It all began on a crisp Tuesday afternoon in March. A friend was visiting my house, ostensibly to study, and she and I took a trip down to the beach, to improve our cognitiveprocess.We were resting from our arduous studies, at the top of a lovely little rise covered in cypress, when she picked a blade of grass in her teeth and gave me a rather coquettish look.I leaned over, and attemted to remove it with my teeth, clipping it short in the process. It took but a brief whileuntil the grass was so short that we had to reach within the mouth of the other player to remove it.When I tried to snatch the last tiny bit, my 'study' partnerinstead swallowed it. Full scale war had to be waged at thispoint. I reached for her nose, and held it shut, until she openedher mouth for air. Then I delved inside with my tongue, prayingthat her swallowing was only a facade.I was surprised to find that I was not the only one questing inthis venture, as my tongue was quickly seized and held hostage. Iyelped for mercy, but the fiend would not relinquish my poor tongue.So I tried reverse psychology, and jammed my tongue back down herthroat.She was not at all stunned at my turn in play, and quickly turned this'innocent' war into something more. She reached above her head for a low-hanging cypress branch. She twisted it until it came undone,and proceeded to slash me rather sharply acroos the back with it.This did it. I reached for a fern, and stuffed it firmly down herbra, giving myself a lovely feel of the soft, white flesh that lay there. She gave an exlamation of mock surprise, and found a handysquishy object (banana slug), and gently placed it into my underwear. I cannot say I was pleased with this turn of events,as I imagined a pool of slime collecting where one should not be, so I raised my books and wemt after her. Shrieking in terror, she ran down the path to the beach, where many innocent tourists proceeded to look slightly shocked at the behavior which followed. As she fled, she slowly removed her garments, and, not to be outdone, I followed suit. By the time we reached the extremely cold Pacific, we were utterly nude, and our outer (and under)garments littered the beach. She hit the waves, and I lodged my books on a convient rock. I followed her inot the waves, with great concern for my nether parts, which were growing extremly chilled. We met in mid-surf, and she caught me and gave a rousing kiss. I felt the definent stir of desire somewhere down there in my poor chilled labias. I returned the kiss, as a good Lady should, and promptly, a wave carried us both under. We came up for breath, sputtering with laughter, and she reached a hand under and around, politeley informing me that my nether parts were far from numb to feeling.She certainly knew what she was going for. As the afternoon wore on, our various fluids mingled with the sea which has already seenthe blood of a thousand sailors, the semen of a thousand conquerors, the sorrow of a thousand woefull souls. The funeral taking place somewhere down the Coast had the ashes of the dead mingled with our pleasure. Needless to say, when we emerged, the tourists had gone away, and some of our clothing had dissappeared. We made do with what we had, and returned form our Latin late, flushed, and very ahppy.
