The WickedWednesday theme is doubt. This story was inspired by a CC-image on Flickr; I’ve included it in the story!
I saw her checking me out. She wanted me, without a doubt.
I saw her hiding behind her sunglasses as I wandered past her on the deserted beach, her desperately hoping not to be caught catching a glimpse of my topless torso.
Of course, I saw her earlier, walking in the lane past my beachside cottage as she talked on the phone. She’d just had an argument with her husband: he’d not been giving her any sex recently and she needed to escape. She sounded ideal: slightly bitter, incredibly horny and intending to spend all day on the beach.
I knew her. Her flowing red hair was sexy, the confidence in her stride more so. Her hips swayed on the summers day, rocking from one side to another as she seductively strode away from my abode.
I watched her bum moving, barely hidden by her tight green shorts. I admired her tanned legs too, toasted golden brown in the delightful weather of the Summer holiday.
I gave her an hour; enough time for the underlying bitterness to disappear and the romantic novel in her hand to have her lust simmering nicely. I had hoped for the remote beach to be deserted and it was, there were no cars in the lay-by opposite. That’s to be expected: nobody ever came to the beach due to it’s remote location, and it is private land.
She said nothing as I walked into the tiny inlet, facing the Sun glistening brightly on the white tops of the waves. She hid her wandering eyes behind her steamy novel, ignoring the burgeoning muscles in my arms, or the chiselled features of my chest.
She licked her lips of course, she squirmed on her towel, but she said nothing. Even as I stretched my muscles a few yards from her, she remained silent.
So I had to pull out the big gun. Although waving my manhood in her face would probably make her call the Police; I had to be subtle. I put my towel on the soft sand and removed my camouflage shorts, kicking off my flip-flops with a gentle flick of my ankle.
Tight white boxer shorts, hugging my figure closely, was all that remained on my body. Her eyes fluttered, staring at that corner of the page of her sex-filled book. But she was watching me, checking out my bulge in my shorts and whimpering inside at what her husband didn’t give her.
But it was on offer.
I knew she wanted it. I could feel the boiling heat in her knickers, the lustful desperation that was burning inside of her. I could sense her overwhelming flood of agony: a torture between staying faithful and ceding to her instinctive desires.
I implored her with a glance of my eyes towards her to give in: give in to her lust, to her desperation and her arousals.
She needed it, and she deserved it; it was criminal negligence to allow any woman to be unsated and her husband has been derelict in his marriage vows. She must punish him; show him that she would not permit dissatisfaction in her bedroom.
But she didn’t seize the opportunity; she battled against her needs. She tried to tear her eyes away from me. Her lips sparkled in the afternoon sun, her throat was dry. Her body flustered and hot as she flapped her book to cool herself down. She was a fighter, trying to stay faithful.
But everyone has a Plan B in life, and this was mine. If my tight white underwear, showing my bulge with subtlety, didn’t do it then I needed my approach to be more blatant. A gentle jog to the break of the waves changed into a dive, falling into the cool water and swimming strongly to the edge of the cove.
The water was refreshing; covering my body with a cool tingle as I swam back towards her. She had barely moved an inch since I arrived on the beach and I imagined her frolicking naked with me in the surf: the soft, red hair flowing behind her as she danced to a carefree tune. I imagined her falling onto me and sliding her mouth down my prick, sucking my cock with wanton abandon. I imagined her begging for sex until I filled her pussy with my manhood and pounded her with desperate fury until I filled her with my cum. And finally I imagined her returning from my family’s private beach to my useless and lazy brother’s house on the hill, my cum dripping from her panties.
My dreaming made me hard in the water; my arousal bringing my cock to an obvious erection as I emerged from the sea, striding along the beach to my towel.
My erection was prominent in my shorts, fabulously see-through and so very blatant. The thick, hard prick was calling to her, calling to her senses and her femininity.
A few suppressed mews and a tremble of her seat was enough to have me at her side. “Are you OK, love?” She panted and nodded, remaining silent, as I wrapped my hands at the base of her shirt. “You look like you are hyperventilating a little. I’m just going to remove this to give you some air. OK?”
Her eyes stared at me, glanced at the tumescent prick in my wet shorts as I pulled her top over her head, liberating her breasts to the warm Sun. She gulped in anticipation as I sat behind her, pulling her onto my chest and whispering complements into her ear. “You have a lovely body, so very sexy.”
I pressed the hardness of my cock into her back, allowing the slick, wet cotton to slide over her bare skin. My hands rubbed her luscious body and I kissed the back of her neck, softly murmuring in her ear. Her resolve cracked as my hands flitted over her bosom, catching her nipple with the lightest of dainty touches. A relieved sigh was the trigger for my fumbling hands to move onto the catch of her waistband. Fingers swirled over her crack, pressing gently as she fell into complete submission.
She was mine to play with; the gentle rubbing of her slit and pressing of her nipples made her a quivering mess of sexuality, begging me to plunder her pussy.
My wet underwear joined the golden sand in seconds as she frantically shed her clothes in haste: she wanted to fuck on the beach, lying on the golden softness as I held her ankles aloft with just one thing on my mind.
Her eyes were begging me; her expression one of desperation. Her pussy sucked the blunt head of my cock: no resistance, no hesitation, just slick moistness from a wonderful woman.
The first thrust had her groaning; she was climaxing by the tenth. The hypersexual bride unsated by my asexual brother was relieving her sexual tensions on the end of my cock. But the intensity of the union was a mind-fuck; I closed my eyes and squeezed my muscles to intensify my orgasm as much as possible, but I was coming too quickly.
But she does that. The quivering vibrations of her pussy against the intruding cock was always heavenly but that day her suppressed arousal was bringing me to new heights. With a few furiously intense thrusts, I came, releasing my semen into her and panting loudly.
She smiled as we parted, cum dripping obscenely from her pussy. Just as I wanted.
“Where’s Amy?” She asked, thinking about my wife.
“We had a row,” I admitted. “She didn’t want sex. So she went off to have a sulk. Over by the hill, she likes it up there.”
“My husband’ll be trying to bother her,” she replied with a giggle. “Would you like a game of chess, Amy? Or let me show you my vintage Monopoly set, Amy. Poor woman.”
“Let him,” I muttered. “Who cares about them? Did I ever show you the caves?” She shook her head. “Well, there’s a legend that says any maiden who goes into this particular cave is ravished in the dark by an unknown man.” Her eyes twinkled.
“Yep, straight up. No doubt about it.”
“Then I better go and see them then.”
Image from Flickr and used under a CC-license.