Category: Fetish Stories

Days in Rodanthe Pt. 08

by mindingutter©

This chapter resumes soon after the previous ends.

1

The drive up the sunny Outer Banks to retrieve surprise houseguest Constance turned out to be almost two hours, as the hotel at which the Treasury Agents stayed was way up the shore. 'Houseguest' was somewhat of a misnomer. This athletic, petite woman, during what began as a routine surveillance assignment, had become, just as I had, obsessed with the stunning, charming but dominant Miss St. Pierre and the bizarre, vile, secret life she led. Perhaps 'houseguest' should be replaced with "submissive lesbian toilet".

I drove my girlfriend's Tahoe, passing dunes, electric poles, and thousands of beach houses. My lover and Oksana, both clad in flowing sundresses, slept off their hangovers as I sipped on a cup of nasty gas station coffee. It was a good thing they were asleep and unable to notice the boner in my shorts created by thoughts of the two sisters double teaming Constance in lesbian sex. I wasn't exactly sure how my girlfriend would divide her attention between the obsessed blonde and me. No longer adversaries, the two government agents probably had a bond of sorts already, due to their similar careers. I knew the hoped-for three- or foursome may never happen and I may be spending some nights alone. I was a little jealous, but it wasn't like Za'ana was dating another guy.

Once we arrived, we met the off-duty Treasury agent in the hotel lobby. She was gorgeous in full makeup and had changed out of her Kevlar vest into a tight black tank top and bright orange running shorts, platinum hair down but damp, talking to a young, tanning bed-dark, muscular male hotel employee. He was obviously hitting on her, judging by her tense body language, forced smile and haste to walk away, toting a rolling stack of small suitcases behind her. The Persian beauties, refreshed by their naps, were all joyful kisses and hugs as they greeted Constance and I took charge of her luggage, receiving a quick kiss and hug from her and a perturbed glare from the hotel worker. He may have had huge biceps, but I was the one fucking one of the women and had seen the other two naked.

The next hour or so was a visual feast of cleavage, bra straps and beautiful faces as the four of us ate an early dinner at a seafood joint. Za'ana was quite bubbly and affectionate. Sure enough, she and Constance did most of the talking, mainly about their short military careers. Party girl Constance took a naval officer's commission right after 'barely' graduating 'Bastun' College. In contrast, Za'ana, as the only 'rag head' as she was called, at her parochial academy, became quite good at the after school fights she was taunted into. The young brunette became a legend after she continued to sadistically beat and kick a trio of bloodied, fallen tormentors, despite the fact that most of her uniform blouse and camisole had been ripped away, baring her budding upper torso, much to the delight of male onlookers. By grade thirteen, Za'ana's reputation was such that when little sister Oksana began to attend, she was treated with the utmost respect.

My girlfriend's athleticism and the three Western and half-dozen Central Asian languages she spoke led her to 'skip University' and enlist in the Royal Army, achieving the rank of corporal before moving to Manhattan and joining the NYPD. She was soon recruited by the FBI.

The stories and good mood continued as we stopped at a large grocery store on the way back, and Constance and I were assigned the task of shopping for the week. It was weird being alone with Constance on such a domestic errand after we had been enemies of sorts, but she was really nice, and even seemed a little flirtatious at times. Of course I was aware of all the males in the store over twelve and under seventy glancing at her. At least she wasn't a vegetarian like the sisters, so we had our love of red meat in common. While we looked at some steaks, she brought up past events, speaking with the nasal vowels of a New Englander.

"Back when we met, you know I was just doing my job, right?" she asked, looking up at me with her blue eyes as she intentionally paused, bent forward at the waist to put the t-bones into the cart, I could see way down between her tits hanging in her bra, beyond where the slight remnant of her freckled tan changed to creamy pale skin, veins slightly visible beneath the surface. She didn't seem to mind me looking, I guessed since I had already seen them, even though it was against her will at the time.

"Yeah, I guess so." I shrugged.

"I'm really more the 'drive over a sign drunk' girl than the serious bitch I have to be for work."

"Well, you totally fooled me," I replied.

"That I was a bitch?"

"No, that you probably had an entire stop sign and maybe a couple dead bodies dragging under your car."

She laughed and smiled with her sexy, slight overbite. "I was never really gonna put any of the videos or pics out on the web. I can't believe I got so... obsessed." She shook her head. "And, I can't believe I'm here now..." Her mind seemed far away for a few moments, then she sighed, kissed my cheek and said "Thanks for forgiving me, Robbie!" before we resumed shopping.

Pushing the loaded cart around the store, my amazement at her apology was soon overshadowed as I felt my abused colon begin to rumble. Then it lessened and I decided not to use the bathroom there. About a half hour later that bad decision came back to haunt me with a vengeance as the Tahoe rolled south on a desolate part of the island.

Even though I was recovering better than expected from being anally impaled most of the night, I had miscalculated the time it would take for the liquid and food to reach my sore, irritated rectum. Even with my girlfriend's usual excessive speed, we were still at least twenty minutes from the house. I had been fighting it but was losing.

"Zay, sorry but I hafta shit. Now." I was holding my stomach and shifting my hips in the seat, barely able to keep my sore hole clamped shut.

"Don't be such a baby," she said angrily in the Russian-French Canadian accent I love.

"Can you stop? It's gonna be everywhere in about thirty seconds." I was just going to go sqaut behind some of the high bushes on the sound side of the road, on the fringe of the Pamlico Sound.

In the back seat, Oksana reached back to the bags of supplies and thoughtfully dug a roll of toilet paper out of its shrink wrap for me, laughing as she beaned me in the head with it. "Clean it well mon amour, we are far from finished with it!" Her accent was more French than her sister's, but their voices were nearly identical, with the same sexy, slightly low-toned rasp.

Za'ana began a perturbed tirade in Russian, but then smiled at something up ahead. She rapidly braked the SUV, and everyone's torso shifted forward as the tires squealed in protest of her sudden turn toward the ocean.

In moments we were on a vehicle ramp over the adjacent dunes to the beach. Za'ana ignored the warning signs that this part of the National Seashore was temporarily closed to protect wildlife. Over the hump between the sea oats we went, as a flock of gulls scattered in the distance. It was a beautiful setting, and I was ready to enjoy the view as I would likely be putting on a colonic fireworks show for the three women. I was partially right, but surprised at my girlfriend's sudden idea.

"We are not going to waste this!" Za'ana said angrily, turning toward the back seat. "Barbie doll," as she had derogatorily addressed Constance in the past, "remove your clothes and go lie beneath Robert. He is going to empty his bowels on you!" My girl was already getting the shit party started.

"Seriously?" The blonde's blue eyes widened and she grinned, to my surprise. "Okay! Bring it on! Shit all over me!" She began to yank her top off as I was carefully stepping out of the truck, concentrating on not filling my shorts with the toxic liquid payload. I knew any affection the kinky blonde suddenly had for me would be gone very soon.

A few moments later, I was at the base of a dune, naked, bent over and straddling a nude, trash-talking Constance as my girlfriend and her sister stepped through the soft sand to watch the show. The gymnast-bodied blonde's St. Marten tan lines had almost completely faded, the small winged heart tattoo on her hip was visible and her pussy had been shaved or waxed smooth. Her pale pink areolas had begun to tighten, I assume since she was again performing for her female crush.

"Come on, Voss! You got nothin'!" she taunted as she laid face up on the sand. "I'm not afraid of your whimpy Penn State shit!"

Za'ana, holding her dark hair out of her face in the wind and enjoying her new status with two submissive subjects at her command, interrupted. "I will tell you when! Curl her up and make your nasty bowels right onto her poo-see!"

I reached for the blonde's ankles but her stubby feet were instantly in the air. I was essentially squatting on her pelvis, facing away. Oksana protested in French to her sister from her safe spot upwind, I think saying she was 'going to kiss that later', referring to the Treasury agent's pussy, an image that had already crossed my mind.

"Cmon, open up and show me!" Constance said from beneath. She smacked my ass playfully.

"Arms above your head, Barbie doll!" my girlfriend commanded to prevent any shielding her victim might attempt. "Don't fucking move them!"

"Okay you cock sucking bastard, shit on the little whore!" Za'ana yelled over the noise of the wind and idling SUV. Her large, deep set and stunning brown eyes were sparkling in the sun as she reveled in her power over both of us. "Don't move until I tell you!"

I grunted with both relief and empathy for the girl beneath me as my colon loudly exploded with what felt like a gallon of gurgling, stinking, yellowish liquid shit. I instantly knew the color because some blasted out the front, splattering my inner thighs. Even with the breeze, it was putrid and I knew its stink was ten times worse to those who didn't produce it. This assumption was instantly confirmed as my hole involuntarily flexed and I heard the sisters exclaim their disgust and Constance's legs jolt as she began to violently puke her guts out down below. So much for her trash talking. This reopening of my sore rectum burned, but still I didn't move, following my twisted girlfriend's instructions. My nuts were dredging themselves in the diarrhea as poor Constance convulsed beneath me and I felt the thicker blobs mashed between our bodies. It was weird thinking I had just shit all over the Federal Agent who nearly arrested me earlier.

After being instructed to bend forward and display my dripping, gaping hole to everyone, I was then commanded to turn around, kneel and "piss on her cunt". After splashing onto her labia, the urine ran into her navel or down her ass crack and into the sand. I could feel my mush sliding down my thighs and dripping off my balls. The unfortunate, coughing blonde looked miserable, thickly splattered up to her protruding nipples with nasty, yellowish-brown lumps of shit. Puddles had formed in the sand on either side of her body where the dozens of trails of tinted liquid had drained off her tight torso, leaving fecal particulates in their wake. My runny shit was so nasty I couldn't even smell my victim's chunky pink puke, sliding back down her widened cleavage and dripping off her lips and jaw to form a thick, partially digested, steamed-shrimp-and-cocktail-sauce ring around her neck like a winter scarf. I assumed my work was finished, but as usual I was wrong.

"Is that all you got?" Constance asked loudly over the wind, her voice rough from the acidic vomit. She cleared her throat and spit out a blob of phlegm. "C'mon! More! Who's next?"

"All in good time, you nasty little whore!" Za'ana responded, pleased with the shit-covered former cheerleader's enthusiasm.

A big smile formed on my girlfriend's face. "Smear it, Robert, you disgusting bastard! All over her!" Za'ana yelled with twisted glee, then mumbled something in Russian.

I reached down and touched Constance's bare skin for the first time, rubbing the dark mustard-colored mush around the now coughing blonde's heaving stomach, careful not to go too high or too low. She obediently kept her feet in the air, as uncomfortable as she may have been.

"I said all over, Robert!" my girlfriend shouted. "Press it into her poo-see and cover her perky breasts!"

Was my girlfriend really telling me to touch another woman's genitals and tits? I recalled Constance's prior threat to break my arm for just looking at her clothed breast before, and hoped her new, conciliatory mood was genuine as I palmed her thickly coated pussy. I could feel my cock grow involuntarily as my hands cupped the blonde's nice, spherical, firm tits, then gathered puke off her neck to add to the disgusting mixture that had been carefully arranged meals on restaurant plates just a few hours before.

Za'ana stepped toward us and kicked sand onto her victim's chest, creating a foul body scrub of sorts as I continued to distribute the combined sludge, now a brown color, from Constance's armpits to her knees.

The blonde cried out as I stretched and twisted her hard nipples with the abrasive sand mixture for several seconds at Za'ana's behest. I had a full boner by now.

"Rub your hard dick on her, Robert!" came the shocking instruction from my girlfriend. "Lie on the little whore like you are going to fuck her! Dry hump her! That's it!"

As I rocked back and forth, scraping my dick on the sandy mush coating miserable Constance's pubic mound, Za'ana stepped over, lifted her skirt above us and pissed on our heads, complaining about the smell. Most of the warm liquid drained off my collar bones, and as it cooled it felt a little refreshing. Next I was required to turn my head away to the side as Oksana, who had been silently watching the shrimp-diarrhea-and-vomit show, approached and raised her dress as well, pink panties wrapped around her wrist.

"You like?" the redhead asked Constance, apparently about this first close look at her exposed vulva, before a stream of urine splashed directly into Constance's open mouth, or so it sounded.

Za'ana, suddenly impatient, interrupted any further discussion of the aesthetics of Oksana's pussy. "Okay, enough sorority hazing! Go wash yourselves in the water! Hurry, we don't have all day."

It was a warm afternoon, and a dip in the ocean sounded great. I slowly arose and helped my waste-covered victim to her feet. It was about fifty yards to the water. Constance, still spitting out stringy piss and vomit phlegm, looked like a defeated mud wrestler, body coated with filth and hair caked and matted.

Suddenly Oksana let out a big squeal and began to lift her dress over her head. Za'ana scolded her, saying the swim was just supposed to be the two of us coated in feces, but soon I sensed someone running past us, and a beautiful, naked, tattooed Oksana was sprinting toward the crashing waves, tits and ass bouncing with a mesmerizing chaos.

I heard my girlfriend curse with resignation in French, shut the door and start her truck. In moments the Tahoe had passed us as well, and Za'ana parked on the hard sand and turned on the SUV's red and blue emergency flashers. It was her personal car, but she had them installed for official emergencies, I was told after the first time she used them to coax a slow driver out of the left lane on the turnpike. This afternoon's use of the pulsing lights was apparently to make the vehicle's presence on the edge of the closed beach appear legitimate to anyone in the distance, and not three sex-crazed people skinny dipping.

After dunking myself, I paused in waist-deep water and turned back to see the count was going to be four after all as watched my girlfriend strip. She was already out of her dress, looking awesome in a lacy champagne colored bra and panty, contrasting with her black thigh holster and gun which she removed and slid under the seat. Once naked, to my surprise she squealed with delight also as she jogged toward the crashing surf, her beautiful tits flailing. She lost her balance as she reached me, pulling us both down into a retreating foamy wave. We emerged, laughing incessantly.

Not laughing was Constance, still recovering from the shock of the sudden fecal abuse, I think, and was standing in front of Oksana, who was checking the back of the blonde's hair for left over puke as the waves alternately masked and unmasked their upper bodies.

Za'ana winked at me, then waded over and apparently praised her new girlfriend, which brought a wide smile to the blonde's face. She began to kiss her aggressively and deeply, puke mouth and all. As I watched their tits caress each other and their stiffened nipples and tongues randomly rove around, and curvy Oksana jumping waves in the background, all three women glistening in the sun, my boner solidified again, having lessened from the cold ocean water. We spent the next several minutes splashing, dunking, pushing, and challenging incoming waves to topple us. A short game of chicken began, with my lover on my shoulders versus Constance on Oksana's. I had played a few times before with a bikini clad girl perched on me, but never with three naked women.

It was awesome having my girlfriend's thighs surrounding my head and my focus kept shifting from Oksana'a rock-hard, pierced nipples to Constance's pink protruding pair and their concentric surrounding bumps. To ensure a win, the redhead rushed toward us as best one can in chest deep water, and launched the blonde forward. The momentum and rearward falling woman on my shoulders forced me underwater, but not before I had a nice jab in the chest from one of Oksana's nipples, and to my surprise she grabbed my protruding dick for a moment, giggling, before she too was submerged, and I took an accidental knee in the temple from Constance. All too soon the swim was over, as there were pints of ice cream in the back of the SUV that had probably melted already.

As we walked out of the crashing surf, the cooling effect on my hard and westward pointing dick began, but not before Oksana remarked that she thought she was touched by an eel in the ocean. My girlfriend looked at her, then realized she was referring to my cock, and rolled her eyes,.

"That eel better swim away!" Za'ana said, muttered something in French, but then smiled at me. Between this naked dip and almost being arrested, I knew I would never, ever forget this day.

We stood by the truck and quickly shared a towel Constance, had in her luggage, and were soon sliding on clothes over our damp bodies. To my hard dick's delight all three stringy-haired women decided to forgo their bras and panties, presumably since we would be back at the house soon. After a pause to allow Constance to puke onto the sand again, we drove off the beach.

Back in high school physics, there was a chapter on wave motion and oscillation. I never expected to be reminded of it when thinking about the three gorgeous pairs of breasts I had just been treated to an extended simultaneous view of.

Constance's were the most firm, and retained most of their spherical shape when unsupported. They moved the least of the group, only when a definite change in direction occurred, and then only with a few recoils absorbing the force.

Oksana's, the largest, were quite the opposite, apparently weightier than average, although not having officially felt them with my hands, I could only guess. They narrowed and descended several inches when freed from a bra and assumed their natural 'banana' shape. Any movement at all, even a gentle reach or slow walk, caused swaying, pendulum-like motion, collisions, and subsequent aftershocks, all quite enjoyable, as was the elongated teardrop they formed when the redhead leaned forward.

Category: Fetish Stories