1. West Coast Games - Part One: The Beach


    Date: 8/11/2015, Categories: Fiction, Author: LushStories, Rating: 92.1, Source: sexstories.com

    on the floor into the back of my closet. Then I quickly changed the sheets, put on my best tunes and began fixing martinis. Admittedly, I was still worried about impressing her, but none of it seemed to matter to Roxy. She walked in, casually dropped an overnight bag on the floor and downed the drink in minutes. She hooked her fingers into the front waistband of my shorts and leaned into me, those intense green eyes of hers fixed on my helpless baby blues. “Let’s fuck,” she’d whispered. Sex with Roxy always overwhelmed in the best way possible. From day one, we were like two animals locked together, jostling for sexual supremacy until there were claw marks breaking the skin on my back and my mouth was full of her juices. They were those deliciously hazy first moments heralding an exciting new relationship. No drug can quite compare, can it? She was exactly what I needed. A dream girl that was just as insatiable in real life as she’d been in my fantasies. Roxy didn’t go home that night, or even the night after that. I called in sick at work and shuffled projects off on coworkers. It was days before we even came up for air. We lay in that crumpled pile of sheets getting stoned, talking about shit we thought was brilliant and bonding. There’s nothing like getting high with someone, night after night, to lull you into a whole different kind of reality. There was no intelligent thinking involved when I officially moved her in either. I was running on flawed instincts. Eventually ...
    we established our new kind of normal and set the pace for what life would look like together. I worked during the days and she spent her time naked in the kitchen, cooking my favorite meals. Steak and pussy. Fuck, how could any mortal man not love her? Every night I rediscovered those supple limbs and spill of blonde hair, transfixed by the way her ass moved as she ambled across my Spanish tiled floor, a joint dangling from her pretty lips. Yeah, Roxy was foxy, as Zane and Noah would eventually admit when we hung out together at the beach. It was late August by then, and she had long since ditched the wetsuit in favor of scandalously tiny bikinis that somehow managed to stay on despite her predilection to searching out the biggest waves to ride. She and I were still deep in our cohabitation bliss and I hadn’t seen any chips or dents in the fantasy just yet. She was still dangerously close to perfect for me. Occasionally I’d feel a bit of backlash from the guys about the rededication of my time and focus. “I can’t believe you’re not sick of her yet,” Noah said. “This has to be some kind of new record for you. She must be something special.” The three of us were hanging in place on our borrowed piece of the ocean, waiting for our turn at the next set of waves. “Special, indeed,” Zane chimed in. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a crochet bikini function as serious surfing gear. Not a rash guard in sight. Damn.” “The sex is off the hook,” I admitted. “Like scalding, really.” ...
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