Spring Break

It twined up her leg with a tenacity that was frightening. She’d been stupid to take the paddle board out by herself. She’d been an idiot to not leave a note, not tell anyone of her friends at the spring break house they’d rented together of her plans to see the dawn out over the open waters of the Gulf.

She hadn’t expected the sail to slip out of her grasp, and underestimated how hard it would be to right it alone.

And hanging onto the board, she’d been worried about sharks. It seemed something else was lurking in the dark warm water. It held tight, despite her frantic kicking. Another limb began to climb her other leg, and with horror she realized that she felt another around her waist. At first she’d thought it was Sargasso or some other kind of sea fauna. But it began to crawl up her. And stick to her. And it was everywhere over her now, around her middle, under her bikini, stuck to her breasts, to her thighs, to her (omg!) pussy.

Begging, whimpering, thrashing — nothing stopped it from crawling over her. It explored her. A single twisting tentacle stroked down her face, poked into her nose, into her ear. She kept her teeth gritted tightly, but it wriggled its way into her mouth as well. It tasted salty, and was too tough to even bite. Her breasts were squeezed as if she were being milked, and she regretted once again having huge udder-like breasts. How she hated those big hanging bags of flesh. And now this…beast…was going to rip them off her body.

But it didn’t. It continued to squeeze and tug, palpating them. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t agony. It was embarrassing how it seemed to turn her on. She didn’t know that she’d let go of the paddleboard, that it floated softly away. Entirely supported by the creature that was continuing its explorations, she gave up, gave in.

She was certain she was about to become octopi food. Didn’t they eat all sorts of creatures? Wasn’t she a creature to it, here in its native habitat? She relaxed, felt loose, not realizing that the tentacles were slipping neuro-altering venom into her. She felt hot, itchy. She wanted a drink.

An obliging squirt of some thick fluid down her throat made her swallow thankfully. Her vulva swelled, her pussy beginning to secrete its special juice. When the first tentacle entered her, her only thought was ‘at last’…as she spasmed through her first orgasm.  As the thickly muscled tentacle pushed inside of her, she felt her legs jerking, her hips trying to fuck though she couldn’t move. Her cunt squeezed down, nipples tightened as she erupted again. In the water, a white milky fluid surrounded them, which  made the beast thrash and dance over her. Her anus was invaded, but she somehow flowed with it, the pressure as it filled her something accepted, desired. The orgasms came, one after another until she felt empty, devoid of want or need or care.

The sun slipped over the horizon. The sky and water burned with hues from rose to amber. She roused, her arms wrapped around the paddleboard, her body lying across it. How the hell had she fallen asleep out here?

Leaning out, she grabbed the curved handle of the sail. It rose easily into the sky, and with the sun at her back, she began to tack back to the beach. The salt dried on her body, which felt sticky in the heat of the morning.

She felt awesome. What a hell of a start to the day. When she got to the beach, she saw Zach.

“Hey Emma,” he hollered.

“Where the hell is your bathing suit?”

He met her in the surf-line, helping her tug the board up above the high tide line.

“And hey…where’d you get all those weird red circles from? You look like you were hugged by an octopus or something.”


7 thoughts on “Spring Break”

  1. “Hey Zorg,” Tentacle Snooples hollers to Tentacle Zorg, “where have you been?”
    “All those weird bite marks?”
    “What?” Tentacle Zorg looks over his shoulder, and his other shoulder, then his other shoulder. “Where?”
    “Are those “love bites”?”
    “Nothing to see,” rumbles Xorg, suddenly moving on.
    “Yeah?” says Snooples, tapping her tentacles, “Then why in the hell is there a bathing suit on your head?”
    “Nope,” says Xorg, “don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “What kind of relationship is this? Who was the little tramp *this* time? You want a relationship? You can’t have a relationship without honesty!”
    “I can’t *hear* you…”
    “Don’t you dare turn your backs on me!”

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