To write it, though, I’d need to get the setting and I’d rather go to Alaska where they speak English. Maybe the trawler capsized and the girl was...rescued by the Coast Guard. We have a station here. There’s always a story.I more-or-less know the locations for sand print stories, usually behind the driftwood where high tide swept the sand the evening before. Before the next tide covers the prints, you see where someone lay and another’s been above.Oregon beaches are probably the starting place. He could feel her arms tense around his neck. Her breathing came in short spurts. Her legs clamped onto his hips as he rode her until she cried out almost in tears as her overwhelming climax shuttered through her. He held her, his cock still inside her, but not thrusting just the way she liked it allowing her to feel every sensation without being interrupted. He could feel her pussy pulsating on his cock and waited until it subsided. ‘Feel good baby?’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Oh God Jason.. More

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