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Sea Salt

By: rambleon



Cynthia looked quietly out the car window as the neighborhood changed. First the University signs ceased to appear, then the old professors' houses and tree-lined streets gave way to more commercial byways, and then finally to a divided road which could have been Anywhere U.S.A., with its Boston Market and Blockbuster and the rest of franchise America, and she had to admit that, yes, the process of leaving her youngest son at college way indeed in the past. She knew this was a threshold moment, had been preparing for it, but now she just felt sort of empty and leaden. And, if she thought harder, uncertain about the future. 

Her husband John, driving, looked over and raised an eyebrow. "You knew this was coming. You OK?"

But the tone wasn't warm, it was self-satisfied. 'Oh, so he's made his peace with emptying the nest, but I haven't...' she thought. And then she thought, 'I just don't know. Just us?' 

Half-turning, she said, "It's OK. When do you think we'll be back." And she used the same cool tone, or tried to. 

Redbook has hadn't mentioned the husband not changing at all might be the hardest part. Belke had said something about this, but it was hard after so many years of marriage to see other people's husbands in her own. 'Perhaps we all grow into islands with age,' she thought. 

"I guess we don't have to go home. It is Saturday, and while I do have some work. . . hey, we're free. What shall we do, Miss Free-as-a-Bird?" said John.

And it was again in a tone of chipper spontaneity lacquered over indifference and isolation. 'He's just saying that because I asked to go home,' she thought.

"I do have that volunteering dinner tonight," Cynthia said, with a look that added, 'We're not free and don't play with me like a child.'

Then as Washington Road led out to Route 95, John staying on and drove past the onramp. 

"You missed the . . ." And then she saw the set smile on his lips, and she knew the sparring continued. 

"I have always wanted to see the Maryland coast," he said.

On they drove, eventually to Maitland State Park. It was a sweltering September day and Cynthia was wearing her white Ann Taylor blouse and a knee-cut beige silk skirt. Hardly beach-wear. But John stopped and got out. The sky was darkening and a thundershower rumbled afar off. John left his shoes in the car. Cynthia paused and pursed her lips. 

"Oh, OK. Let's just go out to the jetty and back. It's not far and I think it's gonna rain soon anyways," he said. And so she got out, and just then the wind picked up, a hot wind off the shore. The beachgoers were heading in as it was approaching five o'clock and the weather was clearly turning foul. 

"I think he'll be happy there." 

"Did you see his room? I thought ours were small. But they put six kins in there. It's too much, really."

"I recall always being a free bedroom short in college," John said, and smiled at the ocean. Somehow the walk was lightening the mood, and the chill. Certainly the chill. Cynthia was now sweating visibly under her arms and down her back and at the backs of her legs. 'How could people stand Maryland?' And just then she felt the raindrop land large and wet on her arm. 

"It's raining," she said, turning her head. And though they were only a few hundred yards from the car, she saw she wouldn't make it without ruining the silk skirt. A sheet of rain was moving fast across the estuary towards the cars, and them. She saw a fat man trying to run with a large cooler. She tugged at John and he turned slowly with an impish grin. Then the thunder cracked so crisply that both of them started, and then they began to run. 

After ten steps, Cynthia lost her shoe, went back a step, tried to put it on hopping on one foot, and fell onto her knee, ripping the skirt slit audibly. John ran back. "I'll carry 'em. C'mon!" and as they turned again, the storm was on them. It is amazing how much water a Mid-Atlantic late afternoon thunderstorm can dump. And after running another thirty yards the thunder boomed exactly overhead and a searing bolt of lightening pulsed into the small hill behind the ranger station. Close. They stopped and looked at each other, panting and smiling in the warm rain. 

"I'm soaked," said John, lifting his arms. The surf was pounding and the rain hissed on the ocean's surface. 

"This is kind of fun," said Cynthia. And off she ran, away from the cars. John turned and saw it, a double lifeguard tower. And he ran pell-mell behind her. Cynthia had hiked her skirts up and was running wildly across the sand. 

'God bless bicycling,' thought John, 'that she still has those legs. Those goddamn legs. Wow, and I've been too long on a college campus!' And he had, seeing the University girls in their low-riders and half shirts and having the urge to go, himself, out to the frats again. 

Cynthia was under the tower, in a small three-walled room made by the frame. It opened onto the ocean and with the wind coming from land, afforded a perfect view and was protected from the rain. Her chest was heaving and John darted in next to her and gave her a squeeze and let go. But that squeeze felt good so he did it again and kissed her. 

"I love storms," she said. "Can you believe this?" And her eyes were wide. That kiss had felt good and she looked at John, just shirt plastered to his body and his thin slacks gripping his thighs and she thought 'Wow.' His hair was tousled, wet and forward in his eyes. Somehow the shelter felt warmer. 

John saw Cynthia's breasts clearly beneath the blouse. A $400 wet t-shirt contest and she was the winner, with her nipples, large as trench coat buttons, standing hard and perfect. He hugged her again and this time she returned the kiss, hard, the water still running from their hair down their faces. And he put a hand up to her breast. 'God, how did she keep these so fine all these years,' he thought.

She felt John unbuttoning her shirt and all of a sudden, she wanted him. Desperately. Maybe it was the minutes of watching the soccer guys at the University jogging back to the gym that had started her blood running hot earlier in the day. Maybe the break of the heat, or the electricity of the storm. Whatever the reason, she was on fire. So was he. John pulled her down and sat on the trauma board lying in the sand. It was perfect. Her shirt was open in an instant and God did her firm nipple feel good in his mouth. God did his warm mouth feel good massaging her nipple, kneading it. His hand was rubbing her groin now, the hard bone in front, then mashing the labia together, back and forth. She was wet, everywhere. 

She pushed up and made him kneel. She unzipped his pants and popped the top button and out he sprang, surprised and surprising, always surprising a bit even after a lifetime of lovemaking on this very cock. And what a cock it was, too. She placed a hand around him, kissed the head and then looked up at him. She always smiled at the sight of his silver public hairs. No grey on his head, but a few silvers here. He was not happy with that and she loved to tease but not now. Now she wanted him and plunged him all the way back in her throat, and held it, for one gag reflex, and the backed off with a small cough and started sucking and stroking. 

And then it was a blur. He was pushing her back and then in her, full to the hilt of his shovel-handle cock, and Cynthia rolled her eyes back and dug her heels into the back of his legs and thrust up, again, again, again, banging gloriously as the rain stormed and waves crashed and she swore the lightening flashed as she came while fucking him, which was rare, but oh how rare this was! Then John shuddered and came and collapsed, panting, with a little spasm in his legs. The rain began to lessen.

They would find plenty to do, she thought deliciously, rolling around in that great empty nest. They still had it.

Sea, Sand, and Sex



My parents own a beach hut on the unspoilt Suffolk coast and I stay there for a couple of days at the end of each summer. I make any minor repairs that need doing, and paint it inside and out. Finally I board up the windows, and make it secure for the winter. 

I always look forward to this time as it's very therapeutic. The beach hut is right at the end of the row, ten minutes walk from hustle and bustle of the pier. During the day the beach is full of families enjoying the sea and sand, but by early evening everyone's gone home, and I'm left alone with just the sound of the sea lapping against the shore. It's so peaceful, and I have everything I need. A small camping style cooker, a bench with a foam mattress on it large enough for two to sleep on, a car battery which supplies enough current to run a low wattage bulb and a radio. Among the cooking implements the most important is the cork screw, as I always take a case of red wine with me.

I enjoy the tranquillity, and the time by myself. I'm lucky to have a loving wife and two great kids, but it's so good to get away from it all, just for a little while.

This year I had to replace a window, and was pleased how easy the job had been. I cooked up a tin of stew and decadently ate it straight from the pan with a hunk of wholemeal bread, all washed down with a couple glasses of red wine. I was sitting just outside the beach hut on a folding chair watching the sea slowly retreat with the tide. Although the sun had long since disappeared, the full moon and stars cast enough light to see quite clearly. I lit a cigarette, poured another glass and stretched and relaxed.

I suddenly noticed a dark form on the shoreline, but couldn't quite make out what it was. I got out of the chair, went down the three steps onto the beach and walked towards it. The sea often throws up bits of driftwood, or more usually rubbish dumped overboard from ships in The North Sea. The gentle waves were lapping around, trying to pull it into the sea, but with the tide going out, they hadn't the power. 

As I approached I realised it was a body, and I ran the last few yards dreading what I was going to find. It was a woman, and thank God she was alive, she was trying to sit upright, but the effort was too much for her, and she slumped over, head first into the waves. I put my hands under her arms and dragged her out of the water. She was cold and barely conscious. I draped my arms and legs around her hoping that my body warmth would slowly seep into her.. After a few moments her eyes opened, and she whispered "Thank you." 

I slipped my T-shirt off, put it over her shoulders and said " Wait here, I'll be right back," and ran to the beach hut. 

I pulled a blanket from the cupboard and went back to her and placed the blanket over her legs and body. She trembled with the cold, she was dressed only in bra and knickers. Again I held her tight. After a few minutes I helped her stand, and walked her to the beach hut. I sat her down on the bench. I turned on the small gas heater, and closed the doors. Using both rings of the cooker to provide more heat, I boiled some soup. I offered her the soup and some bread, which she eagerly devoured.

As she ate her food I had time to sit back and appraise her, she wasn't slim, but wasn't fat either. She had long dark brown hair, and brown eyes. She had a pretty face, sort of Spanish looking, and her skin was olive coloured. She finished eating, and moved her legs up so she was lying on the bench, supporting her head with her hand, and looking straight at me. 

Her brown eyes were bright and sparkling. 

"Thank you." she said again, this time her voice stronger. "You've been so kind to me. Do you mind if I remove these?" she said pointing to her underwear.

"They are really quite damp and uncomfortable." And without waiting for an answer she slipped them off. I should have averted my eyes, but she did this so matter of factly, I hadn't time to think of what was right or wrong, I just stared. Her body was Rubenesque, wonderful and full, and in all the right places.

"Can I have some wine?" she asked, and I poured a glass and handed it to her as I gazed at the fascinating woman.

"What happened to you?" I asked, "Did you get shipwrecked or something?" 

She giggled, "No nothing like that. I was with my partner, well.... not really my partner. We spent the whole day on the beach, getting each other sexually aroused. It was so exciting, trying to do it to each other, surrounded by so many people. Then his bloody wife phoned his mobile, and he got up and went, just like that! Bastard! So I opened the other bottle of wine, drank the lot, was so pissed that I walked into the sea, and must have blacked out. Then you found me."

"Glad I did, you could of drowned." I replied.

"Would you just come here and fuck me?" she said.

I was so taken by surprise. I didn't know what to say, she just kept looking at me, and ran her fingers over her nipples until they became erect. She then licked her finger and traced it down her body towards her perfectly trimmed brown pubic hair. She circled around her clit, then gently started to stroke it.

"Take your clothes off for me." she said in a silky voice. 

I clumsily stood up, fumbled with my jeans, finally removed them and pulled my T-shirt off. 

"Stop there!" she said. 

And there I was standing in my pants, in front of this gorgeous woman who was playing with her self. It didn't make sense, it was like a dream sequence.

"I need to know if you are big enough for me?" She said. "Keep your pants on, and massage your cock through them." 

I was already semi- erect, and did as I was told. She parted her cunt lips and inserted two fingers up as far as she could get them. With a soft moan she withdrew her fingers, and in the dim light I could see they were dripping wet with her juices. She held them up towards me.

"Come here and lick them."

I moved towards her fingers and inserted one into my mouth, and then the other, and sucked the juices off them. It was that hot horny honey taste, mixed with a slight flavour of the sea. She pulled the fingers out of my mouth, shoved four of them in to her cunt, and then they were all over my face, soaking me with her wetness. 

"Go back to the corner." she commanded, "And keep playing with your cock."

I was fully erect now, and was bulging out of my pants, it was getting quite uncomfortable so I asked if I could take them off, with a slight nod of her head she agreed. 

"Not bad." She said, "It's big, and fat too, looks like it could satisfy me. I want you to stand there and wank yourself slowly, but you are not to come." 

She fiddled around in the storage cupboard and brought out a banana. She sat up with her back to the wall and lifted her feet onto the bench and spread her legs. Once again she put her fingers in herself , then wiped the juice all over the banana. Grasping it with two hands she plunged it into her cunt and started thrusting in and out. I stopped myself just in time from coming, and watched fascinated as the thrusts got quicker and more urgent. Her eyes were closed now and she was groaning louder and louder. With a scream she orgasmed, but didn't stop, and very shortly came again. Her body glistened with a light covering of perspiration. She shuddered, put her feet back down and returned her gaze to me, well my cock really. 

"Is that pre-cum I see on the end of your superb cock?" she asked, "Bring it over to me." and I walked towards her. 

She grabbed my balls and squeezed, then very tightly moved her fingers up and down my shaft forcing more pre-cum to the top. She then bent down and rubbed the top of my cock over one nipple, then the other one, and then sat back. I could see my wetness on her nipples. 

"Get on your knees and suck it off me." she said. 

I crouched down and tasted that familiar taste that all men know, but never admit to. As I licked off the last of my pre-cum from her nipples she stood up and parted her legs slightly, so her pubic hair was in line with my mouth. She pulled my head into her pussy, and I eagerly pushed my tongue into her wet slit. She held me there for a couple of minutes and started to shake as I put two fingers into her. As she came again she pushed my head down between her thighs, straddling my neck, and I could feel the juices splashing over the back of my head, until I was sopping wet.

She sat down on the bench, and slowly peeled the banana. She held her pussy lips open with one hand, and inserted the fruit until just the last bit showed. 

"Eat!" she commanded, and I bent forward and started to eat. 

Using her virginal muscles she pushed the banana out inch by inch until I'd devoured the lot.

She stood up and gestured for me to lie on the bench. She wriggled between my legs and started stroking my balls and throbbing cock. She used the palms of both her hands firmly up and down my shaft. Every now and again she moistened her hands from her still dripping pussy. Her beautiful breasts gently caressed my inner thighs. Each time I felt I couldn't hold back any longer she would suddenly encircle the base of my cock and squeeze hard preventing me from shooting my load. My balls were aching with the build-up. 

"Now it's big enough for me!" she said.

I had to admit I'd never known it to be so hard and engorged. She turned around and straddled me, lowering her pussy to my mouth, and her lips to my cock. She took me in her mouth as I began to eat her cunt. I could feel her tongue stimulating my cock, and she gave me the slowest blow job ever. I could feel the eruption beginning to start and I tensed my legs and whole body longing for the release. She didn't speed up, just inserted my cock further into her throat. I tried to warn her that I was coming, but she couldn't hear me as she was grinding her pussy into my face. As I pumped spurt after spurt deep into her throat she moved faster, and once again my face was soaked with her ejaculations.

She turned round and sat up, looked at me and smiled as she wiped some cum off her lips, her hand held my still twitching cock. 

"Now we fuck!" she said. 

Breathlessly I said "I won't be able to just yet, you have to give me some time to recover." Although her hand was still massaging my cock, it was now flaccid. 

"No problem." she said, and she stood up and went to the storage cupboard again. 

She came back and sat between my legs grasping my tube of toothpaste in her hands. She unscrewed the cap and sucked toothpaste into her mouth. She went down on me again. Wow! The toothpaste caused a warm and very sensual warm tingling sensation, nearly burning. Within a few seconds I was stiff again.

She turned so her back was towards me and lowered her self on to my rigid cock. Using her hands for support, she pistoned hard up and down. 

"This time we will come together!" she said. 

As I felt that I was about to come I shouted "Now! Fucking come now!" 

She moved faster and faster, and screamed as she came. I could feel her juices cascading over my balls and thighs, and I ejaculated hard deep inside her. She moaned and laid back, I was still inside her, and we cuddled up spoon like. I stroked her hair, and her back, and in that position we fell asleep.

I awoke a few hours later as dawn was beginning to break. That was some dream I thought to myself. I went to put the gas ring on and stood on something on the floor, it was my toothpaste. As I bent to pick it up I noticed a bra and knickers by the door. As the previous nights memories flooded back I realised it was not a dream. I opened the door and looked up and down the deserted beach. She was gone, that fantastic mysterious sex goddess had disappeared, I didn't even know her name. But she left me with an experience I will never forget.

(c) Tim Parker 11th September 2005