Katarsina - The Bodystocking (4) (Patreon)

(Damn! Where Is The Zipper? - Movimento 2)
Part 4

She then sat down on a beach chair and a groan escaped her as she felt the plug dip a little deeper into her. She quickly tried to control herself and disguise her reaction by taking her book out of her purse and pretending to read. At the same time a young man arrived with an impeccable dark tan from the beach and a body sculpted by the gym. He was the manager of the beach chairs and handed her a ticket with her beach chair number and a menu of drinks and cocktails that he had on offer for the tourists.

"I could just fuck him right now," she thought to herself, "Oh, what a bitch I’ve become. . . I would normally just think that he is handsome or that this is so perverted . . . I like this new me. . . and what the hell, half of the beach now thinks I’m a whore and the other half thinks I'm a whore and really crazy and . . . except for my ex. . . nobody knows me, so why shouldn’t I act like a whore?"

She had chosen a beach chair without an umbrella, and it was fully exposed to the sun. As the morning progressed and the temperature continued to rise until it reached 48ºC in the sun, her body began to seriously heat up. She soon forgot that her ex-boyfriend was there, she soon forgot about everything. She stopped listening to the people around her. Only to hear inside her head the friction of her suit, the fabric rubbing not so involuntarily against her shin when she moved. Her heartbeat was pounding louder and louder.

She was mad with excitement and it took enormous willpower not to retreat into her apartment. She was trying to mask her excitement with whatever she was reading. But she was aware that more and more people were looking at her and gossiping about what was obvious. Even if she tried her best to hide it, her body language, signaled to everyone around her, her extreme arousal. The most obvious was when in a reflexive action, she brought her hand to her mouth to silence a moan.

It was then that she discovered that this part of the suit was much softer and more flexible than the rest. "Is it for being able to do a good job with my mouth?" and with that thought a lot of ideas related to having the manager's manly muscle there, began to intoxicate what little control she had left.

But despite the tight suit, her greedy thoughts, the scorching heat, the oily sensation of the aphrodisiac mixed with all her sweat, she was determined that she was not going to fail. Her desire for revenge was stronger, still. She wanted to seduce her boyfriend again, to make the "pantyhose slut" look like the wretch that she was. But around one o'clock in the afternoon she noticed now her mind had begun to waver. The idea of revenge had completely evaporated and she could only imagine a cock where her plug was, another in her pussy and another filling her mouth.

"I need. . . I need. . . hmmmm," came out of her lips as an almost inaudible purr between forced breaths, "people are looking at me, they think I'm a whore and . . . oH! That makes me even more catching."

Her feet contracted from themselves like a ballet dancer, they did not stop caressing. Her thighs instinctively rubbed against each other nonstop. Although she was still holding the book to disguise it, in her right hand, her left hand was rubbing the fabric of the trikini against her totally soaked pussy. Everyone knew what she was doing.

Her suit now felt like it had shrunk two sizes. Her plug seemed to have grown double and sunk deeper inside her rear. The whore could not help moaning with each breeze that brushed her, awakening new and powerful sensations. Even a insect perching on her outfit was enough to make her almost cum. Which happened over and over again, with the creatures attracted by the smell of the oil. She couldn't help it, not anymore, and knowing that everyone was looking at her only made it worse. If that had been still possible at this point, she would have gotten even more horny from that thought.

to be continued...