"Walking the beach had to be one of life's greatest pleasures," she thought to herself, looking around, taking in the piles of shells that presented themselves, glancing at them and slowly moving on, saving few but enjoying them, eyeing them all.
Jennie Wainright was on vacation. And it wasn't only a vacation but 'the vacation' that she'd been promising herself for such a long time. It was time to let down, to relax, to set other concerns back off of the front burner of her mind. It was, indeed, time for her, for Jennie.
She finally had tenure, recently granted and was now an associate professor, and this much awaited and much needed vacation to the Bahamas was her reward for herself for all of it. She was going to enjoy every minute of it.
Jennie had been, in fact, an athlete in college. She got her height from her dad; leaving her a full six feet tall. She carried her 135 lbs very, very well. From her mom she inherited her statuesqueness, with 38c breasts that were indeed imposing.
For her dream vacation in the Bahamas, she bought three new bathing suits. She didn't like bikinis and thought that the one piece variety showed off her height and her body to better advantage. Today's suit was a royal blue one piece version; it was made of a kind of knit fabric. It was cut high on the thighs, giving the impression that Jennie's nicely plump ass would fall out of the suit at any point. Added to this the cleavage that it showed made it a certified man trap. Jennie was strutting a bit down the beach, as she thought of it.
Walking the beach was her treat but swimming in the lovely blue waters was a clear and close second. She simply couldn't remember when she'd enjoyed herself so much.
So, she'd made this promise that once the tenure came through, it would be time for this vacation, and here she was: white sand, beautiful blue water, a new bathing suit and feeling just fine.
Jennie considered herself a liberated woman. She'd been engaged once in college and thanked her lucky stars that it had never gone beyond that point. She'd eventually found Ray to be unreasonable and childish, and had broken it off.
She allowed herself to take, at times, as she was 'finding herself, sexual pleasure from both men and women. (Always drawing the line at college students; she just felt that such liaisons represented too much trouble.)
As she watched the luscious scenery, the sand, shells and lovely blue of the Caribbean, she let her mind drift back to one of her fondest early memories at the school; it was, in fact, about the Dean's wife, Marge:
It had been at a party at the Dean's house for new members of the faculty, and department heads. Jennie had already been there over a year but was invited to the party. In the course of mixing and talking to people, at one point Jennie found herself back by a refreshment table with a door behind her. She didn't hear the door open and only knew someone was behind her, when she heard the voice by her ear say:
"Stuffy party at the Dean's place."
"Yes, but necessary," Jennie answered and let out a little 'eek', when she saw that it was the Dean's wife talking to her.
"Sorry," Jennie said but her words died in her throat, when she felt Marge's hand rubbing over the surface of her ass cheeks.
Jennie's head shot around and stared at the lovely older woman; Marge was in fact 51 and still ravishing.
Jennie gained her composure and said softly: "Give you an hour to remove your hand."
Marge laughed a tinkling laugh and said: "Change the time and circumstances and I'll take the hour."
The scene never left her mind at all, not that night, not through a night, when she tossed and turned and played with herself to orgasm twice. It stayed there and kind of grinned at her incessantly.
That particular 'hour' happened the very next day. Jennie was religious in her exercising, and had been ever since she could remember. She continued to run and to do weight exercises to keep herself fit.
She was on the last lap of that afternoon's run, coming down the street to her house, when she saw that someone was sitting on her porch. As she got closer she realized that it was in fact Marge, the Dean's wife. Jennie stopped her run and was into her decompression, when Marge came off of the porch to greet her.
"You look spectacular, girl friend," Marge said.
"Sweaty!" Jennie answered, a bit out of breath.
"I can't tell you how much I like sweaty," Marge continued. "Now why don't we go inside before I give you a bad reputation with your neighbors, by beginning to lick some of the sweat off of you right here and now."
"Oh, that sounds lovely," Jennie said but began to move toward the house immediately.
They were hardly inside the door, when Marge grabbed hold of Jennie and kissed her. Jennie simply allowed it all to happen. She let her lips open against Marge's slightly and received immediately the thrill of Marge's tongue's invasion of her mouth.
"Mmmmm," Jennie hummed in her throat, as Marge's hands now began their exploration. She felt the hands run down her back and up under her tee shirt.
"Lovely and wet," Marge said into Jennie's ear, as the hands continued their work, one of them now moving around the front to encounter one of Jennie's large tits and its already hardened nipple.
The other hand was busy pushing its way down the back of Jennie's tight, lycra running pants to slide across Jennie's well rounded, and muscular ass cheeks.
"Okay, enough fooling," Marge said, "Strip, girl! Right now!"
"You're so masterful, when you make demands!" Jennie said, slipping the tee shirt up to take it off.
"I think that it's what you like, what Jennie likes," Marge said, "Masterful! Admit it!"
"Yes, Ma'am," Jennie said through the fabric of the tee shirt, now raised over her head.
Marge trapped Jennie then in the upraised tee shirt, holding her by the wrists and beginning the process of nipping and biting at one of Jennie's nipples. She was rewarded for her effort by soft cries from Jennie, especially when Marge took a nipple between her lips and, after sucking it a bit, began to bite it hard.
"Awwwwww!" Jennie moaned, her face still buried in the upraised tee shirt, as Marge unhooked her bra and, forcing the bra upward, set Jennie's tits free altogether.
"Being ravished!" Jennie sighed.
"Just what you need!' Marge said.
"Yes, what I need," Jennie agreed.
"And I'm just the one to do it! I'm going to take you on, turn you out." Marge said next, biting the other nipple and causing Jennie to simply shake.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Jennie wailed. "Yessssss! Where do I sign!"
"Slut!" Marge whispered, biting the nipple again, and getting an almost liquid response from Jennie.
"Yesssss, Ma'am!" Jennie admitted.
Marge then whipped the tee shirt farther up and off of Jennie totally. Her mouth went back, at once, to Jennie's nipples and did some more biting. She had Jennie fairly dancing in place soon.
"Arms up in the air," Marge said hoarsely.
Jennie complied and let out another sigh as Marge now began to lick at Jennie's sweaty, wet armpits.
"Lovely, tasty bitch!" the Dean's Wife intoned, as she licked at Jennie's armpits.
In a quick and almost rough movement, Marge had Jennie's running pants and panties down and off, leaving her naked. She pushed the larger woman against the wall and said:
"Now stay there."
Jennie didn't move; she simply said a soft: "Yes, ma'am," and remained leaning against the wall with her arms in the air, watching closely as Marge discarded her own clothing.
When Marge was naked as Jennie, she said: "Now let's do this! Turn around. I want to mark you. I want you to see my teeth marks tomorrow in the mirror."
Jennie did as she was told and 'yipped' into the wall when Marge, as good as her word, did indeed bite Jennie's ass cheeks, leaving teeth marks on each cheek.
Marge straightened up then and kissed Jennie, whispering after the kiss:
"A vibrator, get it!"
Jennie just nodded and went to fetch her vibrator from the bedroom...
It was at this point, a favorite in the rehearsal of that memory, that Jennie emerged from her reverie. She realized that her bathing suite was wet from the mental recital of the scene with Marge, the Dean's wife.
She was at the end, it seemed, of the barrier island. She'd come to a pass, and the stretch of blue water in front of her was about a quarter mile across. That in itself would not be a problem for her but she had her bag with her towel, sun shade and camera. She sighed and realized that she would have to go back.
It was then that she caught out of the corner of her eye some movement off to the left. She turned and saw two young native men, glistening black skin in the sun, coming through the pass on what looked like very very thin canoes of some kind. They were in fact straddling the canoes and paddling with their legs trailing in the water. One, she noticed was wearing what they were calling 'board shorts', long legs to the knees and the other had on a yellow speedo.
Both young men flashed huge, white toothy grins at Jennie, and she, spurred on by the scene and the beach and the water, waved to them.
Just as she was about to turn back up the beach, she heard one of them call out to her:
"Pretty lady want to go across?"
The lilt of his voice was in itself a turn on for Jennie, and she quickly thought to herself that she'd let them take her across.
"Yes," she said, "May I hitch a ride?"
"Pretty lady gonna go right across with us!" one of them said then.
.... There is more of this story ...