Wet, Wild, and Kraken-Curious

After Caylor had finally mustered the courage
to kick Ben’s lying adulterous ass out of her flat,
her best friends Iphigenia and Louise
had proposed a girls’ weekend on the Costa del Sol.

“A celebratory weekend,” said Iphigenia,
who had always taken a dim view of Ben.
They could dance until three in the morning
and drown their sorrows in cheap alcohol,
said Louise. When Caylor ventured to suggest
that a parade of leering men and endless mojitos
might not really be the best solution to her woes,
they had exchanged increduous glances
and a day later presented her
with the fait accompli
of a hotel booking and flight tickets.

Alas, as Robbie Burns once observed,
even the best-laid plans of mice and men
often go awry; and the same is true,
perhaps even more so,
of their poor- to moderately-laid counterparts.
In the case of the girls’ weekend,
it had turned into a girl’s weekend:
at the last minute,
a virulent stomach bug had taken out Iphigenia
and Louise had broken her leg,
thus leaving Caylor to travel alone
as a sad singleton.

Nothing about this weekend jaunt
had impressed her much so far.
She had no idea how she’d manage to squeeze
on to the Ryanair flight (two hours delayed!)
without the extra room of a bulkhead row,
but somehow she’d managed to survive
like a sardine between her seatmates
as her giant breasts nudged the tray table.
The woman sitting in front of her, however,
had tried to recline her seat,
and, failing to manage it, turned around
to discover the source of her difficulty.
She had taken one glance at Caylor, shot her a dirty look
and spent the rest of the flight
making loud comments about indecent people
on public transport.

A body-shamer and idiot to boot. A plane wasn’t public transport.
Caylor had wished that her breasts were big enough
to smother that woman’s sour face over the seat back.

Upon landing in Spain,
she’d said a prayer of thanks
for the fact that, with only a small carry-on suitcase,
she need not wait a certain eternity
at the baggage claim.
Courtesy of a road accident, however,
the cab took a circuitous route back to her hotel—
arriving too late for dinner,
but the young man on duty at the desk
had taken one look at her heaving bosom
and arranged to send up a plate of fruit and cheese
with half a bottle of red wine;

and after she’d scarfed it down,
she set out for the hotel’s private beach.
A swim would do her good,
she told herself. It always helped
to get into the water at the end of the day.

Her blue bikini strained at the seams.
She’d chosen this one for the colour,
a lovely blue that matched her hair,
but, she admitted as she strolled
down the stone steps to the sand,
she probably would have done better to leave it on the rack.
The tiny scraps of fabric constantly slipped out of place,
exposing her nipples and generally doing very little
to provide any modesty.

As soon as she reached the foot of the stairs
and a quick glance about the darkened sand
told her that she was alone,
she cast off her bikini. Top and bottom—
she deserved it, after that miserable flight
and missed dinner.

Caylor lay on her back, drifting on the waves
and staring up at the stars,
until the tide carried her back to shore.
In the light of the gibbous moon,
she turned to collect her towel and bikini,
then looked back at the beach one last time.

She squinted. The darkness made it hard
to see anything, but surely something—yes,
there it was! A patch of the sea
was frothing and churning
just where she’d been floating only moments ago.

Frowning, she went back to the water’s edge
and waded in.

Oops.

She had an impression of thick tentacles,
too many too count,
as they swarmed over her body
and knocked her to the sand.
She opened her mouth to scream;
as if the creature had anticipated as much,
heavy coils snaked around her throat.
Others squeezed her thighs like a warning;
while yet more of them massed around her calves.

She struggled in silence, flailing and grunting
as she attempted to scoot herself up the sand to the stairs,
but to no avail.
The tentacles dragged her back to the water’s edge
trussed up like a Sunday roast.

A slim tentacle reached up and caressed her cheek,
just as a human lover would have done,
but trailing slime in its wake like a snail.
She shied away, squeezing her eyes shut,
but it persisted and, dammit,
with her hands bound behind her back
she couldn’t exactly teach it a lesson
by tying it in a knot.

She heaved a sigh and let it nuzzle her face,
trying not to gag.
That small capitulation seemed to satisfy the creature;
the tentacles about her throat loosened
and then settled on her shoulders,
their muscular tips moving against her skin
in a weirdly intimate massage.
After that awful flight,
it was just what she needed—
and even if the circumstances surrounding it
were questionable to say the least,
Caylor moaned at the sheer pleasure
in spite of herself.

At once, a tentacle, as if drawn by the sound,
slithered up her arm, nosing her throat and then her chin
as she made little sounds of contentment.

“Ahhh!” she shrieked as its slime touched her lips.
She needed no light, not even moonlight,
to know without a single doubt
that the tentacle had the shape of a human dick.
A circumcised dick, to be precise.
And to be even more precise:
a larger-than-life, insistent, sentient, circumcised dick.

She regretted her scream at once.
The tentacle-dick slid into her mouth,
squirming like a giant worm that had suddenly
found itself confined in a too-small space.
Her lips stretched tight around the slick flesh,
her protests reduced by its girth
to “mmph!” and “arghghgh!”
as she tried to push it away with her tongue.

Another mistake. The tentacle,
having apparently discovered a new source of pleasure,
began to thrust deeper, taunting her
with the possibility of retreat
only to return to delicately probe her tonsils
as she swirled her tongue
around its sinuous, twisting length.

It wasn’t really that bad,
she decided hazily between thrusts.
Better than most men she’d sucked off, anyway,
who’d never massaged her aching shoulders
or stretched her mouth so deliciously.

She applied herself to the task of pleasuring the tentacle,
and after a few minutes of enthusiastic sucking and stroking,
it made a frantic push forward
to release a gush of briny warm liquid
down her throat. She sputtered, swallowing,
just as another tentacle nudged its way to the fore
and began a firm and decisive
investigation of her mouth.
And then another, and another…

Caylor gave up.
She might as well go with the flow—
which, if she were honest, wasn’t all bad.
She relaxed against the ministrations
of the tentacles at her shoulders,
let others plunder her mouth,
slide between her breasts, tease her pussy,
whatever they wanted. That one on her clit
certainly seemed to know its way around
the anatomy of a human female:
her snatch was sopping wet,
and that had nothing to do
with her recent skinny-dipping.

She squirmed, and the tentacle-dick between her legs
responded at once, sliding its broad head
between her dripping folds into her pussy.
Oh, God, it was so thick…so long…
so much bigger than any man she’d ever fucked,
and it seemed to expand and lengthen
as it burrowed endlessly into her body.
Her pussy pulsed with bliss. At last
a worthy guest within its walls!

The tentacle in her mouth, perhaps sensing
her preoccupation, withdrew—but not
before squirting a mouthful of sea-salty liquid
down her throat.
Gagging as she propped herself up on her elbows,
she spat out the dregs of the creature’s cum
and then gave another little shriek
as the tentacle-dick writhed in her womb.
She fell back into the sand again, moaning,
and the tentacle twisted
and hit her G-spot.
Then it changed its pace,
leaving frenzy behind in favour
of long, curling motions that rubbed her
in just…the…right…way…

Caylor collapsed,
cum leaking from her pussy
as the tentacle-dick withdrew.
How long she lay there
she didn’t know. Overhead, the stars wheeled;
in the water, tentacles caressed her nipples
and slithered around her ankles
like slimy cats seeking affection.

She rolled on to her breasts.
Between her legs, her pussy still throbbed
with the happy memory of its latest guest.
She giggled.
Iphigenia and Louise had probably not
imagined this scenario when they’d called that morning
to wish her bon voyage.
Not to mention—
how much cum had she swallowed?!
That level of salt intake couldn’t be healthy.

Sighing, she let her head rest on her pillowing breasts
and waited for the tentacles to retreat.

They didn’t. Instead,
they twisted lazily around her wrists and ankles,
twining up her leg to stroke her asscrack
and then paused against her anus
before prodding it gently as if to determine
the possibility of egress.

Dammit! She whipped around, seizing the offender
for a bare second before it slid out of her grasp,
but another snaked up at once
to take its place on her ass.
Its broad head nosed the little hole,
pushing and prodding as it attempted
to break down her back door.

Fucking A. She should have expected as much.
After all, alien butt probes were a thing,
weren’t they? She huffed with resignation.
Well, she was no stranger
to ambivalent participation in butt sex.
Ben had had a curious predilection for anal,
and she’d capitulated often enough
despit her own disinterest,
but really, six tentacles had just creamed themselves down her throat
and another one had unloaded into her pussy.
Couldn’t the damn thing appreciate that?

Apparently not.
The tentacle-dick had begun
secreting slime into her crack,
massaging it against her back hole—
which, she realized with some surprise,
had begun spasming with excitement.

“Noooooo,” she moaned,
but she didn’t really mean it.
Tentacles glided over her breasts,
looping around her waist and bearing her down
to give their fellows easy access, she supposed,
to her ass. They swarmed about her legs,
tugging apart her knees
until she lay splayed on the sand
with her ass in the air.
She pushed her hips up, and the tentacle,
evidently taking this as a sign of encouragement,
seized the opportunity
to worm its way up her anus and into her rectum.

“Ohhhhhh!” she squealed
as it wiggled experimentally inside her.
It had never felt like this with Ben; in fact,
she had never imagined anything
could feel like this at all.
Although her butt had always induced Ben to blow huge loads,
such ecstasy had eluded her—
until now. Inside her ass,
the tentacle strained this way and that,
nosing its way forward with a delicacy
with which Ben (fuck him!
in a much less pleasurable way
than how she was currently being fucked!)
had never bothered.

To be fair, it was hardly his fault.
His dick, like those of all human men,
lacked the flexibility and muscularity
of the alien equivalent that was currently exploring her backside.
Its inquisitve head nudged the walls of her rectum,
twisting this way and that,
and Caylor wailed
as nerves that she’d never known she possessed
flamed at its touch.

And then…oh, Christ…
it rounded the corner of her intestine
and began to creep upwards.
She clutched her stomach, groaning
as her guts roiled at its invasion.

At once the tentacle-dick retreated to her rectum
and then withdrew.
Caylor blinked at the sudden emptiness in her ass.
Had it really just—oh, no,
it hadn’t. Another tentacle was already
at her back door. She gasped
as it slid into her ass with an slinky sentience
and began twisting and thrusting
Tiny sparks of pleasure erupted inside her
and Caylor breathed deeply,
allowing her sphincter to relax even further,
the better to accomodate the tentacle’s girth.

“Oooooooh,” she whimpered
as another tentacle slid up and around her clit,
circling and stroking in a way that suggested
it knew exactly what it was doing.
“Mmmmmm…”

Moaning and writhing on the sand,
she vaguely registered the tentacling sliding out of her ass
with a little flick of its tip,
and another gliding in to take its place.

Jesus fuck. She gave a little scream,
twisting around to look
at the monster invading her nether parts.
It looked as thick as it felt,
which was to say like a pint glass.
Yet despite her wails, it slid its broad head inside,
stretching her hole to dimensions
that she had previously thought impossible.

The fire in her ass burned with a ferocity
that could have set the sea aflame,
but the sensation only heightened her excitement.
She lifted her hips to meet the giant tentacle’s thrusts
even as its fellow continued to fondle her clit
with surprising expertise.

Clouds drifted in front of the moon.
One by one, the bright windows of the hotel
dimmed to darkness. And on the beach,
a giant squid with tentacle dicks
pounded the ass of a woman whose helpless moans
belied her enthusiasm for a sex act
whose charms had heretofore eluded her.

Then with a final, massive push, it came.
The force of its ejaculation sent a wave of cum into her guts
just as the tentacle on her clit tipped her over the edge.
Caylor’s soft shrieks and helpless moans
became a full-throated scream of ecstasy,

and as that sound pierced the night,
the creature pulled out of her ass
in one long smooth movement.
Tentacles slid over her body in a frenzied retreat,
as if the creature had belatedly discovered
that to be found assaulting skinny-dippers
might lead to unwanted consequences.

In the wake of the tentacle’s withdrawal,
Caylor’s ass gaped; cum rushed out
onto the sand below her.
And was that—
was that a sea breeze blowing softly
up the tunnel of her rectum?
She groaned, clenching her ass,
and more cum slopped out of her hole
as it tightened and then closed.

Floating on a cloud of bliss,
or rather, on her breasts pillowing out beneath her,
Caylor closed her eyes and smiled.

This sad single’s weekend wasn’t turning out too badly after all.

FINIS