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Indian brother-sister sex story.
Dave took quick, sure steps, holding his arms out occasionally to balance himself as he descended. His buttocks were large and firm and they worked under his shorts as he walked. Marion, I could see, was studying them.
I studied her: tall, square shouldered, straight backed, dark hair, unfashionably long, which she had woven into a single plait which hung down her back and swayed from side to side as she walked. Narrow waist, which, with her full, shapely buttocks, formed an inverted heart. Long, brown, smooth legs.
Ten minutes more and I still could not hear the roar of the ocean, but below us, hidden by the bush, I heard a creek running. Marion slowed, and I caught up with her. She stopped, and waited till Paul was out of earshot, then she leaned back and whispered in my ear, "How much further, do you think?"
Now I was sure of it. The sound of the trickling water had created an urgency. I searched for a way to dissuade her from stopping, disappearing into the bushes to relieve herself. "It can't be far now," I said. I pressed against her. "We'd better keep moving. There are leeches around this part of the coast." She screwed up her face in disgust. Any thought she had of stopping had vanished. She squeezed her thighs together for an instant, then quickly walked on.
And after ten more minutes we emerged abruptly from the bush onto the shore. The beach was a crescent of gold a kilometer long, bounded at both ends by ragged cliffs. against whose bases the sea pounded. No other form of life than us, and the gulls wheeling around overhead.
Paul walked through the soft sand, to where a fringe of sea-weed marked the high tide mark. He threw down his pack and pulled off his singlet. Marion propped herself on first one leg, then the other, pulling off her sandals.
She should have done the safe thing then- run to the water's edge, quickly pulled off her shirt and shorts, and dived in, allowing the shock of the cold water to relax her bladder, releasing herself into the cool, enveloping sea, where no-one could see. But she didn't do that. She was curious. She was attracted by his masculinity. There was an animal quality to it - the short, muscular body, the coarse hair which covered it. Her curiosity overcame her need.
She couldn't be overt about it. He was standing gazing out over the sea, running his hands over his scalp. She stopped level with him, but about four yards to the right, not too close but close enough. I knew what she was thinking. She was wondering whether, like her, he was wearing his swimmers under his shorts, or whether he would need to change into them. She was wondering whether she was going to catch a glimpse of his cock.
I watched from behind. My heart began to beat faster. I knew what she was going to see, and I could imagine what the effect on her would be.
Paul looped his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts. She was undoing her shirt, and as she pulled the sleeve down her left arm, she stole a glimpse sideways. The white band of his jockey shorts showed. He was going to have to change. I knew what she was thinking. She wondered whether it was going to be big, whether it would dangle down lewdly when he pulled down his underpants, or whether it would be small, nestled up in the hair of his belly, like a bird peeking out of its nest. I could see all this going through her mind.
She unbuttoned her denim shorts and allowed them to drop to the sand. He was standing in his underpants now. He pulled them down, stepped out of them, and straightened. Marion chose this moment to bend forward and pick her shorts up from the sand. Bent at that angle, she would only have to turn her head slightly to get a good look at him. I watched her closely. She had her feet slightly apart and she bent from the waist. Her glorious buttocks parted and her labia pressed against the fabric of her swimsuit, like the halves of a peach. She was supple and she bent until her hands almost touched the ground. She tilted her head to steal a sly look at Paul, and then she saw it.
I saw her body s