B.J.Jones the Story of My Life - Cover

B.J.Jones the Story of My Life

Copyright© 2012 by jballs

Chapter 187

Ex-Military Sex Story: Chapter 187 - This is the story of the life of Roberta Josephine Jones. Shortened to BJ by her friends. From the battle fields Afghanistan with the Marines, loss of her life time friend, with flash backs to her wild youth. After the Marines she must find her way in the world. The early chapters of this story includes incest, les,rape and other adult themes. I plan for this to be a multi-part serial. This is my first attempt at writing. Much of the sex is in the early chapters changing to action and drama.

Caution: This Ex-Military Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Nudism   Slow  

The drive to Chincoteague on Saturday morning took three hours, but we were still there by 10. By noon we were walking on the beach and in the surf in the smallest bikinis we owned. The sand was hot and the water cold. The ocean reached its warmest temperatures of the summer in late July and August. But after an hour on a beach towel the cool water was wonderful.

Not far from us there were several girls playing volleyball. There were not enough of them to keep a good volley going very long. They had set up a nice net and were having fun in the sun.

Lorrie walked over and asked if they would like a few more players for a while. Lorrie and the girls had played on the KCC team. Lorrie withdrew from the sports program after she had been attacked. I had played in school and then I had played some in the sand box to kill time. I knew Jenny had been into softball.

With all of us playing that put six on each side. We had some long volleys and good games. We played for most of the afternoon. As the play improved, the crowd grew.

There is something about hot sweaty girls playing volleyball in the sand that will do that and so will a lot of skin bouncing out of the bikini from time to time. They were as hot as we were. There were several drink breaks. They had plenty of water and beer and were glad to share.

The sun was going down when we said farewell to our new friends. We took hot showers and then chose a restaurant from a list that was on the table. Uncle John had them rated with a little note by each: expensive, very good, try the steak, great wine selection, need reservations, things like that.

We picked a steak and seafood place on the main road by the fire house. The food was great, the people were better. We had a nice time. We drove back to the beach and walked out near the water. The six of us huddled as a group as close to each other as we could and watched the moon shining on the ocean. Soft words, soft kisses, sweet whispers; it was the kind of evening that we as lovers would remember forever.

Sunday brought more of the same; we were up early - one of those habits that is hard to break even on vacation. Breakfast was at one of the restaurants that were open early.

Then we loaded the surf fishing gear in Dad's truck with the beach access tags. I stopped at the bait store for bait and ice. They told me there that they were biting on clams and squid. I bought some of both and a case of beer, ice and salt water fishing license for all of us.

In the parking lot I stopped to let the air down in the tires. That was something that you had to do to drive on the sand. With the tire pressure low, the tires rounded out more and that helped them pull more and kept the truck from getting stuck in the soft sand.

In the parking lot Lorrie, Vicky, Ching Lee and Marcy piled onto the bed of the truck. We had driven both trucks to the parking lot. Dad's truck was only a single bench seat; Jenny was with me in the front.

We drove past a few other early birds that were feeding the fish. At lot of that happens with surf fishing, the fish nibble on the bait, stripping if off the hook and not getting hooked. I drove down to the area that Uncle John's map had marked as nudist and a good fishing area.

I threw the frozen pack of squid onto the tailgate to thaw out while I gave a lesson on surf fishing. After shoving a sand spike into the sand to hold the rod I hooked a heavy sinker so the girls could practice casting with the long surf rods; they were at least 10 feet and longer.

I showed them how to release the lock and let the bail drop spin backwards, letting about four feet of line out. Then I showed them how to place your finger to hold the line in place so you could flip the bail out of the way. Then carefully bring the rod sideways until it was over your shoulder and swing it hard, over and out towards the ocean, letting the line slip from under your finger until the rod is past the 12 o'clock position. A few seconds after the rig hits the water, flip the lever and wind the slack out of the line.

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