Along the Foamy Strand

Sarah brings her nose to the slight bulge at Amy's wet panties, her smaller bush pushing out the cloth. She sniffs deeply at Amy's crotch, feeding off the lovely flavor of Amy's own juices, and rebuilding her own excitement. Sarah tenderly presses her lips against the moist fabric, tasting a tantalizing whisper of Amy's own salty, sweet and creamy essence, her tongue reflexively lapping against the smooth, wet fabric.

Sarah's hands slip under the elastic bands of the panties at each leg hole, sliding upwards, silky fabric against the back of her hands, smooth, firm, warm feminine flesh against her palms, to cup Amy's butt cheeks, one full globe firmly grasped in each hand. With her new leverage, Sarah presses her face harder and deeper into Amy's crotch, now aggressively pressing into and teasing Amy's pussy and clit, as she stimulates Amy's unslaked lust. Her hands warmly and firmly caress her wife's hot ass - Amy's bottom has always been a tremendous turn on for Sarah, and she feels her excitement mounting once again. But now is for Amy...

"Lick me, please..." Amy whispers, her voice faint but steady against the rhythmic clicking of the ceiling fan above them. It leaves a cool flush on her faintly perspiring upper body, then on her face as she throws her head back with pleasure and need. Sarah ignores Amy's very naked desire to have a long, feminine tongue inside her puss, preferring to tease, and increase the ultimate rewards for them both.

Her tongue and lips play small melodies across Amy's sensitive labia. The scratching of the soft, wet cotton over her increasingly sensitive clitoris drives spikes of pleasure through Amy's groin, her legs nearly buckling from the jolts of ecstasy. Her hands reflexively go to the back of Sarah's head. Sarah, in her turn, insinuates her fingers farther around Amy's full and round buttocks, to seek out the heat, and moistness, and deep intimacy of her rear opening, the touch of her fingertips leaving trails of fire on Amy's butt. She groans in ecstasy.

"Yes, please....back there, I want it, I want you there..." she moans, close to begging.

Sarah's practiced fingers find Amy's tight anus, her hot, puckered opening so moist with perspiration, her opening so shy, but desirous of invasion by her lover. Sarah dips the index finger of her right hand in the slick pool of Amy's fluid collecting inside her panties, the creamy, musky and randy essence of Amy's desire coating Sarah's finger easily.

Sarah brings the dripping, long finger back to Amy's quivering rear opening, as her sphincter alternates between tightly closed and shyly open, her anus reflecting her deep desires. "Fuck me," she sighs to no one in particular. Sarah's slim finger presses inward into the hot, tight puckered opening, slipping slowly but smoothly into Amy's eager anus. She sighs with pleasure above Sarah, and arches her back, streams of joy running down her legs. She pushes her pussy forward, and Sarah bites down gently on Amy's mound, her bush, swollen and wet labia, sparking clitoris. Her cum is unexpected, a small squeak escaping her as lightning shoots through her hot, pearlescent button. Sarah's mouth, in conjunction with her thrilling finger deep inside Amy's ass, has pushed Amy over the edge.

Amy rips her panties down, over and off her hips, her need to bare her sweet pussy for Sarah's loving mouth and tongue too strong to put off. The sheer panties get hung up on Sarah's hands at her smooth, round ass, but Sarah takes pity, and withdraws first her left hand which has been cupping the moist inside of Amy's full, left butt cheek, then returning her hand to Amy's luscious bottom over the panties. She slowly withdraws her long index finger from Amy's tight hole, but immediately replaces that moist, now-wrinkled finger with the index finger of her left hand, slowly inserting the cool digit deep inside her favorite orifice.

With Sarah's right hand withdrawn from under Amy's panties, there's nothing to hold them up other than the friction of Amy's slim hips. A slight shake of her hips, and Amy is free of the last confining scrap of cloth. The cloth whispers as it slides down her smooth thighs and calves, to puddle at her feet. Sarah presses forward, any excuses for not impaling Amy's creamy furrow now demolished.

Her tongue laps at Amy's swollen labia. Sarah can feel the beat of Amy's strong, loving heart through the blood-swollen lips. Amy is lost in the frenzy of her need and love for Sarah. "Unnhh, fuck me, Sarah," she moans, even as Sarah's finger fucks in and out of Amy's sweet, tight bottom simultaneous with her long, rough tongue spearing deeply into Amy's molten cavern, and her lips fasten on Amy's swollen clit.

Amy shrieks with pleasure and falls forward, cumming, pushing Sarah onto her back. Their legs scissor, their pussies meld, hot wetness meeting moist heat. Amy tries to push the overwhelming pleasure filling her pussy back into Sarah beneath her, grinding her pussy deep, deep, deep, so hard hard hard clits touching lips kissing wetnesses mixing bodies dissolving into one another complete total love mouths meeting orgasms together complete one...together. Amy's last words before losing her mind completely are, "I love you Sarah, I love you so much." Their eyes are locked on each other's as they orgasm together.

The fierceness of their lovemaking surprises them both. They drift off to sleep, and their sleep seems to last forever, until they wake in each other's arms in the morning light.

As the two lie together in their bed the next morning, Sarah whispers, "Please, be careful." Her expression is troubled, but she has no idea what is causing her concern, only that something feels... wrong. She almost decides to cancel Katy's doctor's appointment so that they can go with Amy, but the little girl can't afford to miss this medical checkup. Amy kisses Sarah gently.

"I'm certain it won't take long. We'll get it settled one way or another," Amy says comfortingly.

After finishing up her coffee, as Sarah is dressing Katy, Amy heads back to the beach to see what she can find, both ghostly and material. The traffic is much heavier, the usual Monday business traffic, but since she's at the tail end of the rush hour, really closer to noon, it's not overly irritating. Soon, she arrives at the beach, but has to park at the far end of the lot, since the Port Lavaca Parks Department has apparently decided to resurface the portion of the lot closest to the beach. Amy wonders if they'll clean it, or simply tar over the filthy baby diaper.

Getting out of her car, she squints, the sky being cloudless, and the sun appears unusually bright. Sunbeams raining down around her, Amy walks around the closed part of the lot. She sees the diaper and the debris of the 6-pack, and shakes her head at the sloppy work habits of the maintenance crew.

She passes by the life guard shack and the male lifeguard in his wooden elevated chair with its peeling white paint, and nods at the lifeguard as he desultorily scratches at his arm. A cute teenaged girl in a bikini is standing by the chair. It's clear that they had been conversing. She looks upset, swinging her long brown hair angrily, as he looks bored. Perhaps a lover's disagreement?

Amy says, "Hi, remember me? I'm the lady looking for that Barbie watch?"

He smiles at her, and says, "Yes ma'am, I do. Unfortunately, nobody's turned it in yet, sorry." He flicks at the paint on the armrest, and frowns momentarily, then scratches his arm again.

Amy smiles back and says, "Well, thanks for keeping an eye out, anyway," nods at the girl, and heads straight over to the sand under the dock, avoiding the colorful blankets and sand chairs sprawled around the beach, and squints into the darkness in the shadows. "Golly, I've got to get some sunglasses," she thinks to herself. "I'll go blind before I'm 40 otherwise."

Approaching the dank shadows, she listens for the voice from yesterday, while keeping an eye on the sand before her. As she gets about 10 feet into the shade of the dock, she hears the voice again, "...light...watch...the light...". Simultaneously, she sees a bright color in the sand near the water. Walking over to it, she sees the pink plastic band of a child's watch sticking out of the ground. She bends over, and feels a small thrill of triumph as it reveals itself to be Katy's Barbie Wonderland watch.

She holds it up, shaking the sand off it, and in a victory gesture she remembers from one of the "Rocky" movies, grins, yelling "The watch!" and holds it up over her head. As she looks up at the planks of the dock over her head, she sees the thin daylight suddenly blaze through the cracks, as though the planks were dissolving under the rays of light. "The light-" she begins saying, in a wondering voice...

...the wave front of the supernova of Earth's sun, an uncountable number of charged electrons, x-rays, gamma rays and other detritus of a suicidal star, after an eight and one-half minute start, the distance from the sun to the earth at the speed of light, strikes the bored young male lifeguard and his upset girlfriend an infinitesimal instant before it strikes Amy and the billions of other humans on the side of the Earth facing the sun, possibly due to some quirk of quantum physics, but the difference is really irrelevant to those involved. In any case, neither of the couple at the lifeguard chair utters a sound, they have no chance at all to utter a sound, but instead explode into two instantaneously disintegrating clouds of radioactive smoke, quickly mixing with the smoke of everything else around them.

No one comments, of course, since by the time their two bodies have dissolved, everyone else within a radius of 8,000 miles or so have too, or nearly so. Amy's family, Sarah and Katy, on their way through Victoria's traffic to see Katy's doctor, are gone at about that same time, give or take a nanosecond, and their demise is similar, painless, but quite, quite final, as is the destruction of the traffic and buildings around them. Katy's medical tests are rendered moot, Sarah's concern for her daughter's health is no longer a relevancy, and the firmly forged links of the Thorn family chain are shattered.

All of the houses, and buildings of all kinds on earth simply become large puffs of smoke, followed by even larger clouds of debris as the ground and the Earth itself dissolve under the immeasurable power and energy of a star releasing the fuel that should have lasted a billion years, in less than one second.

No clock is really necessary to time the event, and it's certain that Katy's Barbie Wonderland watch, so recently rescued, could not handle the task as Amy herself dissolves in an elemental firestorm, along with everything she had ever known or dreamed...or loved. Blasted into oblivion, the last thoughts in her disintegrating brain cells are of Sarah and Katy, and to a lesser extent, a wondrously bright light and a cheap plastic Barbie watch. The dissolution of the rest of the planet, that part experiencing a sleepy night, follows in a longer, more perceptible period, but still consumes only a few milliseconds.

Along with Amy, Sarah, and Katy, all of mankind's known and unknown achievements, every significant or small, unnoticed gesture, every work of art and every piece of junk, every meaningful and meaningless glance from one human being to another, all love and all hate, all of the long, endless parade of life on earth, are lost within seconds into irradiated dust, rapidly dispersing through the emptiness of Earth's former orbital path.

With no present and no future in which to seek shelter from the horror, Amy's dying consciousness experiences one last, tortured yet beautiful vision, that of Sarah's face surrounded by the color of smoky ash, as it had been on their bed on the last nights they made love. With a cry audible to no one and no thing, not even herself, Amy's suddenly tortured soul escapes into the only reality it can find, that of her immediate past. With her soul go the frayed dreams of her life and her loves, her hopes and her expectations. In this present there are only blasted, stripped atoms in a vacant space where Earth once existed.

Slipping into the past as a thin refuge of memory, Amy Thorn's spirit is left to, however briefly, speak of The Watch and The Light, to any passerby under a dock on the foamy shore of the Gulf of Mexico, by a small town in Texas, located in the already forgotten past of a now vanished Earth.

Perhaps that spirit hopes to encounter a young mother walking with her daughter, hand in hand along that foamy strand, under that dock somewhere in that forgotten past.

Perhaps she will....