beach, being alive, couple, creative writing, Erotica, escape, fiction, inspiration, life, love, lovers, relationships, romance, sex, Spanking, spilled ink, summer, thoughts, travel, voyeuristic, Writing
There are many types of weather here, a lot of different winds; the wind becomes familiar like old friends baring portent. A light summer sea breeze is my favourite with the aroma of sweet flowers laden with salt and seaweed. It catches the fabric of my skirts, warm, enticing, caressing my skin, promising magic. When it strokes across my uncovered labia it is divine, enlivening and I shine from within like a mischievous beacon of lust and desire. Can you fail to see that light in my eyes?
He never does.
There is also something enticing about a man who, although courteous and attentive never misses an opportunity to let you know how attractive he finds you. That slow hungry smile, the hand in the small of your back, the slow slip to cup your rounded cheek and a squeeze before his hand leaves you, the slight caress, seemingly accidental, to your breast, together with sizzling eye contact.
The combination of his teasing, whilst enjoying an evening walk on the beach and the breeze seductively whipping my skirt around my thighs and I was buzzing with lust. Of course, it was one of those slow caresses that left him in no doubt that I’d chosen to leave my underwear at home. Worse still, I’d not told him. Well, where is the fun in that? I knew he knew by the feral growl he uttered as his hand left my ass cheek.
‘You should have said.’ Was all he whispered in my ear and yet I felt the familiar burn and a gush sensation as he moved away from me, my stomach flipped with anticipation for the reckoning that would surely come.
Sometimes, lady luck is with me all the way, I tell him he’s my lucky charm, the colour in my light, the promise of darkness. But my luck on the way home, of many people loitering and socialising in the warm evening air only added to his growing irritation as he couldn’t find a nook to explore me. As soon as we moved through the garden gate my luck ran out, his hands were up my skirt ripping my dress over my head, leaving me exposed to the breeze and the neighbours, should they be looking. I didn’t have time to check as I was pushed face down onto the patio table, legs pushed apart impatiently and then… and then nothing, for a few tense moments nothing but the breeze against my wetness.
I didn’t dare peek, how could I? And then fingers, pulling my hair from its band, softly smoothing it away from my face and another whisper of breath against my ear.
‘Do not make a sound until I say. Do not move an inch.’ His hand trailed down my back to the base of my spine and barely touching me, circled my hip, under my ass, his thumb pulled my cheek away exposing me further and he blew lightly across my labia, warmer than the breeze. I feel the tip of his tongue, a tantalising flick across my clitoris, pushing through my folds, briefly sinking inside me with a groan but then moving up across my perineum, flicking across my ass.
‘You smell incredible, my mischievous lady.’ I bite back a retort and do not move a muscle. ‘but I think you are too hot my sweetness.’ The lightness of his tone does nothing to hide the threat, or the promise. My jaw clenches, teeth grind and I suck in air as the cold sluice of the garden hose pressures against my tenderest parts, the water jet finding my clit as my fist finds my mouth, I groan and bite down on my hand as I realise my error.
‘That was more than an inch, sunshine.’ He laughs as the flat of his hand smacks across my wet ass. ‘Oh, you sparkle so pretty, all wet and pink my sweet.’ His hand smacks my other cheek, the water pressure on my clit is excruciatingly good, too good… fingers slip inside me, a thumb finds my ass, the combined sensation creating turmoil, coiling inside, a vortex demanding release.
Suddenly all sensation is withdrawn, I lie still across the table, panting, throbbing, not daring to move. His hands pull at my cheeks once again and slowly pull them apart, the heat from his tongue searing where the water had chilled, lapping and exploring, his nails biting my skin. His fingers replace his tongue, sinking, curling against my g spot, thrusting deep, curling again, withdrawn.
Hard and merciless, his cock slams deeply within me, I whimper unable to contain the noise as his girth stretches me.
‘Let me hear you baby!’ he instructs as he slams against me again and again. A feral noise escapes my throat, the cry of passion, the throbbing inside me building again. ‘Touch yourself sweetness, cum hard on my cock!’ my hand slithers between my legs, cold fingers finding my clit and I come in an explosion of convulsing muscles, squeezing and clamping around him. His animalistic growl low and merciless thrusting as his orgasm shudders through him, pulsing his seed deep within me.
Gasping for air, my body convulses from the touch of tender kisses across my back as he withdraws, hot juices cascading down my inner thighs.
‘So sensitive, so sweet.’ He mutters, I stay still, quiet and wait. I hear the water cascade from the hose again, but softer, gently washing away the traces of our coupling. He takes my hand and pulls me into his arms, lips like velvet kiss my forehead and my eyes, find my lips, his tongue seeking inside my mouth, possessing, reassuring. Slowly we make our way to the house, to bed; my dress abandoned on the lawn.
© Juliette Turrell