The Lithuanian Witch and Miami Beach
Copyright© 2026 by Asmodeus_de_Valle
Chapter 2: At the Beach
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 2: At the Beach - A Femdom story with a touch of mystery set in Miami
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Drunk/Drugged Reluctant Heterosexual BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Anal Sex Analingus Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Foot Fetish Public Sex
Part 2.1
For the rest of the day, I couldn’t think of anything other than my new acquaintance. What’s more, every time I recalled the girl’s stunning beauty (let’s be honest—her ass), my dick reacted with a surge, so as soon as I got home, my first order of business was to jerk off. Unpredictably, I felt a long-forgotten satisfaction; in fact, it didn’t just feel good—it felt as though I had returned to my teenage years, and this simple act consumed me so completely that I ended up cumming seven times throughout the evening and night.
The next morning, despite having fallen asleep very late, I woke up with an incredible sense of vigor. After getting myself ready and having breakfast, I hurried to the car. I was at the specified address by nine o’clock and, after parking near the building, began waiting for a call from the girl.
Time slowly crept by, but I received no call before ten, nor at 10:00, nor a quarter of an hour later. I was already starting to get nervous, but at 10:25, my phone rang from an unfamiliar number. I picked up, and a familiar voice asked:
“Are you there already?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Wait another quarter of an hour.”
Having said this, Irina hung up immediately, leaving me to wait once again. A new call from the same number came half an hour later—the girl said she would come down to the parking area in a few minutes and asked me to step out of the car so she could spot me. I got out of the cabin, leaned against the hood, and began looking around. The sun was rising higher, heating the asphalt, while the humid air wrapped everything in sticky warmth.
Five minutes later, Irina finally appeared from the entrance. She was wearing tiny denim shorts and a sheer white cover-up through which her new swimsuit showed like a black silhouette underneath. Her long light-blonde hair fell over her shoulders, and her tall, slender figure immediately drew the eyes not only of myself, but of several passersby as well. Noticing me right away, she walked up with confidence.
“Gentlemen usually open the door for a lady,” she remarked as she approached.
“Oh, sorry.”
I quickly opened the door, and Irina proudly took the passenger seat. After walking around the car, I got behind the wheel. The girl, who exuded a sweet scent of perfume, silently put on her headphones, yawned, leaned back into her seat, and closed her eyes. The road to the beach turned out to be surprisingly clear today, so within twenty minutes we were already driving into South Pointe Park.
Irina, who had been sweetly napping the whole way, finally opened her eyes and began taking in the scenery as I took a parking spot near the shore. No sooner had I turned off the engine than she stepped out of the car and, without waiting for me, took a few steps toward the ocean, took a deep breath, and looked around. I grabbed my bag, locked the vehicle, and walked up to her.
“How beautiful,” the blonde said. “Have you been here before?”
“Of course, it’s...”
“Carry my bag, too.”
Cutting me off, Irina shoved her clutch into my hands and headed toward the beach, slipping off her cover-up on the go, which a second later came flying my way. I caught the garment and followed the blonde, admiring her back and hips.
Very soon we stepped onto the beach itself, and pulling a blanket out of my bag, I spread it out on the sand. Irina sat down right away, quickly kicked off her shoes, pulled off her shorts, and lay face down.
“Did you bring sunscreen?”
“Of course.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Rub it on me. I have very sensitive skin—if I get burned, I’ll demand money from you for treatment, and dermatologists in this country, as you well know, are so expensive it makes you want to turn into a snake.”
Hardly believing my luck, I quickly pulled out the lotion, squeezed some onto my palms, and dropped to my knees, reaching out for her soft skin. With my slick hands, I touched her warm collarbones and began spreading the lotion in circular motions, blatantly groping her flesh as I did so. Having lubricated the upper part of her back, I began moving lower, and just as I reached her lower back and was ready to apply lotion to her juicy buttocks, Irina spun around abruptly.
“Rub my stomach, too.”
She said, and after squeezing another portion of the emulsion onto my hands, I began sliding my palms over her flat belly and then over the upper part of her chest.
“Alright then,” the girl said, sitting up after I applied some lotion to her neck. “I’m going for a swim, and you keep an eye on our stuff. Don’t go anywhere; I’ll be right back.”
With a brisk stride, barefoot and swaying her hips, the girl headed across the hot sand toward the sea. I watched her go, seeing her gradually enter the water and drift further away, after which I pulled a book from my bag and settled in to wait for her return.
Minute after minute, I turned the pages until, after about thirty minutes, my Aphrodite finally emerged from the sea. Her swimsuit clung tightly to her body, and as the girl walked back to the blanket, I couldn’t help but notice her hardened nipples showing through the thin fabric.
“Towel!”
I pulled out a small towel and handed it to her, and she began thoroughly wiping herself down.
“Wonderful! The water is just right. Back home in Lithuania, it’s cold and shallow, but here it’s so nice. Why are you dressed?”
“Well, I don’t really like swimming.”
“We’re at the beach...”
“I prefer lying on the sand, reading a book, or listening to music. It relaxes me. Swimming, especially in salt water, just isn’t my thing.”
“At least strip down and get a tan.”
I set the book aside and quickly bared my torso.
“Do you like to read?” I asked, tossing my t-shirt aside.
Instead of answering, Irina swept her eyes over my torso and then asked:
“What about your pants? Why did you wear those instead of shorts anyway?”
“My legs have very sensitive...” I tried to lie.
“If you’re trying to hide your hard-on with jeans, it’s not working, so stop talking nonsense and take them off. Besides, you have sunscreen—rub your legs if they’re really that afraid of the sun.”
The girl spoke completely nonchalantly while I flushed with embarrassment.
“And let’s have a bit of homemade wine.”
Irina reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle along with a pair of plastic cups.
“I’m driving, though...” I objected, pulling off my pants.
“We’ll only drink a little bit; it’ll wear off in a couple of hours.”
The girl poured a bit of deep-red liquid into the cups—pouring twice as much into one as the other—and hiding the bottle, handed the fuller one to me.
“Here’s to a good weekend.”
I took the drink, and a couple of seconds later, after clinking cups, we emptied our improvised glasses. The drink turned out to be quite tasty, with a distinct herbal taste; even though it wasn’t heated, a pleasant warmth spread through my body, and my head started to spin.
“How strong is this stuff?” I asked, placing the cup down on the blanket as I realized I had lost my coordination.
“How should I know? It’s homemade,” Irina said, lying back down on her stomach. Once settled, she unfastened the swimsuit strap on her back and, arching her lower spine slightly, rested her chin on her folded palms. “Do you know how to give a massage?”
“I have some basic skills...”
“Then get to it.”
I quickly knelt right next to the girl and, leaning over, began working her skin. When I moved down to her lower back, she asked me to work on her thighs. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, I immediately began groping her firm, muscular flesh, never taking my eyes off her buttocks, which I occasionally touched “accidentally” with my elbow. With every passing second my arousal grew, and at one point, completely losing self-control, I pulled my hands away from her thighs and slowly reached toward her ass. But a fraction of a second before my palms could touch it, Irina spun around sharply.
“Enough massage. Tell me something about yourself—I don’t even know where you work.”
Part 2.2
We spent the next few hours on the beach, occasionally dipping into the sea, after which we returned to the car and drove to Irina’s workplace—a cafe named Soichyne Hnizdo (Jay’s Nest) on the same Northwest street as her apartment. Walking inside with the girl, I saw a small but cozy establishment.
One of the waitresses—a short brunette girl—greeted Irina with a nod as we walked toward an open table, and the blonde immediately asked her to take our order on the spot.
“A glass of Chardonnay, a Caesar with shrimp, and a Strawberry Kiss for dessert,” the girl said before even sitting down, after which she turned to me, “I can recommend the pork ribs for you.”
“Works for me.”
While waiting for our order, Irina and I continued talking about our lives, and at one point, the conversation shifted to past relationships. In the middle of this chat, the blonde asked a provocative question:
“Can you tell me how many girls you’ve given oral to?”
“I can,” I replied, taken aback. “Not a single one.”
The girl raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“How come?”
“I don’t like cunnilingus.”
“Ah, what a shame. I liked you and was going to offer you a relationship, but if you don’t do oral, that’s completely out of the question.”
“Is it really that crucial?”
“Of course,” Irina cut in sharply. “Sex without it is just incomplete for me. I like getting maximum pleasure, and if a man is squeamish or doesn’t know how to give pleasure with his tongue, I have no business with him.”
“Well, if it’s that important to you, we could try...” I said after hesitating for a second.
“Not could—we must. The life of a man who has never licked a vulva is as useless as the life of an apple tree that withered without bearing a single fruit.”
While I was thinking about how to comment on this rather radical metaphor, our food was served, and we both dug in. The food in this cafe was truly good, and forgetting my manners, I began grabbing the ribs with my hands and thoroughly gnawing at them. By the time I finished and wiped my hands with napkins, Irina had moved on to her dessert.
“Alright then, go to the restroom—take the one on the right. I’ll finish my Strawberry Kiss and join you.”
“You want to do this right now?” I clarified, my tone full of surprise.
“Why wait? Let’s go before someone takes the restroom.”
I didn’t argue any further and headed down the narrow hallway, at the end of which was a washbasin with two doors on either side. Entering the right room, I found myself in a narrow stall just a couple of meters in size and waited for the girl. She arrived only about five minutes later and immediately ordered me to back up against the wall and squat down.
While I followed her instructions, Irina slid the latch shut, after which she cast a commanding glare at me, and a broad smile appeared on her face that briefly triggered a creepy sense of dread in me. Without breaking eye contact, and while keeping her heels on, the girl pulled off her short denim shorts and threw them over my head.
“You haven’t earned the right to see my intimate areas yet.”
“But I’m going to lick you,” I objected and tried to pull the shorts off my face, for which I received a sharp slap across my wrist.
“If you pull them off your eyes, I’ll get very angry, and you won’t see me again. If you do everything right, I might reward you.”
The blonde adjusted the shorts on my head so they fell to the level of my nose, completely blocking my eyes without covering my mouth. Meanwhile, I felt a strange dizziness; my heart was pounding as if I were running a marathon, the skin on my face began to burn, and the dick in my pants twitched with every surge of blood.
While I tried to make sense of this unusual arousal, there was a faint rustle of fabric—the blonde slid off her panties and, stepping one leg over my bent knees, brought her crotch close to my face. I felt the heat emanating from her flush womb, and my nose caught the distinct scent of female juices.
Irina placed her hands on my head and, with a sharp motion, pressed it against the wall. A second later, she pressed her crotch against my face, squirming slightly as she rubbed her vulva against my chin and lips, and said:
“What are you waiting for?”
I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and immediately tasting the flavor of her body, began making simple movements.
“More active,” Irina whispered demandingly, pressing herself harder against me. “Like that, good boy.”
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