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I don’t wanna brag but … being a surfer and beach-slash-ocean girl I’m really good at holding my breath underwater. I’ve had lots and lots of practice. So acting like a submarine doing a deep dive should really be a breeze for me. Right? Usually, you betcha. Not this time. Not with a crazed psycho Britch using every bit of strength in her admittedly most def sexy bod trying to keep my head submerged no matter how much I flail and thrash until … until … gulp … the bubbles escaping from my mouth grow less and less and it’s … double gulp … bye bye Lauren.
My thrashing is getting weaker and you must sense that because you release my head allowing me to pop my head up out of the water with a long coughing gasp as I suck in a deep breath of glorious air. Maybe your conscience kicked in and like the Grinch’s heart yours grew just enough to show compassion … or you realized that you would most likely end up with a new orange wardrobe and three hots and a cot.
You grab my ankles and pull me out of the lagoon onto the sand. I’m too weak and hurting and still gasping for air to even resist. I doubt I woulda been able to make it to dry land without your “help”. I don’t or can’t even try to stop you when you grab my drenched blonde locks and roughly drag me behind you to the walkway. As I crawl behind you I can’t help thinking, I hope nobody sees me being dogwalked like this!
We get to the walkway and you waste no time flinging me down and rolling me on my back. Then you drop yourself down with a wet splat on my heaving boobs straddling me … “Ughhh” I look up at you with hate and fear in my eyes as you taunt me. Oh yeah, I remember what happened last time. But it won’t happen this time! I have to fight the panic and stay calm. It ain’t easy. I start to thrash and buck as much as I can in my weak state, trying not to gas myself out … as you press your firm peach of an ass down pancaking my poor boobs making it even harder to breathe …
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