MicroProse: No More Bikinis (Patreon)

Sandra felt it flush and pucker as she glanced at the pair of well-swallowed thongs that walked past her. She lowered her sunglasses to get a better look at the two peach asses continuing down the beach. The knots of their bikinis swung between shoulder blades, the side of the two women's ample bouncing busts still barely visible to Sandra from her recliner chair. She smiled, reveling in the wet warmth welling up between her thighs and atop her belly. Her toes burrowed into the sand and curled.

A hand slowly slid down Sandra's one-piece swimsuit, grazing her more average breasts, sliding over ribs, and finally settling over the slight swell of her belly. A duel ridge gently pushed up against the stretched elastane. The average beach-goer would likely pay no mind to the relief Sandra was touching.

And it was certainly relief - of a kind - she was after.

As her fingers pressed down and glided up and back along the gentle valley she recalled - with more nostalgia than she would have ever expected - how it had felt when the genie fucked up her wish and turned her belly button into a second pussy. The swell of arousal in such an impossible spot, the hungry need that accompanied its yawning virginal gap, and the blissful pop that punctuated the arrival of her new clit. She'd cursed it at the time, paced in panic, her racing mind complaining, of all things, about how she'd no longer be able to wear any bikinis.

But Sandra had found the silver lining since then. One-piece bathing suits hid her extra intimate bit very well - so well, she had discovered, that she could caress it...play with it...bring it to climax right there on the beach without anyone knowing what she was doing. And, as the muscles of her core began to twitch and Sandra struggled to keep her breathing steady, she could feel another crescendo building. She clamped her mouth shut and rolled back her eyes behind the sunglasses as a glisten of orgasmic sweat rose up across her skin.

Sandra's hand fell limp to the sand as she enjoyed her illicit afterglow. She could feel her dampness wicking into the one-piece and she covered herself with the towel. In a few minutes she'd wade back into the salty surf and no one would be any the wiser of her new favorite beach activity.

Maybe she owed that genie an apology.