Sexcapade Of Natasha – 27

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SEXCAPADE OF NATASHA – (27)
By Emdee David

Ken joins Natasha in Geneva. They sit on the sand watching the sea wave roar and foam. Natasha is still on that bikini he’d seen on her photos on Facebook. He also wears multi-colour Caribbean beach boxers with flower designs. The boxers are tight on him, so tight enough that “something” bulged in it. Natasha notices it and rubs it with her tender right hand.
“You missed me?”

“No,” Ken lies.

“Okay. ‘Cos you are angry, right?”

“No, ‘cos I’m okay.”

“Really? Someone else, right?”

“Yeah, someone with a heart; a Good Samaritan.”
“Interesting, but good Samaritans take people to hospitals, not to bed.”

“Well, let’s just say, this Samaritan is from Nigeria, where treatment can be done anywhere and by anyone.”

“Oh, yeah!” Natasha says and withdraws her hand.

“Oh yeah,” Ken repeats and replaces her hand with his, rubbing it. “Or, haven’t a Carpenter fixed your car’s fault before?”

Natasha laughs. “Yeah, I remember. But I can’t remember if he used a hammer or a spanner.”

“What difference did it make? Was the problem not fixed?”

Natasha is silent. She plays with the sand for some time and then she stands up. Ken joins her.

“Where are you going to, we are still talking,” Ken says, running after her. She stops and faces him.

“So is an electrician doing your laundry now?”

“Nope, a cook; a black and busty cook.”

“Cynthia! Bastard!” she begins to run again. Ken runs after her.

“Where are you running to?” demands Ken, failing to hold her hand.

“To the sea where I belong.”

“Holy Moses,” Ken exclaims and stops abruptly. “No.”

Natasha is at the edge of the water, waiting for the wave to sweep over her. It comes with a heavy sound. Ken runs there to meet her and then holds her from behind. They both fall as the waves push them backwards and cover them before rolling back to the sea. Natasha and Ken start to kiss passionately. Then, Ken pulls down her bra and sends her nipples to his mouth. Natasha’s hands grab his butts tightly, and then finds their way into the boxers, massaging his bare buttocks.

“There are others in the beach,” Natasha whispers.

“I don’t care.”

“That means you miss me.”

“I missed marrying you,”

“Oh, poor you.”

“I love you,” Ken tells her, moaning in sweet pleasure. He turns her around and with a finger pulls aside the tiny ropes that hold the pants together. There is enough opening to her pussy. His fingers go first. It is wet and warm. He touches her clitoris to arouse her deeply. Natasha is pleasured. Then she pulls down his boxers and holds his manhood lovingly in her closed palms.

“Here?” Ken mutters.

“You don’t care, do you? You are seeing only me, right?” Natasha says and does not wait for any response. Ken is fully erect and ready. He would never withdraw even at gunpoint. She inserted it into herself and enjoys gentle penetration. The waves come again and bath them with warm water and sea sand. They hold their selves tightly and Ken thrusts deeper. Natasha exhales.

“Oh baby, you are killing,” Ken whispers.

“No, not me. Behind you,” says Natasha and then turns him around. A uniform man is pointing a short gun at him, at his dick, actually. He quickly covers it with both hands.

The soldier cocks the gun and presses on the trigger. Ken screams, closing his eyes. Natasha jumps in front of him and grabs his manhood and begins to suck it. The soldier bends and aims at the testicles and then pulls the trigger. Ken shouts.

“Are you dreaming?” Cynthia says to Ken as he wakes up violently, pushing her mouth away from his dick.


“Next round, please, I want more,” Cynthia says.

——- To Be Cont’d——

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Emdee David is a Creative writer, Poet, Producer and Director of radio/TV/Digital Media contents. As a creative, innovative and talented writer, his works include “Shadows of the Sun” (Heinemann Publishers – in view), and several poems. His passion and interests are in Entertainment, Politics, Digital Media and Youth mentorship. He is the President of Africa Entertainment Network (AEN) and currently a postgraduate student of Media and Communications at CIAPS.

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