Chapter 1
Sunlight sparkled on the restless ocean waves. Gulls screeched arid cawed, soaring over the narrow strip of rocky beach. Off shore, a gliding pelican tucked its wings and dropped from the clear blue sky like a bomb, It plunged deep into the water and caught a fish in its long beak.
Liz Randolph stood on the windswept shore, tall and serene. She was twenty-two, a first-year high school science teacher just starting her summer vacation. She was putting on a skindiver's wet suit, a figure-hugging layer of foam rubber that would insulate her from the chilling cold water off California's north coast.
The snug, sky-blue suit was custom made to fit her lithe body like a second skin -- long, shapely legs, a slender waist, flaring hips and a trim, supple ass she packed tight as sausage in a tube.
She closed the zipper-front of the tight suit and snugged molded cups of clinging rubber over her jutting, sharp-peaked tits. Liz then reached back to gather her silky long hair.
Smooth waves dark brown and shimmering soft as mink streamed down to the small of her back. She wrapped the glorious cascade of hair around her head, then pulled on a tight fitting hood that left only the classic features of her striking face exposed.
Eyes clear blue and sparkling bright as jewels set off her sculptured features. She looked more like a fashion model than a high school science teacher. That was sometimes a problem in class. Teenaged boys could hardly keep their anxious cocks under control when she walked into the room.
She grinned, cinching a heavy lead weight belt around her slender waist, remembering how it was to lecture before a class of throbbing stiff cocks and seethingly envious young girls who couldn't begin to match their teacher's stunning good looks and subtle sex appeal.
Strangely, there was no man in her life. Liz Randolph's regal beauty made her seem unapproachable. Men stared longingly, some even drooled, but few had the courage to speak -- to ask for a date or anything else.
Lis was twenty-two years old and still a virgin. No man had even kissed her with the passion she was so anxious for. Her stately poise and distant look of cool reserve made the few polished gentlemen she had gone out with act almost reverently, like pilgrims worshipping at some holy shrine.
What she really wanted was a rugged man with balls enough to throw her down and rip her clothes, to kiss with his tongue thrusting and fondle her heaving warm breasts... then spread her elegant legs and ram an aching hard cock into her: Liz had read the scene a hundred times in romantic novels, the lusty kind that some call "bodice rippers." The hero was always handsome, usually a daring adventurer or a devilish rogue. The heroines were all innocent beauties, shy and fearful even when madly in love.
She was a lot like the girls in those stories... except that Liz had not met a man daring or devilish enough to excite her, and she had never fallen madly in love. The stunning young teacher had to satisfy herself with fantasy love affairs and a middle finger that twirled expertly around her simmering clit bud.
Her slithering finger teased up a flood of sleek, musk scented honey when she worked it between the slender, softly puffed lips of her virgin cunt slit. Nights alone in her bed, Liz could stimulate herself to one grinding climax after another.
But solitary orgasms that sparked from the tip of a wiggling finger always left her with a fierce yearning that she lacked the courage to satisfy. Her craving for love and lust was mixed with a fearful shyness that always held her back.
Liz sighed, seating herself on a driftwood log to put on her frog-like swim fins. Then she strapped on her diving mask and snorkel, starting to look like an odd creature from outer space.
She was an expert swimmer and skindiver. Liz could descend sixty feet just holding her breath and stay down over two minutes. That was another problem. She met some great looking guys on the beach, but never one who could keep up with her in the water. Being out-done by a woman turned them cold, and she wasn't the kind who could hold back her best effort... not for anyone.
So that day she was diving alone -- not a wise idea even for an expert. But she had no choice. Liz had no male friends, and few women wanted to be seen with her. Even those with looks that would harden a man's cock a hundred yards away started feeling drab when Liz flashed that shy, haunting smile of hers.
A wave curled and crashed on the rocky shore, rolling into a swirl of white foam. Liz waded into the water, pushing an inner tube with a gunny sack tied open inside the hole. That was her "catch bag." In a short time, she expected it to be heavy with a limit of abalone, a delicious shellfish that clings to undersea rocks like a suction cup.
Liz swam along the surface, face-down and breathing through her snorkel, gazing at the colorful life forms on the ocean floor. Anemone that looked like flowers with wavering tentacles instead of petals. Sea urchins that looked like purple pin cushions bristling with sharp spines. And starfish with crusty arms long enough to cover a dinner plate.
Fish swam among the rocky crags in forests of kelp -- seaweed that was really drag brown, but iridescent and shimmering like a purple haze under the sea. Liz loved the ocean and all its creatures, even the menacing moray eels she saw now and then.
They were long as her arm and thick as a fire hose, gifted with needle-sharp teeth set in a slanted jaw that made them seem to be leering. Liz saw one looking out of a rocky crevice and angled around so as not to come near.
The water off Cape Mendocino was cold and exceptionally clear that day. She could see sixty or eighty feet down. Ahead on the hazy fringe of her vision, Liz saw a leopard shark four feet long -- not a particularly dangerous type like the Mako or Great White, but no shark can be trusted completely. Liz swam in a wide arch to give it plenty of room, holding her speargun ready just in case.
The barbed spear powered by finger-thick rubber bands wasn't needed. The spotted shark was equally anxious to avoid her. It swam off into the gloom with a languid swish of its sharp tail.
A hundred yards off shore she swam over a broad table of craggy rock cut by deep, narrow crevices. A perfect place to look for abalone. Liz put the speargun in her catch bag and untied a broad, flat bar like a tire iron from the tube. She would use that to pry the clinging abalone off the rocks.
She sucked a breath through the snorkel and piked her lithe body to dive, slipping beneath the surface so smoothly that she left hardly a ripple.
Underwater she swam like a dolphin, undulating her whole body length, both long legs held together and working as one. Thirty feet down, the pressure made her ears hurt. She tensed her chest as though to exhale and compressed the air inside her skull to match the water pressure.
Silent as a shadow, she swam to the bottom, into a narrow cleft. She swam a few feet off the sandy ocean floor, scanning craggy rock walls on both sides. After thirty seconds, Liz saw what she was looking for -- an abalone at least ten inches across.
The shell looked like an oval soup bowl turned upside down, rimmed near one edge with a row of holes. She jabbed the broad tip of her iron under the abalone's muscular suction cup flesh and pried up, popping it off the rock.
She caught it in the other hand and arched her back, kicking with willowy long legs held together as she rose toward the surface. Sunlight sparkled on wind ripples and made the surface look like a tin roof forty or so feet above.
Lips sealed around the mouthpiece of her snorkee curved into a grin. She'd taken one nice ab on her first dive and seen several more. Liz would have her limit in no time, and a gourmet lunch to cook on the shore.
Then suddenly she jarred to a stop. She kicked harder and rose a little, but then was pulled back as though by a giant invisible hand. She felt a shiver of chilling fear. What could be holding her? Liz saw nothing, but she could not free herself from the unseen force.
Twisting, she tried to swim away to the left, but she was yanked to a stop and pulled back again. She tried going to the right and that didn't work either.
Fear swelled in her chest like a ball of fire. She had been down about a minute and a half. That left thirty seconds to free herself from what seemed like an invisible net. She dropped the abalone and her iron, pawing with both gloved hands to find whatever it was holding her forty feet down.
She found it quickly enough -- a tangle of monofilament fishing line. It was heavy stuff, much too strong to break. And then with a feverish flare of panic, Liz remembered that her diving knife was still on shore. Thinking about her frustrated love life made her careless. She'd forgotten to strap on the knife, and now she was snarled in a web of barely visible strands from which there seemed to be no escape.
Coils were tangled around her neck and legs. Thrashing to free herself, she only succeeded in tangling her right arm as well. Restless currents swayed the invisible net back and forth, wrapping it tighter and tighter.
Liz felt her lungs start to ache and burn as her body used up the oxygen in that one precious breath. She exhaled a little of the stale air to relieve the strain and watched a silvery stream of bubbles rise toward the surface that might as well have been forty miles away.
She started to feel faint. Her vision blurred. The chilling fear and fiery pain in her chest both faded into an eerie bliss. Liz thought, "I'm going to die," but was so dazed that did not really concern her.
Her lithe body went limp, arms dangling, legs without strength. She only moved when swayed by the restless current. "In a second or two I'll have to take a breath," she was thinking. "I'll suck cold sea water into my lungs and that will be it. I'll be dead!"
Then her head jerked with a last flare of consciousness. She heaved a sad moan and spit out the mouthpiece of her snorkel. Liz felt herself laughing sadly inside. "My God," her mind cried. "I'm going to die a virgin! I'll go to heaven with my cherry still sealed."
Her glazed, misty blue eyes clamped shut, and just as she had heard would happen, her whole life flashed before her as though on a movie screen inside her skull.
Liz saw her parents. They divorced when she was only three years old and she had only seen her father twice in all the years since. That made him still a young man in her memory, strong and daring as any of the heroes in romantic novels she read. He was a geologist who explored the world looking for oil.
She wished now there had been time to know him better. Her only visions of him were waving good-bye. Because Liz had lived with her mother all through school, she looked older in memory, but still a beautiful woman with a lush figure.
Her mother was not at all shy like Liz. Men flocked after her. She never remarried, but had one affair after another. When Liz was young, she called the men that stayed in their house for a few days or few weeks at most "Uncle." There was Uncle Jack, Uncle Bob, Uncle Frank and Uncle Pete -- more uncles than she could remember.
When Liz grew older and began to ripen as a stunning woman, some of her uncles made passes at her. Half a dozen men who slept with her mother wanted to make it with the daughter as well.
They playfully patted her tight little ass and "accidentally" brushed her blossoming sharp-peaked tits. One even whipped out his cock when her mother wasn't home -- eight inches of pulsing, vein-ridged male flesh swollen so hard with lusty blood that the bulbous head of it seemed to glow red.
Dazed and breathless, Liz remembered what he said. "Your Mommie likes it, sweetheart... and so will you." He wanted her to suck it before he stuck it in. She gagged at the thought, but wished now she'd been more daring. She wouldn't have died a timid virgin... unknowing and untried.
Liz was fast losing consciousness, lost in a hazy dream world of memory, still viewing scenes from her past life, realizing how dull and uneventful it had all been. The faces of men she might have made love with flashed before her eyes -- one that she couldn't remember.
He was blonde and broad shouldered. A stray lock of hair stuck out from the hood of his wet suit. Someone she met diving? A great-looking guy with jade green eyes. A ruggedly handsome face tanned like bronze.
His lips curved into a smile, venting silver bubbles when he took the mouthpiece from his scuba tank out of his mouth. Just as her lips parted to breathe in the sea, he pushed the rubber bit into her mouth.
"Huuungh!" Liz exhaled sharply to blow out water that filled the hose. Then she drew a deep, thankful breath. Air from the silver tank on his back tasted cold and metallic, but so wonderfully fresh at the same time.
This wasn't a face from her past. He was with her in the here and now, another diver sharing the mouthpiece and hose to let her breathe life-giving air. "I'm going to live!" she wanted to scream. "I'm going to live!"
He was able to hold his breath as long or longer than she could. At least two minutes passed before she thought to give back the hose so he could breathe. All that time she was breathing in deep, rasping gulps. He looked at her fondly, flashing a warm grin that made her heart race as it had when she first became tangled in fishing line snagged on the bottom.
After one breath, he passed back the mouthpiece and drew a sharp knife from a sheath strapped low on his right leg. He began cutting the almost invisible tangle. Liz felt herself pull free and rise slowly.
He swam toward the surface, facing her and staying close so she could catch another breath along the way. They broke the surface and both pushed their masks up on their foreheads, breathing fresh sea air not compressed in a steel tank.
"Thank God!" she gasped.
"No," he said in a rumbling deep voice. "Thank me and my scuba tank. I think the Lord would have let you drown." She gasped, "Yes, it looked that way," Liz said. Her throat still felt parched and dry from the burning heat that came with lack of breath. "Thank you!"
Her shyness and air of distant reserve vanished in a warm glow of boundless gratitude. Liz twined her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips with all the smoldering passion she'd held back for so long.
"Oooh, baby!" he moaned, hugging her around the waist. Then they kissed again, treading water and behaving like a pair of love-sick seals. His gloved hands inched up and gently fondled her breasts.
One touch sent fiery shocks of pleasure rippling down her spine, even though his gloves and her wet suit put half an inch of foam rubber between them.
Liz slid her hands down and hugged him around the waist, pressing the sleek, soft rise of her pussy mound anxiously against his groin. She felt something surge and start to swell hard inside his wet suit. "Hhhooo!" she gasped anxiously, pressing and writhing her body with his.
Her brush with death unleashed passion like the shy school teacher had never felt before. She pumped and swivelled her hips, forgetting to work her feet when his cock strained hard and pressed against the quivering slit of her cunt.
They slipped beneath the surface still locked in a clinging embrace. Their tongues thrust back and forth. He sucked on hers and she sucked on his, neither much aware of how deep they'd sunk.
When their lips parted reluctantly, he gave her the bubbling mouthpiece. While she took a deep breath, he pulled off his gloves and eased down the zippered front of her tight fitting suit.
Liz felt a shivering chill as cold sea water swirled around her warm breasts. He cupped and kneaded them with strong hands, making her heart race more wildly than before.
Mindless of the cold sea, she stripped off her gloves and tugged at the long zipper pull beneath his chin. She slid it all the way down to his crotch and reached in.
He wore a bathing suit under the warming foam layer. She held him around the waist with one hand and slipped the other inside his swim suit without thinking.
She gripped his cock and felt it throb despite the icy water that surrounded them. He gave a gurgling moan of joy that rose as a stream of shimmering bubbles. Liz fondled his hardened cock, a thick rod of flesh over nine inches long.
Feeling its hammering pulse made her fingers tingle and her pussy squirm. He grinned and pressed close while she played with his dong, satisfying a curiosity she'd held in check for so many lonely years.
He had to release his grip, on one thrusting tit to take back the scuba mouthpiece and breathe. Liz held her breath and saw herself as a mermaid, a lusty free spirit born under the sea. He loosened her weight belt and let it drop, then pulled the zipper of her wet suit further down.
Liz wore a string bikini under her wet suit. He deftly untied the knots and pulled it out of the way. Her dark, narrow wedge of mink-brown cunt hair shimmered in the flickering glow of light that filtered forty feet down.
A strange thought rambled through her mind. "My God, I'm holding a man's naked cock in my hand, and I don't even know his name."
But she remembered the lecherous "uncle" who flashed his cock and begged her to kiss it. Liz pushed herself deeper until she was at eye-level with his huge dick. With her mask still up on her forehead, she could not see too clearly. Maybe that eased her fears. She pressed forward and kissed his swollen cockhead, swiping her tongue all around the soft fleshy ridge and down the steely hard shaft beyond.
He pumped his hips and pushed salty wet cock clear to the soft back of her mouth. Liz gulped and felt her throat clench, but she tipped her head back and willed the narrow tunnel of moist flesh to relax.
His meaty cock plugged her tight throat completely. She could feel its lusty pulse and spreading warmth go deep. Even in her romantic fantasies, Liz never imagined herself sucking a man's cock, rocking and swaying her head, nibbling her soft lips all the way to his root.
Easing back, she licked and teased with a flicking tongue. Then she lunged forward, sucking with such frenzy that her cheeks collapsed all around his hard shaft. She rippled her throat and heard delighted grunting noises above her head.
The ruggedly handsome stranger that saved her life clamped both hands back of her head and fucked his cock into her face, loving the sleek, lively tunnel of love that pulled on his plunging dick like a suction pump.
He stiffened suddenly, grunting and moaning wet sounds of pleasure distorted the ocean water all around. They were weightless in the underwater world, hanging suspended without effort while his balls steamed and churned to erupt silver-white liquid fire.
"Hungh!" he groaned, pressing her lips to his hairy dick root. Liz gulped, never having thought this would happen -- that he would cum in her mouth. But sticky, slithering cum spat from the head of his cock and sprayed the walls of her throat.
"Glungh," she said, swallowing instinctively. There were no taste buds in the depths of her throat, so she was only aware of the slippery heat slowly sliding down.
Then he arched back and fired a creamy hot blast into her mouth. It made her cheeks puff, sliding over her tongue and rising like the tide around her back teeth. "Hungh," she said gulping again.
This time she could really taste the slimy, salt-sweet stuff he fired into her, one searing hot spurt after another. Liz kept sucking and swaying her head, draining his cock with grateful gulps of lewd delight.
After the first taste of creamy thick cum, she decided the taste was not bad at all. It reminded her of eating raw oysters-liquid raw oysters.
Then he drew his drained cock from her mouth and cupped her tits again, raising her to his eye level. They each caught a breath from the tank on his back and he circled an arm around her slender waist.
Reaching down with the other hand, he worked the head of his cock on her clit bud, teasing and twirling until she wanted to scream in wild rapture. Her anxious virgin pussy pulsed and simmered heat.
She gasped a watery sound, part nervous fear and part raging desire. He pressed her close, arched his back and pushed his cock into her puckered virgin pussy.