My wife and I were both aching and weary from the trip, so we decided to take a quick, refreshing, stroll down the beach before setting up camp. It was a warm, breezy night with small but frequent waves rolling onto the shore. "The wind, the water, the sound of the waves, you know what the elements do to me," said Susan after walking only about 100 yards. "I'm really wet, you want to see?" she asked. Of course I did, so I slipped a couple of fingers up her shorts and into her shaved pussy. "Wow, you've really seemed to get ready quick, considering how tired you were just a few minutes ago," I responded. "You need help taking care of that, or do we need to wait until we've rested a bit?" I asked. "I'd prefer it if you helped, but I need to cum, and I can't wait any longer," she said. With that, I removed my shirt and spread it out on the sand, just far enough from the waves where we wouldn't get wet, but close enough to feel the mist each time one rolled in. She was already on her. “You mean my stink hole?” Betty joked as she wafted her hand behind her ass, playfully like she was blowing away a sour smell. “It says if I don’t do what I tell you I am going to do, please kick me in the ass,” she admitted with a grin.“Jeez, that’s a little different than writing cum dump or drawing a big old dick on your ass,” Cheyenne observed. Her eyes gleamed mischievously as she commented on her mother’s body-writing. They had teased her mercilessly the weekend before, and today she didn’t have nearly as much body writing on her.“That’s a woman’s writing,” Savannah observed the penmanship was too flowery to belong to a guy. She asked if Robert brought a girl with him.“Your Aunt Karen wrote that on me,” Betty said. She had promised to keep this a secret as long as no one asked her about it. Now that the cat was out of the bag, Betty thought nothing of admitting who had done the writing. She thought Karen would laugh it off.Karen was mortified. She looked down at her plate and.
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