The Unexpected Guest

Anybody who lives in this area knows some surfers. Surfing is what they do here, our beach has great waves and everybody who's old enough to walk surfs. I only moved here a few years ago and did not grow up surfing, but I have borrowed friends' surfboards and tried it a few times. If I use a big long board, I discovered, I can actually stand up on it. I can also stay in the shallow water, on little waves. That was enough to satisfy my curiosity about the topic. I can see why they love it, but I have been more obsessed with fly-fishing, and not surfing.

My buddy Marty was also fairly new to the area, but he had recently been bitten by the surf bug. He had an old board that somebody had given him, and had gotten pretty good with it, and now he was thinking about getting a nicer one. There are a lot of aspects to consider, from length to fins to coolness and color, and he was going around talking to everybody about it.

Of course I didn't have any opinion to offer, but when he came to visit me I sat and listened to him review all the points, all the questions he had and the answers he had come up with so far. There isn't much in the way of furniture in my little room, so I sat on the corner of the bed and let him have the chair. He had a little stack of magazines in his lap and was flipping through them, showing me the different designs. Part of it was that he was still new to it. The other part was that I was not really any help at all, except to listen.

There was suddenly a tapping at the door and it flew open before I could say anything, and my little friend Anna blew in like a blast of wind, looking yummy. Anna made a habit of appearing at random moments; she once told me that if I was with somebody else she would just pretend to be selling Avon products. I don't even know if that is still a thing, but "Avon calling" would explain her showing up at my door. If I was not with somebody then she would just tear off her clothes and jump into bed with me. It was a good plan and had worked so far. Well, she had not had to use the Avon thing.

Anna always wore the same bright red lipstick and honestly it looked fucking hot on her. She was wearing her usual peasant blouse and skirt, and I knew there was nothing under them. Her long hair was a kind of tangled waterfall down her back, across her shoulders, a sort of signature that warned the world they'd better hold onto their horses, because shit could get crazy when she was around.

"Yo, Anna," I said as the screen door slammed behind her. "Good to see you. This is my friend Marty, I don't know if you two have met."

"I don't think so," Marty said. "Nice to meet you."

"I think I would have remembered if I'd met this guy," Anna said. "Well, any friend of Doc's is fair game, I always say. I'm Anna." I don't know how she does this, but she was flirting with Marty a little bit already.

"Marty is thinking about getting a surfboard," I said. "We're just looking at them."

Marty held up a magazine that was in his lap, and Anna stepped over next to the chair for a better look. Well, that is, to give Marty a better look. I know she knows exactly what she is doing. She bent over to look at a picture in the magazine, with her tits almost hitting him in the side of the face. Also, in plan view at that angle.

"Oh, that's a pretty one," she said, pointing to one with a nice paint job. "Get that one." Her arm brushed his as she pointed. He looked alarmed.

"Well, I don't know if I should decide based on the way it's painted, do you?"

"Huh, seems like guys do that all the time, at least with girls," Anna joked. "So what are you looking for?"

"I think I want one maybe a little longer, five feet maybe, about that. Two fins. I'm just learning."

"I could teach you," she said.

"Do you surf?" I asked her.

"No," Anna said. "I don't know anything about that. Is that what we were talking about?"

I have seen Anna at work before. She identifies her target, takes aim, and never misses. I have seen her poor husband stand there patiently while she gets some guy nearly to the point of blasting a frantic load into his jeans, then she moves on. Or if the husband is not there, she doesn't move on. I don't know what happens after that, but I figure somebody gets lucky sometimes. I am friends with her husband, too. We just don't talk about it. Fairly awkward, but somehow they have figured out how to make their marriage work.

"We were talking about buying a surfboard," Marty explained patiently. I could tell he was already getting a little baffled by Whirlwind Anna. Marty looks like he'd be a ladykiller but I don't think he has much experience. He is a guy who will have a girlfriend, and things will be good, and then something happens. My theory is that he just doesn't know what to do, and he probably pisses them off, and they leave after a few months. Then he lives without them, not really looking for a girlfriend but women do find him attractive, and after a while he has a new girlfriend, rinse, repeat.

He is, in other words, not a guy who chases women, and mostly steers clear of the wild ones. And being here at the beach, we get a lot of those, girls from the valley who come over for a crazy time and then leave again. Anyway, ordinary oversexed chicks could not have educated him about how to deal with Anna.

She came back and plopped down on the bed next to me. Of course nobody on the beach knows about her and me, so we are cool around people. She sat on the bed and where normally I would tip her back and fuck her, we sat watching Marty looking at pictures of surfboards.

"Where do you know Marty from?" she asked me.

"Shit, I don't know," I said. "I guess we met through Theresa, didn't we?" Marty looked up and nodded at mention of her name. "Turned out we were both fucking her and didn't know it, until we both showed up at her apartment at the same time. I thought we were going to have a fistfight, didn't you, Marty?"

"Yeah," he said. "I didn't know. I thought she was my girlfriend, and then you showed up."

"And I thought she was my girlfriend," I said. "So me and Marty ended up getting shitfaced at Ray 'n Red's, and we've been friends ever since."

"Sweet story," Anna said. "What happened to Theresa?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe she went away. I haven't seen her in a few years."

"Me either," Marty said without looking up.

"Huh well I know what I woulda done if both of you had shown up," Anna laughed.

Marty stopped reading. "What would you have done?"

"Jeez, do I have to spell it out?" Anna said, looking like maybe she had gotten out over her skis a little bit.

"Well she just started crying," Marty said. "I was pissed, Doc was pissed, and she was fuckin' crying."

"Stupid girl," Anna said.

"Yeah, I guess so," Marty said.

"Yeah, chance of a lifetime, it sounds like. So do you have a girlfriend now?" Anna asked him.

"Naw, it's easier this way."

"So what do you do when you want to get laid?" she asked him.

Marty looked at me. "Is she always like this?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I said. "She says what she's thinking."

He looked back at her. She was smiling, those big red lips flashing like neon. "If I want to get laid I jerk off instead," Marty said.

"Excellent answer," Anna said. "See Doc, this guy tells the truth, at least. That's a good sign."

"A good sign of what?" Marty asked.

"Well I like a guy who gets right to the point and doesn't fuck around," she said. "So how long has it been since you got laid?"

"Jeez," Marty said, looking helplessly toward me. I would guess I was smirking.

"I think she likes you," I said.

"I haven't gotten laid in a long time," Anna said, knowing she could count on me to back her up in this lie.

"How long?" Marty stepped into the trap.

"Ages," she said. "You got any ideas?"

Marty set down his magazine. "You are something else," he said.

"Let me look at pictures with you," Anna said, she stood up from the bed, took two steps, grabbed the magazines, and placed herself across Marty's lap. She snaked her arm around his shoulder, her crazy hair tickling his face. "There, that's better." Her lips were inches from his ear, that scarlet lipstick barely contrasting with the flush of his face. He looked at me as if begging for help. Her fingers curled around and stroked his throat lightly. "Okay, surfboards." She handed the stack of printed materials back to him.

He took the magazines and opened the top one.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Anna asked.

He closed the magazine again. "Yes," he said. "That's what makes this so difficult. It's hard to say no to you."

"Oh, good, you had me worried for a minute." She gave him a squeeze, nearly suffocating him with her breasts. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Is my blouse in the way?" She pulled it over her head, tossed it on the bed beside me, and gave him another squeeze, topless, nearly ramming a nipple into his mouth. "There ya go," she said, with stifled laughter in her voice. "That's better, isn't it?" His face was covered with tits. "Okay, surfboards."

He worked his face out of her cleavage, giving one tit a little kiss as it swung away. "Actually," he said, "This is kind of nice."

"Excellent," Anna said, her brilliant red lips separating into a radiant smile, which she shined on me. "Isn't he sweet, Doc?"

I knew she did not expect an answer to that one.

Marty looked down at the magazine in his hand. Anna said, "Marty, could you do me a favor? Could you put your fingers right here?" And in a heartbeat she had pulled her skirt up to her waist, grabbed his hand, and put it on her pussy. "I can help you hold the magazine, if you need two hands for that." After a second: "Ooh, that's nice. Doc, this guy catches on fast."

First of all, you have to realize that Anna was one of those women who is inherently sexy, no matter what she's doing or what she's wearing. She had a beautiful voluptuous body, a mane of unmanageable hair, those red lips -- and of course fingernails and toenails bright red like her lipstick. Speaking of which, her pubic hair was fully natural, untrimmed, thick, auburn as in patch-to-match. I have a theory that "as above, so below," applies to women's lips, and Anna was evidence in favor of that. She had full, fleshy labia between her legs, with a big bulging clitoris that I could see from where I sat on the bed. If I were a writer I would describe her pussy as "looking like it has a hearty appetite." And if I put that early in a story it would be called "foreshadowing."

Poor Marty is not the kind of guy who knows how to sweet-talk a woman, or even to compliment her to gain her favor. He doesn't get any of that, he's probably what women would call "a dumb guy." Not that he's dumb, he is just dumb about dealing with women.

Luckily for him, subtlety was not Anna's thing. And though Marty of course didn't know what he was supposed to do, I could see that he was kind of enjoying this sexual assault.

He tried to look at the magazine, but Anna said, "I'm sorry, I can't see the picture with your shirt in the way." Sitting on his lap she somehow whipped his t-shirt off him in half a second.

"Oh," she said. "Nice." Surfers tend to be in good shape, like swimmers but surfing is a little more athletic than swimming. Marty was tan, what my grandfather would have called "husky," meaning in those days that he would be useful on the farm, but on Marty it was just that he was muscular, with broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Anna ran her hand up and down his arm and then his chest, stroking his skin gently and appreciatively.

He started to lift the magazine again but I think everybody knew this was not going to be the time to talk about surfboards.

Anna said, "Doc, I think we're gonna need that bed. Let's switch, you take the chair, we're moving over there." She stood up and her skirt fell in a heap around her feet. I didn't know how she did that. Naked, she was stunning.

She extended her hand to Marty, who took it; she pulled and he stood up, and somehow, without anyone understanding how it happened, I was sitting in my comfortable old chair and the two of them were sitting on the bed.

"Give those to Doc," she said, pulling the magazines from Marty's hand. She passed them to me. "You can get to that later. Right now you have company to entertain."

Marty had a big stupid grin on his face, which occasionally lapsed into an expression of fear. He and I were friends, but we weren't close friends, and we were kind of getting into an uncomfortable zone where privacy expectations were not well defined. On the other hand, a very hot woman clearly wanted to jump his bones in an uncompromising way, and what are you going to do?

Also, I thought it was the funniest fucking thing I'd ever seen.

It didn't take much for Anna to tip Marty onto his back. She leaned over him with a delectable breast dangling over his lips while her hand hustled over his belt buckle and the snaps on his 501s.

Marty tried to sit up but she made that impossible by leaning her naked body against him. "Hey Doc," Marty could just see me through the gap under her arm. "Are you going to sit there and watch?" he said. Anna was giggling.

"No, of course not," I said. "I'm going to close my eyes."

"Oh come on man, how about a little bit of privacy?"

"You want to come into my room, have sex with a beautiful woman in my bed, and kick me out of my own place?"

"Shit," Marty said. "That's a little fucked up."

"I'll be over here looking at surfboard pictures. You won't even know I'm here."

Zip bam boom, a flurry from Anna and Marty's jeans and underwear hit the floor. He had an impressive erection, sticking straight up, longish and thick with a bulbous head. "Now that's what I'm talking bout," Anna said, and she wrapped her fist around it.

Marty lifted his head to look at me. "Is she always like this?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I've never seen this side of her." He fell back. After today I'm going to hell for lying, I thought.

I happen to know that Anna has highly skilled hands. There is nothing I like as much as a good hand job, and Anna had been working with me on perfecting that skill for a few years. She could absolutely put me over the moon, and I saw her doing the same thing to Marty. She would run her fingers up his pole and then use the palm of her hand on the tip of his penis, grinding it mercilessly, which I happen to know is the most wonderfully excruciating experience in the world. Then she ran the loop of her thumb and fingers back down the pole, tugged a little, and jacked back toward the tip.

It occurred to me that, in all these times, I had never been able to watch her do it. Well usually my eyes were closed. I was usually twitching, moaning, drooling on myself, sort of like Marty was doing now. It was fascinating to learn how she actually did what she did. She would take him almost to the edge and then back down, stroke his balls, tug around mid-shaft to keep the stimulation going but not overwhelming the poor boy.

I was sitting at the foot of the bed looking up between Marty's legs, who was on his back with Anna leaning over him from the side, my left, his right. She took his hard-on in her mouth and started sucking on the head of it. And I've got to say, I totally know what that's like, I bet in the last four years Anna has sucked my dick, let's see, three times a week, fifty something weeks a year, four years, my arithmetic says about six hundred times. At least half of those to completion; other times we'd move on from there to something else. But it was amazing to sit down at the foot of the bed, leaning forward in that old chair, and see how she did it.

She was using her fist to follow her mouth, and when she got to the top it looked like she paused and really applied some suction. The guy was moaning, kicking his legs every once in a while, he didn't remember that I was there, or if he did he didn't care. Anna is also a master of the deep throat technique; she had mastered that art before I met her. She also does a thing where she puts it in her cheek and, well the rest of it happens inside her mouth, I can't tell what she's doing, even watching. But Marty was definitely moaning and groaning.

Anna scooted a little and took Marty's hand and put it between her legs as a hint. Not even a hint, more like a command. Anna, I should tell you, gives new meaning to the word multiorgasmic. I think that generally a woman feels it's special to come twice. Anna can continue orgasming until she is physically exhausted, there is no numerical limit. Give her a ten-minute break and her counter starts over again.

Marty started wiggling his fingers on her, and she positioned herself for maximum effect, then got back to work blowing him. She can be so charming, every few minutes she would lift her head -- continuing to jack him off -- and give me a big red-lippy smile.

And by the way, a woman's lipstick is much more attractive when it is smeared from being wrapped around somebody dick. My new fashion idea, I should patent that and market it. Maybe Anna could become an Internet "influencer," demonstrating this new makeup technique to millions of girls all over the world. And I'd be a hero.

He must have been tickling her right, because she had one of her famous monstrous orgasms without lifting her mouth off him. She went into convulsions and made the sexiest sounds. My dick was hard in my jeans, of course, watching all this.

When that one subsided she lay her head on his thigh and stroked his cock a few times, then said, "Okay, let's do some fuckin'." I mean, that poor guy.

She swung her legs over him and lowered herself down on him. I was a couple of feet away watching as she wiggled around on the bulbous head of his dick until it disappeared inside of her, and then she slowly brought her hips down on his, sliding his length into her.

"Oh, I like this," she said, and she began rocking her hips slowly on him. He pumped up into her. I had never seen anything like that, so close, her fluids coating his fat cock as it slipped up into her.

And then it bent, and bent some more, and fell out. "Woops," she said, "Let's see what we can do about that." Zip-zip she had his mostly-limp cock down her throat and it stiffened right back up again. Looked hard as a rock to me, plenty ready for the ride.

She flipped around and mounted him again, and started working her pussy on him, and in ten seconds or so it flopped out of her again, shrinking before my very eyes.

She rolled over, maintaining a cheerful attitude, and looked at his soft penis. "Okay," she said, "No problem." She gave it a couple of tugs and it immediately responded to her touch.

"Sorry." he said.

"Plan B," she said, looking up at his face. "How are you at eatin' pussy?"

"I don't know," he said. "I haven't had any complaints."

"That's my boy," she laughed. "Well we're gonna put you to work. Meanwhile I got my work cut out for me over on this end."

And with that she rolled onto her side, stretched out so her feet were near his head, put one knee up so her legs were fully spread, bowed her head over his crotch and began sucking him. I heard him give a moan as she worked her inimitable magic on him.

After a few seconds she lifted her head and looked back at him. "Uh, it's time for you to get busy down there, buddy," she said, in a quasi-joking tone which I know can become dangerous if you don't pay attention.

Marty rearranged himself with his head between her legs and began slurping. "Oh yes," Anna said, "Much better."

This wasn't quite the spectator sport that fucking was going to be, with both their faces and both their genitals obscured. I sat and watched their heads bobbing and listened to them gurgling, splattering, licking. After about a minute, Anna lifted her head, her eyes squinted tightly, and shouted, "Oof!" and a sort of wave of muscular movement, like peristalsis, swept through her, from her feet to her head and back, and again up and down her body, while she grunted and turned her head upward with her eyes closed and her teeth grinding.