. you know.”“I know. I sometimes dream about that, too. But that’s not what I mean. I can’t talk about my dreams. Not that I don’t want to, ...but there aren’t words. I stumble all over and get frustrated. I ... I ... can’t...” Damnit! My throat was closing up on me and words were like balloons that were all let go at the same time and I was running back and forth trying to catch one.“Shh. Arthur, look at me.” I focused on her eyes. They were a pretty blue. I could make that color in paint. Maybe. A souvenir, so to speak. You can guess a story, but you still don’t know much.If I find a condom, I pick it up with a stick, wrap it in a piece of kelp, toss it in my bucket and dump it in a trashcan. If you don’t, a gull may swallow it and die.Twice I’ve found panties. I leave them on the sand since they’re just cotton.Maybe the ocean makes tourists do things they wouldn’t do in Portland. The motels have hotel-quality beds, so it’s not like they have to do it on the beach, but maybe they like. He began to slide out of her, and that simple motion set her off. ‘Ohhhhfuck!’ she cried, cumming. Wave upon wave of orgasm overtook her, and she was gasping for breath, wincing. Jeff began to fuck her up the ass as she came, and he didn’t hold back. ‘Slap slap slap slap’ his groin slapped hard against her ass, and he watched her cheeks ripple with each sudden impact. His cock jackhammered in and out of her tight little ass as she came and came and came. Suddenly, she felt him slide out of her. *****I had been up for over an hour when Cristopher walked into the kitchen.He was still wearing his nightie, his hair was tousled and he wasrubbing sleep from his eyes. My cock began to stir as I gazed lovinglyat his innocent appearance. He seemed unconcerned with the way he lookedas he padded on bare feet to the table and sat. "Good morning,Chrissie," I said, putting aside the newspaper I'd been reading. "Do youwant some breakfast?" Just some orange juice and cereal will be fine."We chatted.