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Rolling

By: Ashson



I was strolling along the beach one day. I had nothing to do and plenty of time in which to not do it and that was the way I liked it. It was a warm sunny day and there was quite a crowd, noisy and having fun.

This particular beach was quite wide, merging with a stretch of parkland, with kid's play areas and lots of grass, neatly trimmed. There was also quite a bit of undulating land within the parks, which kids always enjoy.

Have you ever watched kids rolling down a hill? Down they go, rolling and shrieking in delicious fright, only to go scrambling back up to do it again. There were a bunch of kids doing that, some of them surely in their early teens, but reverting to childhood for a bit of fun. Suggest to them that they might like to roll down a hill at the beach and you'd be met with looks of the utmost horror. Such a thing would be totally beneath their dignity. But leave them alone and not notice what they were doing and away they'd go. 

I watched the kids for a short while, amused at their antics and enjoying the fact that they were having fun. Then I continued on my way. I was walking along the fine line that divided beach from park. To my right, just past the dunes of sand, was the beach and the families enjoying the day at the beach. To my right was a long sloping hill and on the other side of that hill the park people, with kids enjoying the play areas and rolling down the hills. And in my immediate vicinity? No-one. I had managed to be alone in a crowd. Not a bad effort.

It didn't stay that way for long. A figure popped up over the crest of the hill to my right. From what I could see, and having excellent eyesight I saw a great deal, the person was a quite pretty young woman who at first glance I'd say was about twenty. She had a very nice figure, fetchingly displayed in a bikini.

I had to revise my estimate of her age sharply downwards. She stood there for a few moments, surveying the long slope of the hill, running all the way down to the sand. Then she cast a look behind her to see if anyone was watching her. Apparently not as she dropped to the ground, angling herself across the slope of the hill and started rolling.

She came tumbling down, rolling round and round, letting out little squeaks of fright and thrill, heading towards the bottom.

"This," was my immediate thought, "is not going to end well."

There were two little problems that I could see. The hill was reasonably long so the young woman was going to pick up a bit of speed. That was fine if she came rolling onto the sand, which would slow her down. The other problem was that the hill ended rather abruptly, with a three foot drop onto the sand. She was going to shoot off the bottom of the hill and take flight.

I hurried to get to where she would terminate her journey but got there just a fraction late. She shot off the end of the hill and found that she didn't have wings. What she did have was gravity. She didn't even have time to scream before she crashed down into the sand and lay there, gasping for breath.

I hurried up and crouched down beside her.

"Ouch," I said to her. "Just lie still for a moment."

I ran my hands over her arms and legs, just giving her a quick check out. I didn't think she'd hurt herself, just slightly winded and shocked.

"When I saw you at the top of the hill I thought you were about twenty," I informed her. "As you came barrelling down the hill I guessed maybe fifteen. Which guess was closer?"

She'd stopped gasping and seemed to be breathing normally. She gave me an irritated look.

"I'm twenty," she admitted. "I was just having a little fun."

"I noticed," I said dryly. "Too bad about the sudden stop. Not that you could tell it was there. Hurting anywhere?"

She shook her head, which relieved me somewhat. It would have been a pain if she had hurt herself, especially for her. I'd have just dialled for help. As it was. . . 

I reached for the bottom half of her bikini and started drawing them down. My action was so unexpected that I actually had them down off her bottom before she reacted.

"What are you doing?" she squealed, reaching down to grab at them and prevent them going even further down.

"Ah, I would have thought it was obvious," I pointed out. "I was removing your bikini."

"I can see that," she snapped, trying to pull them back up. "Let go. Why are you trying to remove my bikini?"

"It struck me as a fine idea to peel off your bikini and ravish you," I explained. "We're reasonably private here so I thought, why not?"

"Why not? Because I don't want you to for a start."

"Um, that's why it's called ravishment. It's against the woman's will."

"Then if it's against my will, why are you trying to do it?"

"It's not against my will," I pointed out, tugging sharply at the bikini and pulling it out of her hands. With that I snatched it far enough down that she couldn't reach it easily.

"Just stop it. Leave me alone or I'll scream."

"Um, you don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because if you scream, people will hear you and someone will come. Probably several someones, especially if you yelled fire. People always run to a fire." 

"Well that's what I want," she stated triumphantly. "You can't go ahead and assault me if other people are here."

"Correct, and that's why you'd be silly to scream."

She blinked and shook her head.

"Your logic went by me so fast I didn't get to take it in," she said. "Please elucidate. And give me back my pants."

"If you scream I will have to depart without ravishing you," I pointed out, finally removing the bikini from her kicking feet and tossing it down next to her. "If I don't ravish you then you miss out on the fun of being ravished at the beach and you won't have a great anecdote with which to shock your friends. Can't you just see yourself with a group of your friends? Let me tell you about the time I was ravished at a public beach by a leather-clad bikie, surrounded by a crowd of people. I was dragged in to the bushes and gagged while he had his wicked way with me. I was never so frightened in my life."

I grinned at her. 

"It would be a great story and think of all the embellishments you could give it."

"You're not a leather-clad bikie, and to get the story I'd also have to get the ravishment."

My hand dropped upon her mons and I started rubbing.

"I can ride a bike and I have a leather jacket. As for the ravishment, well, yes, that's rather central to the story."

"Take your hand off me. Do you really think I'm the sort of person who would let a stranger have sex with me?"

I sort of did as requested. I moved my hand away from her mons. It still didn't please her as I just shifted it to the top of her bikini. I hooked a finger under the bottom of it and dragged it up and over her breasts, letting them pop into view.

"I'm not asking you to let me have sex with you. Ravishment, remember. You're perfectly entitled to fight me off. You may even do so successfully, leaving me to retire, stage left, twirling my moustache and muttering, curses, foiled again. All I'm suggesting is you don't scream and get outside help. What could be fairer than that?"

I cupped a breast, running a thumb over her nipple.

"You're mad," she said, and she was speaking most sincerely.

I slipped my hand down to her mons again, rubbing it firmly and pushing my hand between her legs. She clamped her legs closed.

"Stop it," she snapped. "I'm not going to let you."

I turned and grabbed her ankle, pulling them wide. I love leverage. It gives you such an unfair advantage. I eased between her thighs, preventing her legs from closing again. This time when my hand went exploring it found what it was looking for.

She'd finally made up her mind to fight me off. She swung at me, claws showing. I jerked my face away from those lethal objects and put some serious effort into catching her wrists. With that done I held her hands up over her head while I explored the bounty before me. 

Despite a lot of wriggling I managed to slowly stoke the boilers. I could feel the warmth in her mound and my fingers were slippery with the moisture of her body. Her nipples were moist and erect, courtesy of some loving attention from my mouth, and I'm quite sure that her breasts had swelled slightly. 

Not wanting to let her go while I stood and took down my trousers I had to sort of fumble with them, getting them undone and pushing them down, all the time having to keep a squirming female under control. Finally I was free and ready to progress.

Another little hitch arose at that point. She took one look at what I was offering and shook her head.

"Oh, no," she said. "No, no, no, no, no. I'm going to scream."

"What?" I was justifiably indignant. Screaming at this late stage wasn't fair and she knew it.

"Don't be such a wuss," I snapped. "You can handle this without any problems. It's not that large."

"Says the man who's not getting it stuck in him," she gasped.

"It's just the reluctance making it look larger than it is," I informed her. "You'll be fine."

"The hell it is," she whispered. "It's the size of the thing that makes it look that large because it is that large."

Was I being flattered or insulted? From her tone it was hard to tell. Still, I'm not that large. Perhaps she was used to a boyfriend with a small dick.

"Stop being a baby," I chided her. "Just relax and see what happens."

Being naturally contrary she didn't relax and see what happened. She wriggled and squirmed and I had a hell of a job lining up and gaining that initial entry. After I managed to get the head past her lips she finally flopped down and stared down at where I was joined to her.

I eased in slowly, not wanting to scare her, and she just watched, breathing hard, poised and ready to scream, I think. I inched in, slowly but surely gaining admission, easing my way down a passage that was hot and wet and ready for me, yielding softly under my slowly thrusting hardness.

When I was about halfway in she seemed to just hold her breath, waiting. I kept on going, pushing firmly forward, sinking deeper and deeper. I finally gave one last push, my groin slapping against hers and she let out the breath she was holding with a whoosh, gasping as she took in fresh air.

She lay there, looking down at where I was buried inside her, and actually looked quite pleased with herself. I was just pleased she hadn't yielded to temptation and screamed.

I started moving, pulling out and returning, not moving very far, just enough action to get her accustomed to me taking her. It only took a few moments and she was moving with me, just small motions as of yet, but they'd build.

She started talking.

"Oh my god, you're really doing this. You're raping me in the middle of the park. There are people everywhere and you've stripped me and are ravishing me. I can't believe this. How can this be happening?"

I was paying my main attention to what I was doing, but I did keep one ear cocked to what she was saying. I was taking longer strokes now and she was handling them with ease. She was also handling them with what I can only describe as a great deal of enthusiasm. And she kept on talking.

"God, that thing is so big. I can barely stand it. How could you do this to me? My friends will never believe that I was brutally attacked while at the beach with people all around. My god, how long will this nightmare last?"

She seemed to be doing her best to bring the nightmare to a successful conclusion. Her legs were wrapped around me as she bounced under me. My hands were fondling her breasts and her hands were tangled in my hair. Just tangled and clutching, thankfully, not pulling.

I kept up the good work, driving in in fine style, setting a rhythm that she was responding to effortlessly. She was finally shutting up, I noticed. Not because she'd run out of insults and complaints, but because she needed the breath for the exercise she was getting. 

Things progressed nicely. I was building up a fair head of steam, my one piston engine performing nicely. From what I could observe the piston also had her engine turning over sweetly. She was bucking and gasping and clinging and silently demanding more.

I was giving her more. As far as I was concerned we'd reached a point where it was brakes off and throttle wide open and let her rip. 

I was pounding towards a grand finale when she got a shocked look on her face. 

"I'm going to scream," she said. "I can't help it. I'm going to scream."

Her voice was rising rapidly as she spoke and I moved fast, covering her mouth with my own. Our tongues duelled and then she suddenly seemed to jerk and she screamed, the noise fortunately muffled by our kiss. 

She sank back down onto the sand, shaking, little tremors running through her. Me, I'd climaxed even while she was screaming, giving her something extra to scream about.

I hung around for a short while, wanting to make sure she'd recovered from the shock of her fall. She finally sat up and glared at me.

"If I'd seen that thing at the start I'd have screamed, believe you me. Just how big is that damned thing?"

"I don't know," I protested. "I've never bothered to measure it. Why should I? It's just part of me. I've always assumed about average."

She gave me a dubious look while she pulled her bikini back on. 

"Do you ravish many women on these beaches?" She seemed genuinely curious.

"Ah, no, not really," I admitted. "Only the ones who roll down the hill and land at my feet. I look at them as a gift from the gods and it would be a sin not to accept a god given gift." 

She gave me a look and shook her head. Then she looked at the hill and sighed.

"The trouble with rolling down a hill is that you have to turn around and climb back up it."

"True. Still, it will explain why you're so sticky and sweaty," I observed. 

She gave me another look, sighed again and headed up the hill. I watched her go for a few moments and then turned and went on my way. I still had a lot of nothing to do.

Rolling a Creampie



I decided to go to the local Novelty store one afternoon. I was looking around for something to liven up the bedroom antics.

I came across a pair of dice with sexy things for you to do if you happen to roll them. I figured that this was spicy, yet tame.

I bought them and figured I'd break them out, tonight. When I got home, my wife was in the yard by the pool. It was hot outside and she was covered with sweat. It was turning me on.

She was in her bathing suit, looking quite hot also. I stood and admired her before going back and announcing my presence. She had her beautiful eyes closed. Her long blond hair was in a ponytail. She has a beautiful body with long legs and a great ass.

As I looked at her I thanked the heavens that she was with me. I started to get an erection. She rolled on her stomach, just then, and I got a look at her beautiful ass It was perfect. She likes to exercise and it showed.

I opened the sliders and walked back to her. I told her "Hello" so as not to startle her. She looked up at me and smiled.

"Where you been, I missed you?" she asked.

I told her I got a little surprise for later. She looked up and saw the tent in my shorts. 

"You have a surprise for me? Are you hiding it in there?" she asked. "Let me see?"

She sat up and then had me sit next to her. She turned around and pulled down my zipper. My cock sprung out.

"You know, lying out here has me thirsty. I could use a cocktail."

I felt her mouth engulf me. I was pretty horny from walking around the novelty store. When I saw my wife in her bikini; it just made matters worse. I started to thrust a little.

She swirled her tongue around and around the head of my cock. I was as hard as steel and her sucking had me ready to blow in minutes. I tried to slow her down with my hands but her head was bobbing up and down like a piston.

She reached her hand inside my shorts and massaged my nuts and I knew that was it. I felt my balls filling up and was almost ready to unload when we heard a noise.

"Matt, Paula are you back there?" It was my neighbor. My wife released my cock and spun around. I grabbed her towel and covered up. It seemed that my neighbor was going away on vacation and Paula went over to speak to her about watching their home while they were away.

I limped in the house. I was so close. I simply waited there for her. When she came in saw the state I was in, she started to laugh. 

"Poor baby. Now show me my surprise."

I had almost forgotten. I pulled out the dice. She picked them up and looked amused. I asked her if she wanted to play a little now.

"You bet, I am so hot from sucking you. You are so funny with those dice. How do you play?"

Well you roll the dice and do whatever it says. One die is a command and the other is a body part. If you roll the die with "Free Turn", you get another turn.

"How does it end?"

I told her when we have had the same number of turns. We agree on how many turns, except if you happen to roll the "Free Turn". That's an extra. You're also not allowed to cum during the game.

"Should I shower first? I'm all sweaty from lying out."

I told her she looked and smelled sexy and not to bother.

So we decided to play. We agreed to 3 rolls, each. She rolled the dice first.

"It says, "Suck-Toes". You're lucky I got a pedicure yesterday." She laughed and extender her foot to me.

I loved her feet, so this was a great way to begin. I kneeled down and grasped her foot. I brought it to my face. It smelled like coconuts from her tanning lotion. I popped her big toe in my mouth and tasted the saltiness from her sweat; she had been sunbathing before this. 

"That feels so good. Take your time. I like this game already" she said as she enjoyed herself.

As I sucked her toes, I thought about finally getting to pop inside her. I was so close before that this was torture to me. My cock was throbbing.

I started to get up after sucking her foot but she pushed me back down and put her other foot in my face.

"A deal is a deal, now suck!" she laughed. "Don't you like my pretty toes? They painted red and this one has a toe ring, too."

I did love this but my cock was getting uncomfortable in my shorts. I finished the other foot and sat down next to her.

"That felt so good. I like this game. Now it's your turn"

I rolled. It said for her to "Rub-Crotch". She bent down in front of me and pulled out my penis. It was hard as a rock and covered in juices. She wrapped her hand around my cock and started to slowly pump me.

"Does this feel good? I bet it does" she said in a deep voice. 

She stroked and pumped me. I was ready to pop and she knew it. I threw my head back and finally told her to stop.

She let go and smiled. Then she rolled her dice. It said to "Lick-Ass".

"Ooh, you've never done that for me. Go slow, so I can enjoy it."

She pulled her bathing suit off completely. She was magnificent. She went over to the arm of the couch and bent over it. Her long hair was on her back and she was looking back at me, waiting.

I kneeled down again and brought my face to her ass. I smelled her pussy. It was literally dripping. I longed to suck it. I extended my tongue. I found her cute little asshole and began rimming her. She reached back and pulled her cheeks apart.

"Oh that feels great. I never knew you were so dirty. Stick your tongue all the way in now."

I did as she asked and she cried out in pleasure. I kept this up until she pushed me away telling me she couldn't take anymore.

It was my turn. I rolled a "Rub-Ass". I felt cheated. That was until she started massaging me. It gave me a little break from thinking about cumming and I was able to relax.

It was finally her last roll. She rolled a "Free Turn". She just rolled again. It said, "Lick-Crotch". This girl should be in Vegas. She looked pleased and didn't say a word. She just lied down and spread her legs.

I moved in. She smelled wonderful. When I tasted her, it was a mix of her juices and sweat. I remembered again that she had been lying out in the sun for quite awhile. The smell and taste turned me on even more.

"I'm so wet. Your tongue on my toes and then on my ass have me so excited. Go slow. Suck up my juices. I was lying out in the sun just thinking of you and then you came home with a wonderful surprise."

I could see she was almost ready to cum. She was grinding her pussy on my face and had a death grip on my head. I pulled away.

"What are you doing? I almost came?" she cried.

I told her that a rule was a rule and no one was allowed to cum. 

"Okay, remember that, Mr. Rule Enforcer" she said.

My last roll was "Kiss-Mouth". That was fine, because I was ready to fuck her. We kissed long and hard. Then I told her to lie down. I told her the game was over and I couldn't wait to fuck.

I slid inside her pussy. My dick had been aching all day. She had me near the brink several times. I slowly plunged in and out. She was arching her back and digging her nails in me. I fucked her for as long as I could. 

When I came, it felt like a volcanic eruption. I shot load after load of cum into her pussy. 

She said, "Fill me up. Your cum is so hot. Let it all out."

After some relaxing, I pulled out. I felt so much better. That was the load of the century. I felt bad that Paula hadn't cum. I asked her why she hadn't.

"I wasn't allowed to. I still have one more roll" she said with an evil grin. "Remember, I rolled a Free Turn!"

She was right. I had completely forgotten. 

"You never know what's next, with my luck. I've been rolling pretty darn well."

She picked up the dice and rolled. It said "Lick-Crotch".

"I bet your wishing now that you hadn't cum yet or so much? Do you have any idea how much you just came? I can feel it inside me. Time for your creampie dessert!" she said laughing.

If she thought that anything was going to happen, she was crazy. I told her that I'd do her later.

"Let's see. You buy the dice. You don't follow the rules and have an orgasm before the game is over. I don't get to cum? I don't think so. Either you finish the game or we're going to have some problems. Besides, I swallow your cum all the time. It's about time you got to see what I'm eating."

I simply resigned myself to the inevitability. I told her I was just kidding.

"Good, now lie on your back. I always cum when you eat me like that."

I lied down. She crawled over to me and swung her leg over my head. Her pussy was pink and the lips were puffy. There were shiny juices on the outside. She then lowered herself down on my mouth.

"That's good. Now suck me a little and make me feel good."

I stuck my tongue in her and swirled it around. I tasted something salty and knew what it was. It seemed that there wasn't much in her. She was riding my face and feeling good. I was glad that I decided to go through with it. She was going to cum and this wasn't so bad.

"Suck hard; I want you to taste it."

I did as she said. I sucked real hard and almost choked. It seems that I had shot way up inside her. My mouth filled up and I had no where to go with it.

"Wow that looks like a gallon of cum in your mouth right now. Swallow it. It tastes good, I promise."

I swallowed it down. It was so hot and thick as it slid down my throat. It was a little bitter and salty too. Most of all, it was a lot.

"You look so cute swallowing that cum. Now you know how good you taste. They say recycling is good for the environment. I just never knew how good it felt too."

She was having a good time at my expense. So I thought I'd show her who was in control. I started to suck on her clit. I ran my tongue all over it and eased a finger into her ass. She went wild.

"I'm going to cum so good. That feels so fucking good. Don't you stop. Here it cums. Now suck me, oh, suck........!"

Her pussy started contracting on my mouth. A flood of hot liquid poured out of her. It tasted of both of us. I swallowed as fast as I could. It was so hot and tangy. She finally stopped cumming and just sat on my face. She was perfectly still.

"I love you so much. We don't need these dice though. Everything we did today was something I've always wanted to do with you. Now I know that you like it too."

She moved to the side. I sat up and kissed her. She kissed me back and must have tasted the mix of juices still in my mouth.

I asked her how she felt about me licking her out after we had sex.

"It was wonderful. It was us. I think you proved to me that you would do anything to make me happy. Did you think it was bad?"

I told her that it was pretty good. Now that I had done it, I never will have to worry about cumming to soon. As I spoke to her, I started to recover my erection and she saw this. She smiled and pushed me back down. 

She said, "My favorite number is sixty nine."

She swung around and lowered her beautiful pussy to my mouth. Just then I felt her hot breath and her magical mouth on me. As I slowly tongued her pussy and sucked the remnants of our last cum into my mouth, I realized how lucky I was to have her as my wife. 



Rolling for a Six



He came home early from work, having thought long and hard about his plans for this particular summer evening for some time. He stopped off and picked up a few necessities on the short drive home.

On entering their empty house, he skipped snacking in the kitchen and went straight upstairs to the master bedroom. The bedroom was sensuously decorated, with French boudoir style having been the order of the day, not his choice, hers, but he liked it.

He began by placing the small embossed red dice in the centre of the bed, resting squarely on the white satin sheets. He then proceeded to strategically place numerous candles in every free space he could find, after lighting each one the room was romantically lit with flicker, it sparkled and twinkled as the hundreds of candles danced in unison from a slow flowing summer breeze 

She would be home soon. He undressed, hung up his well cut suit in the wardrobe, placed his polished black shoes on the rack, wearing only tight black designer boxer shorts he took residency on his side of the bed, and waited.

She pulled up in the drive in her flash black BMW, she had, as always a busy day, as any high powered executive would, she was dressed impeccably, fashion was her forte with a penchant for designer shoes. She always looked sensational, this evening was no exception. She turned her key in the door, walked through to the kitchen and threw her tanned Hermes bag on the hard oak dining table.

She slipped out of her kitten heels and padded upstairs, on reaching the landing she noticed the bedroom door ever so slightly ajar, revealing a glimmer of light. She slowly opened the bedroom door, her husband greeted her with smile and pulled her on to the king sized bed. 

He explained that this evening they would be playing a game, or more to the point she would be. He placed the small dice in her hand a told her to roll it across the satin bedspread, smiling back at him with a twinkle in her eyes she rolled the dice and landed a one. He said nothing and began to open the small buttons on her fitted blouse, she looked at him curiously, but he continued to remove her clothing all the way down to her black lace underwear. 

He explained to her that a one on the dice would mean she would be fed fresh strawberries and cream as she lay scantily clad on her soft satin sheets. He placed the chilled bowl of cream on the bed side table, and began to tease her with each strawberry, running each juicy red berry lightly over her navel, gradually moving up between her breasts, moving up her slender neck and stopping at her chin, holding the fruit just out of her reach, teasing her repeatedly until she forcefully took a bite, the sumptuous strawberry graced her pouted lips and she savored it.

After she had enjoyed the summer fruits in a manner she hadn't experienced before, it was time to roll the dice once again. She shook the small square die and tossed it willingly in her husband's direction, landing a two.

Going by his rules he told her that a two on the dice meant that she would now enjoy a hot oil massage, she murmured at the thought and threw herself on to her stomach and outstretched her arms. 

He gently straddled her thighs, she sensed his hands before they ever even touched her skin, when they did his touch was soft and the warm oil tingled as he massaged it into her back and shoulders. After some time the pleasurable massage came to an end and he placed the little red dice in her upturned palm.

Relaxed, she allowed the dice to roll from her hand to land a three. He smiled and reached under the pillow to reveal a black satin blind fold, he gracefully placed the loose elastic over her hair and down over her eyes. This was something that was new in their repertoire but as the candle light faded to complete darkness she knew she was going to enjoy it. She lay still, ignored for what felt like ten minutes, he had her practically naked, lying blind folded on the bed, and was making her wait, he knew the anticipation would enthrall her. She couldn't see him or feel him and all her senses tingled. Then they truly began to tingle as she felt the soft edge of a feather grace her thigh, slowly it moved up across her body, feeling the faint touch gave her goose bumps all over. The slight touch of the feather moved up over her belly button and subtly began to encircle her breasts and her pert nipples, she withered with excitement.

The feather stopped at the nape of her neck. He waited a minute to allow her enjoy the exhilaration before he once more placed the dice into her hand. Hidden behind the blindfold, she smiled and threw the dice across the bed, falling of the bed the dice had a soft landing on the plush deep pile carpet, she landed a four.

A four would herald a new experience for her, she had never been tied up before, but as she felt the soft satin ribbon gently bind her wrists above her head, she became flushed as feelings of fantasy flooded her mind and her body. She trusted him wholly but now she felt powerless, she gave in and gave herself up to him. He didn't disappoint, he softly began to kiss her toes, moving slowly across the top of her foot, his sensuous lips reached her thighs and the sensation drove her wild with passion, especially as he moved upwards and ignored her dripping wet vagina, purely and purposely to tease, it worked. His gentle kisses travelled across her navel and her slender stomach, gracing her breasts, tenderly tracing his lips over her nipples and up towards her neck. He delicately embraced her neck with kisses and stopped just below her right ear, whispering it was time, for number five.

The five small gold embossed spots symbolized it was time to increase the palpable passion, once again a long teasing minute passed before she felt her black lace knickers pulled to the side, then nothing, she could sense his hard cock was just inches from her wet lips, but he knew her limits and was using the anticipation to drive her wild. She lay there blind folded, wrists bound, completely at his mercy, then without warning the head of his harden cock rubbed smoothly against her moist lips, moving up until it lightly brushed her throbbing clitoris, then without warning, he pulled back and withdrew his cock, she was exasperated and frustrated but never so turned on, she lay there, waiting. Some moments later his cock entered her fully, the sheer pleasure taking her by surprise. He thrust harder and harder, making her fantastically wet. She knew she was close to an exhilarating orgasm, and so did he. He stopped thrusting just as she was on the brink of cumming all over his thick cock, without a word he withdrew and watched her wriggle with want. Taking her wholly once more he thrust deep inside her and very soon after sensed her climax as she vocally announced the arrival of an astounding orgasm with screams of delight.

She was in awe but also perplexed, she had only reached number five and she had just had the most earth shattering orgasm of her life, how could number six top that. The dice was once more taken from the bed side table and placed in her hand, with a bemused smile she bowled it across the marital bed. Upturned for them both to see, a six.

Reaching under the bed, he pulled out a ornate cardboard box, the contents encased by way of a satin ribbon, tied in a perfect bow. He handed the box to his beautiful wife and kissed her passionately on the lips. After a lasting kiss, he explained how he hadn't been sure if the evenings activities would give her the dizzy heights of pleasure he had hoped, so six was really a back up to ensure she went to bed content, the fact her dizzying heights of pleasure had now been excessively exceeded was secondary. She pulled the ribbon, lifted the lid, inside lay a stunning pair of red soled Christian Louboutin heels.



Rolling in Pine Needles



Drew put-in before Dooley Bridge, his goal being to photograph the length of the river through town, marking its changes as it went from rural to urban to estuarine environments in the space of four miles. Being June and approaching the summer solstice in this northern state, the sky began to lighten before five in the morning. Drew had been up since four, having loaded his kayak onto his Subaru the previous evening. His main goal was to be up before the tourists and their jet skis, and he had provided himself a wide buffer. Most of the tourists were not up for breakfast until around nine. The tides were also fortuitous; he would be going downriver during ebb tide and returning at flow.

Traffic on the highway was almost completely silent, had it not been for the logging trucks going both north and south, a puzzle to Drew. Why would logs cut from forests south of him be transported north, and vice versa? Did the mills accept different diameters of trees? He made a note in his waterproof field notebook to look next time he was up on the highway. Beyond the minimal traffic, Drew listened to the birds in the riparian zone and deeper into the alder and hemlock forest. The robins were awake, as were the Swainson's thrush and Pacific-slope Flycatcher. He paddled quietly, primarily to stay on course, and looked for photo opportunities.

He was not a nature photographer. His composition was passable, but wouldn't win prizes. Instead, he taught biology and ecology at the local community college and used his photos to highlight local flora and fauna, as well as issues facing the county. Right away he started getting pictures of the riparian zone. Shrubs and woody debris provided good cover for juvenile salmonids, and trees shaded the banks in some areas where cattle hadn't trampled it. The shrub story was dominated by Himalayan blackberry, which was not good, being an invasive plant. He took close up shots of the blackberry so that students could learn its distinctive five-leaflet shape, and then backed off the bank for a long shot showing nothing but blackberry from meander to meander.


He enjoyed exploring in the kayak. It sat so low in the river that he felt as if he were part of the river in a way he never had in his canoe. It moved with his hips and he idly wondered if the kayak were causing his hips to roll or whether it was his hips that caused the kayak to rock. It was like an extension of him, or a graceful extra limb. 

Satisfied that he had a good representative sample of the rural area, he powered along the river, developing a satisfying burn in his shoulders and arms. He was slender, fit and young looking; his light hair had not yet started to gray, and despite his years outdoors, his face did not look weather-beaten or even much lined.

In the residential area south of town, which tended to contain short-term rentals and thus tourists, he slowed down again to take pictures of storm sewer pipes and fertilized lawns, and shortly after that, he arrived downtown. Here there was no shading of the banks, and concrete and wooden boardwalks indicated that the city valued human enjoyment of the river over the organisms that depended on the river for their lives. This was no surprise to him, but he wanted to document it for his students in such a way that explained non-hysterically that humans had the ability to make choices, that they didn't have to be unconscious to organisms that had no choice. 

He had to strike such a careful balance of passion and logic with his students. During his college years, he remembered his fellow students willingly swallowing ideology and spouting off about the Vietnam War, Civil Rights, Women's Lib, and so forth. Students today were more cynical, he thought, and possibly apathetic, and didn't appreciate appeals to their emotions.  Perhaps they were overwhelmed in the information age, or maybe the ease of consumerism and increased materialism or readily available internet porn had dulled their passions for abstractions. Or maybe they were overwhelmed by having to work a full-time job in order to pay for school tuition, which in real dollars was far higher than it used to be. Or maybe they were just smarter than his generation was; maybe they were more cautious about expressing their opinions until they had done more research about sensitive topics. He was willing to entertain that thought.

Once past downtown, he entered the residential area north of town, where Ocean View's actual residents lived, and then the river opened up into a sheltered estuary. He was particularly interested in getting shots of all the shore pines that had fallen from the cut bank into the estuary from the south. Several years before he had identified and flagged rows of individual pines so that he could estimate the rate at which the north end of Ocean View was eroding. Depending on the intensity of the winter storm season, he had found that the city was losing about half a foot of sand per year, which was subsequently deposited north of the estuary. The exclusive little village of Stratford was thus gaining at about the same rate. This caused no end of letters to the editor from upset Ocean View property owners. As the geologist at his college always said, with glee, "The ocean will always win!"

He had been on the river for about three hours. The day was clear and beginning to warm up; the past week had been a heat wave with temperatures in the mid-80s. He had some time before the tide turned, and he planned to beach his kayak and eat a picnic breakfast before investigating the encroaching European beach grass on the dunes to the west of Stratford. As he looked for a suitable pullout, he noticed a small dark head bobbing up and down, swimming slowly upriver. A sea lion? Too small. An otter? Wouldn't that be feather in his cap to document the first otter on the north Oregon coast, he thought. He pulled out his binoculars. Not an otter. Human. Female?

He paddled down to meet her.

She was swimming up river, a head-high breaststroke, and she drew even with his kayak and put her slightly blue hand lightly on the bow.

"Hey, Drew! What an unexpected pleasure! What are you doing out here?"

It was Katy Michaels, his ex-wife's teaching partner at the town's middle school.

He smiled back and said, "I was just going to pull out and have some breakfast. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure," she said, "I'm sure my lips are blue. My pack is upriver about another hundred yards. I'm about ready for breakfast." She turned to her side and switched to sidestroke. She kept pace with him.

Katy, according to his ex-wife, was wild. There had been some personality conflicts between them. She was the youngest teacher on staff at twenty-four; his wife, Annette, was his age, which was just over fifty. In Annette's opinion, Katy was nothing but an overgrown pre-adolescent herself, and not mature enough to teach. Annette complained that if Katy were unprepared for a lesson, she'd just take the kids outside and measure the depth of the mud on the creek bank or some other nonsense.

Drew had said, "I don't see anything wrong with measuring the depth of sediments. That's actually valid scientific inquiry. Was she measuring it on a cut bank or a point bar? I'm glad there's a middle school science teacher who's teaching something other than trivia." They were already separated at this point and Annette hadn't talked to him for three days after he had stuck up for young Miss Michaels.

Annette always had something to complain about, and the past year Katy was her favorite topic. The latest and most interesting information about Katy had nothing to do with Annette, but Annette felt it necessary to spread it around as widely as possible: Katy had seduced the second-youngest faculty member, Sandeep, a math teacher and first generation American whose parents had moved here from the Indian subcontinent years ago because of violence between Muslims and Sikhs.

"How did you find that out?" asked Drew, affecting a bored tone of voice to let his ex-wife know that he didn't approve of gossip, without admitting that he was actually interested in Katy's seduction of Sandeep.

"Oh, it's just awful and so unfair," Annette had said. Annette had heard it from Judy, who had heard it from Adina. Adina was the third youngest faculty member and a widow with a six year-old child. Adina was Judy's teaching partner and Judy and Annette were best friends. Before Katy had come to work at the school, "a slow fire" had been building between Adina and Sandeep for about a year and a half, according to Annette who had heard it from Judy.

"How did Judy know?" Drew asked.

"Adina had confided in her!" Annette had retorted indignantly. 

"Some confidant," Drew said and rolled his eyes, something Annette couldn't tell because they were on the phone.

Ignoring the slight to her friend, Annette said, "Well, over spring break, Adina's daughter was staying the night with a friend and so Adina got up early to take a morning walk on the dunes. She was just minding her own business when all of a sudden she stumbles on Katy's little lovenest in the shore pines. There's Katy, naked as a jay bird, her leg flung over Sandeep, both asleep in a pile of sleeping bags. Adina said Katy woke up and invited her to have some hot chocolate right out of her thermos! She had some gall, that's what I say. Adina said Sandeep wouldn't meet her eyes."

"Did Adina stay for hot chocolate?" Drew asked.

"Of course not! I don't know! You ask such stupid questions!"

Drew ended the conversation, although certainly it was at the top of his mind upon meeting Katy now, because it was the last thing he had heard about Katy.

Katy stood up in the shallows and pulled Drew's kayak out of the water with him in it in one smooth tug. She grinned and looked pleased with herself. She was a tall, lanky girl with tightly curled, long, red hair. For swimming, she had separated it into two braids. She looked cold, with goose bumps prickling her fair, freckled skin.

"Do you have dry clothes?" asked Drew, thinking he might offer her his fleece now that it was warm.

"Oh yeah, of course," she said. "I've come down here every day since school let out. I like to go for a swim, then eat breakfast, and then go have a nap under my favorite trees. Then I go mountain biking in the afternoon up on Weyerhaeuser roads. I just love summer."

She was standing in front of him, her board shorts riding her hipbones. Her shorts were wet and dipped so low that were they to dip any further, Drew would have been able to tell the color of her pubic hair, a thought he banished from his mind but then revisited when he considered whether or not she shaved it. He thought not, looking at her bare legs, which were unshaven. Her legs were covered with a fine down that was completely unobtrusive, as light as the hair on her arms. It glinted golden in the bright sunlight.

She turned her back on him and bent to her pack. She pulled out a small blue chamois towel and a neatly folded white cotton t-shirt with a surfing logo and laid those carefully on top as if fastidious about sand. 

Sitting on the sand, Drew began pulling food out of his own pack but watched her surreptitiously. She wrung out her braids and ran the towel over her head, and then without warning tugged off her long sport top, standing bare and running the towel over her torso and arms. Drew glanced up again and admired the musculature of her back, the knobs of her cervical spine, the motion of her shoulder blades. Katy bent down to pick up her t-shirt and Drew caught a glimpse of the generous curve of her breast. He looked down quickly as if searching for something in his pack. Thinking about Sandeep and seeing her so free while outdoors made his thoughts wander to whether or not he would be seducible by her. He could hear Annette scolding him in his head. Katy was hardly older than his students at the community college and he was only about three months officially divorced.

Katy next pulled out a colorful Mayan print, which she wrapped around her hips. It fell beyond her knees. She reached underneath it and removed her board shorts, and then proceeded to use the little blue towel to dry her legs. Satisfied, she carefully readjusted her wrap and sat down.

Drew knew she was wearing neither underwear under her wrap, nor a bra under her shirt. He kept thinking about it.

Interrupting his impure thoughts, Katy said, "What'd you bring? I brought bagels, cream cheese, smoked salmon, onions and hot chocolate. Want some? I am starving."

Drew had brought cinnamon rolls, oranges and coffee in a thermos. They traded food and ate quietly, watching the influx of Caspian Terns. They were gathering in a large flock. The adults were diving for fish for their young.

As they were finishing, the first jet ski of the morning came down the mouth of the river and took a few turns around the bowl of the estuary, putting the flock of Caspian Terns into the air.

"Well," said Katy, brushing off her hands, "That's my cue to leave. What are you doing next?" Over her feet, she began to fasten the velcro on a pair of black, neoprene sandals.

Drew told her about his plans to photograph the dunes and the beach grass.

"Oh, you want to talk about plant succession with your students?" Katy asked.

"Well, both that and the effect of the beach grass on Snowy Plover habitat – things like that."

"Well, cool. We can walk together. I'll show you where I enjoy my mid-morning nap."

"Why do you nap?" Drew asked.

"I like being outside. I mean, I bring a book. I usually fall asleep and wake up in time for lunch, at which point I go home."

Drew picked up his pack, carried the kayak to a point higher on the bank, and tied it to large silvery piece of driftwood.

"You're not worried about your kayak?" Katy asked, following him, her breasts swaying under her t-shirt. Her nipples stood out.

"Nah. I've never had a problem." Drew looked at her feet so as not to look at her breasts.

She turned up into the dunes and he followed. She stepped confidently on the loose dry sand, her hips swaying a little.

The north spit of the estuary was about a half mile long, and its interior was covered in European beach grass, which the Army Corps of Engineers had begun planting in the 1930s and 40s for dune stabilization. It grew more thickly than the American variety, and in seventy-five years had reduced Snowy Plover habitat to very thin strand along the dune and the high tide line; Snowy Plovers were unable to nest in European beach grass. How to manage the beaches for the Snowy Plover was an issue in the county. Drew wanted his students to debate this topic. 

In addition, the dune stabilization project had allowed shore pine to colonize the swale behind the fore dune. Shore pines were native, of course, but their growth on that part of the beach was new. The good citizens of Stratford, fussy about their view out to the ocean, topped the shore pines repeatedly, which prevented them from growing straight and tall. Instead, they took on more of a bushy appearance, and never got to be more than fifteen feet in height.

"I may not be able to continue napping here for much longer," Katy said, breaking the silence of their walk. 

"Why's that?" Drew asked.

"Oh, the snobs here want to cut them all down…They say it's for fire management and to keep the homeless out, but really it's about their view. I wish they'd be honest. Homeless people are not going to congregate where there's no opportunity for day labor and no restaurants for handouts. There's nothing here but houses and a golf course."

"Yep," Drew agreed.

They topped a dune and walked down the other side in the grassy tracks of an access road. Katy kept passing small, dense groves of shore pine. Drew had gotten all the pictures he needed but she seemed to want to show him her "napping" place (seduction place?) so he continued to follow her.

She stopped abruptly and turned around.

"In here," she said, and ducked under a low hanging branch and then between two tightly packed trunks of trees. She continued weaving her way through the outer ring of trees, Drew following, until they were in the center, which was wide and partially open to the sky. The floor was dense and springy with fallen pine needles. Drew could not see the path they had come from.

"I want you," Katy said, and dropped her wrap and then her backpack to the ground. She stood naked from her waist down and pressed her front to Drew as she hugged him. Drew's cock had been at half-mast ever since Katy had whipped off her bathing suit top on the beach, but now it pointed straight to the cloudless sky. Katy stood as tall as he did and he tipped her head back and kissed her mouth.

Don't question, he thought to himself, just do.

He could taste the hot chocolate she'd had with her breakfast on her tongue. He rubbed his palms over her smooth bare butt. She reciprocated, grabbing the material of his nylon shorts and pulling him into the curve of her hips. She gathered his t-shirt and pushed it over his head. Then she knelt in front of him, pulling his shorts to his ankles as she ducked down. She helped him step out of them and then removed his aqua socks. Still kneeling, she took his cock in her mouth, surrounding him with warmth.

Drew placed his hands on her curly red head and felt as if his entire world balanced around the axis of his penis. Her tongue flicked over his glans and into the hole at its tip. She placed her hands on his hips and took his cock as far into the back of her mouth as she could. He pressed the back of her head and rocked his hips in and out.

So close it seemed like they had company, Drew heard two women walking and talking on the path outside the pines. They could not have been more than twelve or fourteen feet away. He stopped dead.

Katy looked up at him and smiled, her lips wet. She was panting.

"We just have to be really quiet," she whispered.

Squatting now, she removed her shirt and lightly rubbed her rounded, perky breasts for him to see.

"I saw you looking on the beach," she accused him. "It turned me on." She rolled a nipple between her thumb and finger. "Yes," she whispered.

He gazed at her; his hypothesis that she wouldn't shave her pubic hair was correct. She was rare redhead in that her pubic hair matched the wild color of the hair on her head, and curled even more tightly.

She shook out her wrap and laid it on the ground. She lay back on it, hooking her hands behind her knees and pulling them up to her chest and then spreading them out, so that her outer labia were pulled apart as well as her ass cheeks. Drew could see from the top of her slit all the way down to her puckered anus. She licked a finger and then began circling it over her clitoris.

"I want you," she said again. "I want you in my pussy. I have condoms and lube in the outer pocket of my pack. Get them."

Drew wasted no time, his cock standing tall once more after recovering from the shock of hearing voices.

He settled in front of her and touched the head of his cock to the door of her pussy. She watched him with wide-open eyes and a half-open mouth, never pausing from the circles she made as she let her legs hang up and open in the air.

Drew leaned in and let the backs of her thighs rest on his pecs, her feet dangling over his shoulders. She stopped playing with her clit and rested on her elbows as he entered her vagina, pushing until he could feel her cervix. He felt his balls slap her ass cheeks. The initial force of his entrance expelled the air from her lungs.

Drew pumped in and out, enjoying the resistance provided by her legs folded up to her abdomen. Her eyes were closed and she was whimpering softly to her own rhythm. Then she stopped. He looked down at her face, and she slid her legs over his arms and pressed her feet to the pine needle floor.




Rolling in Pine Needles



He pulled out, still fully hard, just to concentrate on pleasing her. He kissed the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder, flicking a breast. He could smell the dry pine needles and the estuary on her skin, fresh and pleasantly saline. Slowly he used his mouth to work his way down from her neck to her breasts, where he stayed until her breathing came in short gasps, and then he continued licking and kissing her down her flat stomach to her navel and then to her clitoris. She took it while he used just his tongue and the pressure of his chin to explore from the very top of her slit down to her perineum. She began rolling her hips, slowly at first, and then faster. She was breathing hard but he could tell he had not pushed her over the edge yet. With the greatest discipline, she took a deep breath, held it, and stopped her rolling hips.

Drew looked up, his chin wet with his own saliva and her juices. He drew himself up her body again, and using one hand tapped her flank. No further direction necessary, she rolled over and offered him her pussy from behind.

Again Drew let the tip of his cock push at the entrance of her pussy for a moment before grabbing her hips and pushing himself all the way in. Her head was all the way down resting on her hands. He rocked himself in and out, and she moved with him, apart and together. She reached up with one hand to finger her clit and cup his balls as he worked over her back.

Again he sensed a change in her rhythm. She brought herself up on all fours and looked at him over her shoulders.

"I want you in my ass," she said.

Drew felt his cock twitch and grow even larger. Annette had never let him near her anus. He'd asked once, years before, before their daughters were born, but her reply was so cutting he hadn't even tried to have straight sex with her for some time after that.

"Get the lube," Katy whispered.

Drew obeyed, adding more lube to his cock and in between her ass cheeks. He felt the ridges surrounding the hole like a sunburst with his fingers.

Something in his manner must have expressed hesitation to Katy. She looked at him over her shoulder again. "Have you ever done this?" she asked.

"No," he said, honestly.

"I have. I like it. I wouldn't have asked for it otherwise. It will be ok." She held his gaze with her own. She looked very serious. She looked at his cock, which in his nervousness was not as hard as it had been.

"Take the condom off," she said. "I'll take you in my mouth."

Drew carefully rolled the condom off, placing it to the side of the rumpled Mayan wrap they were kneeling on.

Katy had turned around and put her face in his lap, rubbing his cock all over her cheeks, cupping his balls, fingering the shaft behind his balls where it connected to his perineum. Again she took a long length of him into the back of her mouth. She looked up into his face while bobbing on his cock. Drew got hard again. She grabbed the shaft in her hands and jerked him up and down, licking the tip, and then said, "You are so hot. You make me so wet. Even before today." She covered his penis with her mouth again until he almost couldn't stand it anymore. Katy sensed the precise moment to turn around again and spread her ass for him. He came up behind her; her ass was still slippery with lube and his uncovered cock was wet from her mouth. He pushed at the starburst of her anus and felt the resistance but then felt it give. He pushed the head in, and with Katy practically knocking him backwards as she climbed up his pole, he buried his entire shaft in the tightest hole he had ever had. The pressure was intense and he came in less than a minute, shooting his semen up her colon, stifling his voice against the chance of passersby on the path. Still in her ass, he and Katy sank to the ground. He could feel her hand working her clit, so he rolled the two of them over without separating from her so that he could make her cum himself. He put his fingers on her clit and she came, moaning softly and rocking her hips.

The sun fell on their bodies, warming them, burning fair skin that didn't often see the sun. Drew slipped out of her asshole, but kept his hand cupped around her mound. They fell asleep, pressed together.

Katy woke up, her back to his chest and with his hand between her legs, fingering her softly. She could feel his penis, erect again, pressed against her butt. The shadows of the pines had gone from falling to the west to falling to the east. They had been asleep for some time.

"I don't know why Annette would ever leave someone as talented as you," she said.

"Shh," he said. How to explain to a twenty-four year old that sex wouldn't keep a dead marriage alive especially when his wife had nothing but rebuffs for his sexual advances? Well, no matter. He continued playing with her and felt her wetness increase.

She rolled to face him, and he pushed her onto her back and entered her. Sex with her for a second time was more conventional in style, but in some ways, sweeter. He kissed her on her mouth and gazed into her unlined face and felt that he was rocking his way to paradise. She came and stifled her noises against his shoulder, and he withdrew and came on her stomach.

"You are a wonder," Drew told her. Then added, "I think I missed the change of tides."

Katy offered to drive him and his kayak back to his put-in point.

She was sitting in her truck at the turn-out on the shoulder of the road where he had put his kayak in the river over eight hours before. Her front door was open and her heels were hooked on the floor, her toes hanging out, as she faced him while he tied his kayak to his roof rack. She was wearing the colorful wrap (with no underwear) and the surfer t-shirt (with no bra), her hair tousled and littered with pine needles. Before getting into his car, he turned to look at her. He was wordless.

"Well," she said, and opened the wrap so that she was quite exposed to him. She spread her knees so he could see her ruby red labia. "Anytime you want me to suck your cock, call. I'm here all summer." With that, she flicked her wrap shut, slammed the door, winked and drove off.  



Rolling in the Deep



Please note: This is a long story. These people seemed to create themselves as I wrote about them. To my surprise, I found myself caught up. So if you're looking for a quick fix, I'd advise looking elsewhere. 

This is an entry in the Summer Lovin Story Contest: it's the first time I've submitted something to a contest. The theme just inspired me, and this story was the result. 

For anyone looking for other chapters in ongoing stories I've been publishing, please don't be angry with me. They are coming shortly - they really are. I just had to write this one. I couldn't rest until I finished it. 

I love getting your comments and feedback, so please let me know what you think. 

xxx

Rolling in the Deep

Prevue: Sunday, 2:45AM

He hovered just at the edge of wakefulness, an erection already at half-mast. The violent summer storm outside had mostly dissipated; only the steady percussive rain continued to fall. It made a soothing, rat-tat-tat on the windows and balcony outside. Smiling, he leaned in closer to the velvety warmth of the sleeping woman next to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually slept with a woman. Her back was to him, so he curved his pelvis forward, allowing his stiffening shaft to slip between her thighs. He put his face in her fragrant hair, inhaling deeply. She smelled like fine French lavender and the scent of their sex was still on her. 

Images of their earlier lovemaking filled his mind: her startled, helpless look after that first stolen kiss; the taste and texture when he captured her pert, insanely hard nipples in his mouth; the deep dark honey sound of her moans when she climaxed over and over; her incredible tightness as he finally inserted himself to the hilt into her very hot, wet folds; the wanting and vulnerability in her large, dark eyes as she silently pleaded with him to take her again and again. With one hand, he moved her gorgeous, heavy tresses out of the way so he could slide his lips across the smooth, perfect skin of her shoulders. His other hand moved up her hip, past her slim waist, over her ribcage and finally, gently, cupped her breast. He teased her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She began to stir, and his erection stiffened further. A soft sound escaped her parted lips -- it was part sigh, part moan. She pressed her body back against his, her legs shifting to allow him to move even closer.

Fully awake now and needing more -- needing to again taste her sweet mouth -- he raised himself off of the mattress and pulled her onto her back, covering her body with his own. The look she gave him was completely unguarded, her full lips spread slowly into a sleepy, sexy grin. Tilting her chin up, she offered him her mouth. With a deep growl he took it. He was holding the sides of her face as he kissed her with unrepressed passion. She was gasping in excited surprise, clinging to him as her own passion rose to mirror his. She arched her body upward, grinding against his hardness. He pressed her back into the soft featherbed, his thighs impatiently pushing hers further apart. He ground out through his teeth how much he wanted her -- how much he needed to be inside her. She whispered "yes" over and over as she reached between them to help guide him into her. Once in, he grasped her wrists, pulling her hands up and over her head as he slammed into her. She put her mouth to his chest as she screamed out in mindless pleasure. He filled her so completely -- bringing her to heights she didn't think her body was capable of feeling. She'd never known anything like this. It felt as if she were caught up in an elemental force that was well beyond her control, and she loved it...

Friday, 7:45PM (two days earlier).

Camy didn't mind being alone. She really didn't. It was going to be great -- two whole weeks completely to herself in a beach house on the Cape. It would be heaven, made just for her. She was sure of it.

There would be no need to constantly reassure and placate Bill over the fact that he was getting older. No need to be discomfited over how much attention he paid to the 20-something female lifeguards and waitresses. No need to starve and slave away on the treadmill every day so that Bill wouldn't look askance at her body. No need to worry about coming up with an endless series of entertainments, because he had the attention span of a three-year old. No need to play the part of peacemaker, trying to ignore the fact that their friends and neighbors secretly pitied her. No need to fake orgasms during utterly conventional sex that was far too infrequent and over way, way too fast. 

Bill was no longer her problem. He was no longer her husband. 

The divorce was not even a year old. It had been eight months since it was made official. She had been alone longer if you counted the time it took to settle the divorce, because Bill had been very difficult, refusing to agree in most negotiations. It was even longer if you counted the time they spent apart since Camy discovered his infidelity with a woman who used to be her good friend. So adding all that time into the "BWB", or "Being without Bill" column, it had been one year, six months and about 12 days. 

Yes, it was high time for Camy to shake off all the old habits. High time that she start creating new patterns and new memories. High time she gear her life to her needs and tastes. Time she start building a rhythm around her newfound freedom. This year's summer vacation was as good a time as any.

Her best friend Amanda had planned on coming along so they could spend this vacation together. Amanda, a single career woman also in her early 40s, has been her friend for nearly two decades and was very supportive during the divorce. They'd traveled together a couple of times during the last few years for short wine festival weekends and spa breaks, but this was supposed to be their great summer adventure. 

They selected the rather grand house when planning to share the expenses, but then Amanda had a big project come up at work and needed to change her schedule. She offered to contact the owner and move the start date of the lease to reschedule the whole trip. Camy considered it briefly, but then decided to be bold. For once in her life, she would vacation alone. It was extravagant, but she could afford it (just). It was a chance to rediscover and reinvent herself. 

So here she was, driving along Shore Road, heading to the house that would be hers for the next two weeks. There were more properties on the left side, across the road from the beach, but the ocean side of the route tracked the rocky edge of the Sound, so houses on the beach side were few and far between. As she rounded a bend, a stonewall on her right gradually grew taller until it entirely obscured the view of the sea from the road. This wall eventually gave way to a tall, beautifully manicured Boxwood hedge. The navigation device in her rental car intoned that she had arrived at her destination, on the right. Camy checked the street number on an ornate sign at the entrance, then turned right into a gated opening set between two high hedges. She traveled along a pebbled driveway flanked by stunning blue hydrangea bushes for about a hundred yards. Braking, she regarded the massive clapboard and stone house at the end of the drive. It was a lot bigger than she realized. She felt an excited thrill run down her spine. How marvelous. Camy felt decadent -- a feeling with which she was decidedly unaccustomed. It caused a genuinely sensual tingling -- as if she was suddenly very aware of her own body. 

Quickly opening the lock box as the realtor's email instructed, she pulled out the large set of keys and let herself in. Camy was breathless. The house was wonderful. Once through the welcoming foyer and past a pair of curving wooden staircases, the house opened up into a massive great room with abnormally high ceilings and a fieldstone fireplace. Its entire east wall was made of glass -- French doors and great arched windows stretched the full width of the house. She gazed out, mesmerized, at the grey-blue water of Nantucket Sound and the bright blue sky above. Her mouth silently formed the word "oh!" as she looked on in wonder. 

On the other side of all these windows was a wide, graciously furnished wooden deck. In the middle of the deck, a few steps brought you down to a sandy path flanked by thickets of beach rose and tall, waving grasses. The path culminated at the cliff's edge, where a set of wooden steps led down to the beach. In the far distance, a small white sailboat was slicing through the waves. Seagulls hovered aloft, wings spread, in the steady breezes blowing above the cliff.

Camy giggled like a girl. She made quick work of bringing her things in from the car. She'd stopped for groceries and wine on the way, so she stowed the perishables away in the gourmet kitchen before touring the rest of the house. Grasping the bottle of champagne she'd splurged on, she tucked it into the freezer so it would chill faster. She'd open that as soon as she unpacked, she decided. Twenty minutes or so should do it.

She methodically made her way around, acquainting herself with her temporary home. The house was very old but kept in perfect condition and tastefully appointed. It was a high Victorian-era house that had been painstakingly updated in keeping with its origins. She was enchanted. There was a laundry room and an elegant Powder Room off of the kitchen. Just off the foyer to the right, there was a small library that sported wall-to-wall bookshelves packed with leather bound and more contemporary hard cover books. It had a small fireplace that was faced by a pair of big, distressed leather wing chairs. Camy ran a hand lovingly across some of the books, delighted to see that she'd have plenty to read while there -- one of her great passions, as well as her profession. She was a book editor, and a talented one, at that. Her mother used to say that it was because she was more comfortable observing life than living it, a mean thing to say, for sure, but not entirely wrong. 

The room on the left side of the foyer was a small, formal parlor -- the kind of reception room that would have been de rigueur in an old Victorian such as this. Its walls were covered in a charming navy Toile wallpaper with draperies and furniture upholstered to match. 

Making her way up the curving staircase, Camy took a moment at the top to admire the pattern of the parquet tiles on the foyer floor below: it was a compass rose created by different shades of oak. How intricate and lovely, she thought. Who would bother to create something so rare and fine these days? She wondered. The carved bannister felt warm and smooth under her hands. She sighed as she realized that this house was actually full of love. It seemed to wash over her.

The Master Bedroom suite was on the second floor. It included its own fireplace and a full balcony that hung out over the beach. This would be her room. It was perfect. She actually needed to use the little set of steps at its side to climb up onto the bed. It was a king sized four-poster with a dramatic silk tester. She flopped down on the mattress, loving the way it seemed to envelope her, the mattress firm but topped with a feather bed that was embracing in its softness. 

Camy imagined how this bed would feel if she were making love on it. How it would softly cradle her from below as a lover thrust into her from above. She felt sexy little chills run from the top of her head, to her neck, back and on down. Stretching back into it, her hands moved over the coverlet, its silky embroidery feeling wonderful under her sensitive fingers. She sighed contentedly. Now if she only had the lover, she thought wistfully... blushing a little at the idea of sleeping with someone new. No one besides Bill and her doctor had seen her naked for over a decade.

People had tried to fix her up with "eligible" men after the divorce. The blind dates -- there had been three such attempts -- had all been unsuccessful. One man had been the oily, "player" type who dyed his hair and wore men's cologne. He talked non-stop about money. He tried to grope her under the table during the crème brulée - his hot meaty fingers fumbling under her skirt trying to reach her panties. Camy "accidentally" knocked over her water glass, dousing the front of his trousers. While he was in the men's room trying to dry off, she paid the check and escaped. He never called again, much to her relief.

The second man had been so freshly wounded from his own divorce that he talked nonstop the entire night about his ex-wife. She finally went to the ladies room and called Amanda, getting her to call her on her mobile and fake a work emergency so she could leave before dessert. Camy thought he looked relieved when she made her excuses.

The last was a bit different. It had been with a handsome IT executive named Adam, who unfortunately turned out to be fifteen years her junior -- somewhere around 28. He had been smart, amusing, and easy to talk to. But Camy knew that he was in a completely different stage of life than she was. Plus, she couldn't shake the feeling that the other restaurant patrons were staring, wondering why he was out on a date with his mom. 

In the taxi after dinner, while she was describing what she liked about Bach, he'd suddenly leaned over and kissed her. His lips felt so nice -- soft but strong. He was a good kisser. She kissed him back. He cupped her face with his hand, and his kisses deepened and turned rather passionate. Camy felt a rush of heat that started in the place between her legs and spread up her torso to her neck. His mouth pushed hers open and his tongue explored inside. She felt her body stir awake, her nipples hardening into needy little diamonds, her sexy new lace panties flooded with moisture. She liked it and it scared the shit out of her. When he moved closer and his hand moved down her neck, past her collarbone to cup one full breast, she panicked. Hastily exiting the cab still several blocks from her apartment, she ran home and went to bed alone. During the night, she'd had a full-on sex dream, waking up as she climaxed. She tugged up her nightgown and slipped a finger into her wet folds, marveling that she'd had an orgasm with no physical contact whatsoever. 

It must have been the taboo of being with a much younger man, she decided, and probably also the total absence of sex for such a long time. But taking things any further with Adam would be impossible. Sooner or later, she reasoned, she'd stumble into unfortunate lighting and Adam would decide that the 15 years really mattered. Clearly, this young man simply had the oh-so-trendy cougar fetish. She was no Mrs. Robinson. She ignored his repeated calls and text messages, and he eventually gave up. 

Camy begged her friends to stop setting her up on dates, and they reluctantly agreed. That had been two months ago, and she hadn't tried to date anyone else since. Amanda suggested that Camy try online dating -- but she couldn't bring herself to actually post a profile. It all just felt too desperate. Maybe she just wasn't ready. Or maybe her window for finding a real romance had closed. 

Shaking off this line of thought, Camy rose to her feet and opened the double French doors to the balcony, stepping past a pair of elegant white wrought iron chairs to lean her arms on the railing. The fresh salty breeze blew her hair around her face. From this vantage point, she could see up and down the beach for miles. The nearest house was up the beach about a quarter of a mile away. It, too, appeared to be a similarly styled Victorian, but was easily twice as large. The stretch of beach down to the south seemed to go on for at least a mile, but was flanked by large jagged rocks leading up to a sea wall and finally the road she'd taken here. This was an isolated spot -- no doubt. Camy felt herself grow moist with exhilaration. She was frankly amazed that her surroundings and her independence prompted this sexual response. Amazed and thrilled.

It made her feel like singing -- something she hadn't done since college. 

She looked around. It was the hour approaching sunset. The sun had started to paint the sky pink and orange. There were no people around for at least a mile. 

No -- wait, correction, she thought. Camy spied a man and his dog up the beach near the other large Victorian. She watched for a moment as the man threw what appeared to be a stick, and the large Golden Lab ran joyously into the surf to retrieve it, returning excitedly to its master. They repeated the action several times, the man running along the sand as he played boyishly with the dog. The sound of an excited bark reached her across the sand from time to time. She smiled at the uncomplicated happiness shown by the pair. Maybe she should get a dog, Camy mused. 

They were way too far away to hear her, but her natural reticence kicked in and she hummed, instead of singing the Nina Simone song rolling around in her head. Turning back inside, she paused at the door of the Master Bath -- grinning salaciously at the enormous claw foot bathtub. A luxurious bubble bath would be on the agenda later that night, for sure. She was happy she had the foresight to buy a few candles at the store. The melody of "Feeling Good" began to echo through the house as Camy continued to look around and acquaint herself. 

"Birds flying high, you know how I feel.

Sun in the sky, you know how I feel.

Breeze just driftin' on by, you know how I feel.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life

For me... And I'm feeling good...."

Some thirty minutes later, Camy retrieved the champagne from the freezer, tore off the foil and braced herself as she popped the cork. Such a happy sound! Filling a tall flute she'd pulled from a china cabinet, she waited for the initial bubbles to subside before topping it off. Smiling, she stood on her left foot as she rubbed her bare right leg against her left. Her moist labia pressed into each other as the top of her right foot caressed her left calf. 

Upstairs in the bedroom, when she dropped her suitcases in the large walk-in closet, Camy had spontaneously kicked off her shoes, yanking off her hose and shrugging out of her now thoroughly wet panties. She didn't bother digging out a fresh pair -- she decided to go Commando for once. It felt incredible, and after all, there was no one to see it. She also impatiently pulled off the cardigan that she'd worn over her halter dress. Since she was already bra-less because of the halter, she was naked under her light summer dress. 

Camy's tongue darted out to run over her upper lip. Her mouth watered a little in anticipation of the delicious sting of the champagne. Letting her fingers slide down the perspiring length of the flute, she lifted the glass to her lips, closing her eyes. Millions of miniscule bubbles were bursting, sending their sharp perfume into her nose. The edge of the glass rested on her lower lip as the cold, frothing liquid rushed into her mouth, flaring almost electrically around her tongue. She swallowed, gasping as the alcohol and bubbles created a cold burn down her throat. Her eyes watered a tiny bit as she emitted a soft "mmm" sound. Unconsciously, she ran her free hand down the front of her throat until it came to rest on her breastbone, just above her heart. Her erect nipple pressed into her forearm. 

Spinning on the cool marble tile on the pads of her feet, Camy looked out at the Sound. The sky was now shot through with crimson, orange and pink. The sun burned like a liquid golden disc as it moved toward the horizon. The big fluffy clouds were tipped with color. She opened one of the French doors and walked out to the edge of the deck. 

The wind whipped her dress back and lifted her hair. The rush of cool air blowing between her thighs only seemed to further excite her overheated pussy. Camy wanted to shout, she felt so good. It was as if she were awakening from a deep sleep. She drained her glass, liking the tingle of the champagne flowing freely down her throat, and put the flute down on a nearby side table. Then she lightly skipped down the few steps to the sandy path and walked out to the top of the cliff stairs. There were over a dozen steps down to the beach below. It was a secluded stretch of soft sand. At the high tide mark, the fringe was littered with small shells, pebbles and bits of drying seaweed. The beach was half-moon shaped, bordered to the north and south by long stone jetties that reached out into the Sound. There weren't big waves in this body of water, typically, but all the larger ripples sent white foam in the air where they broke on the rocks. A few seagulls stood in the wet sand, looking out to sea as the waves ebbed and flowed onto the beach. The tide seemed to be going out. A gull hovering in the air nearby let out a reverberating cry that, to Camy's ears, sounded joyous. She found herself laughing with delight; it was a deep, throaty laugh that unfurled from her diaphragm. She stretched her arms wide as if she would embrace the scene before her. Her hair and dress fluttered behind her in the steady wind.




Rolling in The Deep



Beneath the abandoned underground parking lot that has become, ironically, the XHouse there is another underground. It's a migratory station along the pathways for darker perversities that are constantly on the move, always "traveling elsewhere". Beneath the pseudo-raves, the gyrating lights, the hallucinatory ambiguities of party – other things go down. Go down deep.

Of course, they prefer the shadow and the dark. The chilling indigo of night underground – pierced only dimly by starlight and moonlight – emits a kind of white noise whisper and hiss, the rising and falling sighs and moans of the pleasuring that echos through the ruined hallways and byways and alleys of this deepness.

The bizarre and nude merge more obscenely below than the wildest fetish fashion of above. XHouse is the flirtatious edge; The Deep is a bottomless abyss.

Neophytes and virgin clubbers from above fall through the cracks sometimes. Sometimes are lured by their own dark urges or seduced by shadow masters and mistresses of magic power to take the stairs, climb down a hole, get deeper.

The voyeurs in the shadows – not even eyes revealed – take up the scent of the new and wet, the erect flesh, the salivating mouth like the incense of foreplay. Leering and invisible, they fondle themselves watching the descent.

The new are aware; do not care. Their raw sexuality is their exhibit to self love; fetish on parade. Take me, fuck me, dump me, fuck you! is obviously tattooed across their skin in symbol and ritual scarring. They are prepared for the immortal and monstrous in their casual passion. Sex and trans are words in their brief vocabularies. "Shit happens" and "life" are synonyms.

And yet...

Fucking the punk, the goth, the emo, the beatnik, the hippie, the eternal One, the slave girl and the Princess...romance and intimacy sprout unexpected.

That yearning for the more comes out in their eyes. Higher, lower, deeper, further, they just want you to make love to them...more. 

For a being with Hell between its thighs, it's not easy to resist that yearning and innocence. The naive imaginings of what the dark and deep is, to them, is romantic; romance of shadow and blindness. Like the heathen gods, if it's a mortal fuck, they burst into flames.

Bursting their arteries on meth and their brain functions with E, the Xhouse clubbers stamp their feet to noise those under them never hear. The forgotten audience; the never were nor known.

Like a bazaar, the weird byway maze of The Deep knows sex sells and how to sell it. Succubus-Incubus cons at double the prices for the same demon. Thrifty up-the-ass-with-a-hot-poker booths on the cheap. Live nude souls. Monster giant cocks and fairy pussies. All Magic, All Sex, All Eternity. Nothing is real but your next climax. Everyone knows; everyone sells it.

Pockets full of credit, veins full of blood, the Xhouse drifter descends lower – level to level – the incense of the just fucked a mist in the air. Inhale it: salt, sour, old, pungent, earthy, wetness. Dripping off your skin, it's so thick in the air. Like the juice of Mother Earth herself. It stings in the lungs and sets a fire between your thighs the wanderer believed was ashen. Arousal!

Zombies, jaded nipples erect once more and ache for the feel of lips and tongue and teeth. The deeper the breath – so deeply now – the more aroused by the scent of it; the slight burning of nostrils as they flare to suck in more and more; that chilling feel of the darkness and The Deep taking control: breath, heart, skin, surrendering to the tidal wave of erotic overload – and only steps along the path. So much further to go.

Tripping now and easier, the Xhouse nomad plies fingertips along the rows of cock heads – taut and multicolored – each glistening with a drop of precum atop the slit – each drop licked off by a pink tongued shiny oiled demon with impossible sex parts. A huckstering hulking nude with an enormous set of male and female genitalia offers a bisexual threesome with his twin sister. And suddenly – silence – stillness...

The shock wave roar of a cavernous female climax deafened The Deep. The world reeled and parts of it crumbled. Again.

"Oh, fuck! It's her again!" cried each denizen in turn. In their mind. Never aloud. 

The newly arrived, the explorer from above, the neglected or stalked – the newbie from up there – wipes blood from her split lip and crawls painfully into a hissing pool of shadow in the darkness. She tastes her own salt, licks the wounded mouth. She likes the taste now. It's not blood, it's ink, darkness, blackness, blindness. Blindness where they say love is.

Her pussy was so wet and hot she felt diseased; scaled beyond want to NEED. The need to be made love to; taken, possessed, owned, and cherished. Her thoughts radiated out like a nova. The darkness in The Deep sighed with hunger for her. Surrounding her with obscene whispers of pleasure beyond dream or nightmare. Surrounding her with the promise of caress and grip; the whispering.

Chained, she knelt. Chained around, nipples, breasts, belly, cunt. Chained as an adorned slave, a captive to be tamed, a princess to enslave. Chained for the first time – for real – she climaxed in several shudders on her knees. The sensation of the stiff collar locked around her neck – the hard tug of the chain leash – a leash that felt locked to her nipples and clitoris as one. And her mind and heart. Each pull, each command, rippled her sensations like a drug. She was rolling in The Deep...

"I can take you deeper," she heard clearly in the haze. The voice had no gender, only quiet authority. A serpentine wave snapped along the chain link leash to her collar ring. "Watch," the voice said.

In the blink of her eyes, the leash was shortened by an arm's length and she felt her mouth forced open. She gasped loudly and felt something long and thick thrust between her lips and nudge the back of her throat. She gagged a moment before catching her breath through her nose. It pulsed in her mouth, throbbing against her imprisoned tongue with erratic rhythms. And spewed thick gobbets of lava hot cum down her throat in an instant.

In the taste of the first spurt there was a chaos of emotions and sensations. Her life long quest for more was sated. She felt clear and directed. The addiction for the dark found its cure.

"No," whisper hissed a thing at her ear. "Deeper."

She had never before felt wracked by pleasure. These climaxes were jolts of lightning where before her fucking and sucking had been boring. She teetered on the edge of the maelstrom of no return. She knew that. She jumped.

Alice down the rabbit hole, everything was blackness. And then flame. Then deeper blackness. No returning flame, no light of any kind. Empty, hollow, blinding darkness. She shivered. It made her horny as fuck. The perfect ambiance for her deep fantasies to come true. 

And...

...she couldn't remember any.

It felt as if her mind was been washed clean of all the bogus porn-y mental flickers that she thought were her most erotic fantasies. The extreme this or that, the torturous bland gestures and fucking...all gone.

And in their place: This. This embraced totally and utterly by the dark. All of her senses were honed to razor sharpness and continually awed and overloaded. From scent to taste, from touch to sound, from seeing nothing to seeing everything. In the darkness. Swimming, drowning in sensual soft shadow...

She could not and would not stir a single pore of herself. Of course, he took that as the consent she intended. The first touch of the tip of his serpentine tongue to her clitoris set off explosions. He snake-flickered his tongue so lightly she almost bucked upward to grind, but remained frozen in place, waiting for more.

Kissing up and down her spread labia, his lips became smeared with her – he left wet smeared kisses along her belly and upward over her breasts. His lips enveloped her nipples, alternating back and forth between them, with sucking and licks. His mouth continued like a liquid flame along her neck, breathed dragon breath at her ear:

"Tell me what you want me to do," the voice whispered low.

She futilely shook her head.

And nearly fainted as a faint glimmering light appeared in the distance. She felt rather than saw the figure head nod in the direction of the light.

"Go."

She swallowed hard and trembled from toes to head. The delicious – addicting – embrace was gone, only the chilling air remained. Uneasy, she took a tentative step. Toward him. Then another.

His back to her, she fearfully slid her hands along his muscles and leaned close to his ear.

"I want you to do that. I want you to fuck me with your mouth. I want you to make me cum harder than I ever have before." She smiled at her own shock hearing the words out loud in her voice. It felt good to say.

"I need you to take me now," she whispered huskily.

And was transported. Somewhere else. Somewhere her nature and sexuality were appreciated and under the erotic control of something beyond her. Some thing.



Rolling in the Deep



Camy needed to feel the water on her feet, she impulsively decided. She ran quickly down the smooth, sand-coated steps. She was amazingly sure-footed, as if her body already knew the way. As she reached the bottom, she leapt down over the last two steps to land softly below. Crossing to the firmer, wet sand, Camy spared a glance or two at the wealth of shells and smooth stones, avoiding the seaweed. She stood where the returning surf would reach her feet; they barely sank at all into the packed wet sand. A breaking wave sent the thin sheet of surf curling up, up, until it rolled over and past her feet. Camy loved the gentle pull as it ebbed back into the sea, watching as her feet became partially buried in the cool moist sand that it briefly lifted, then set down and left behind. 

The wind rushing through the rocks and the breaking waves roared soothingly in her ears, broken only occasionally by a gull's scream. Camy could feel and hear the blood pounding in her veins. She walked up the beach to the jetty and climbed up, carefully stepping from rock to rock, until she was near the point where it was submerged. As small waves broke against it, their spray splashed across her, coating her skin in a fine mist of salt. Running her hands across her bare arms, the texture felt so "real" to Camy -- as if the sea was leaving its trace on her. The beauty of the scene filled her up with such joy she thought she might actually burst. With barely a conscious thought, she started to sing, completely uninhibitedly, into the crepuscular display. 

"Stars when you shine, you know how I feel.

Scent of the pine, you know how I feel.

Yeah, freedom is mine, and I know how I feel.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life

For me. And I'm feeling good...."

She threaded her fingers into her wild locks, shaking her heavy mane of hair to keep it from tangling in the wind. She used to keep her dark hair in a sleek blunt cut a few inches above her shoulders, routinely straightening it, because her ex-husband preferred it that way. Since the divorce, though, she'd stopped the straightening treatments and added several golden highlights. She let it grow unchecked. It was now was well past her shoulders, curling into the point between her shoulder blades. Her hair was not something she had been particularly vain about -- she thought that brown wavy hair was rather ordinary. But now, as it blew behind her and caressed her bare shoulders and neck, she was very happy that she'd stopped trying to tame it. It, too, deserved to be free.

The air was cooling off now that the sun was sinking beneath the horizon. Camy watched in awe as the lightshow that began earlier kicked into high gear. The sky was magnificent. Vivid purples, crimsons, yellows and oranges streaked upward, creating their mirror image at the point where the sea met the heavens. Camy could only stare in wonder, feeling weightless. Gooseflesh arose on her exposed flesh and she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. Her nipples were poking through the thin cotton of her dress. She rubbed her arms across the hard, sensitive little points and shivered slightly, but not just from the cold. Loathe to go in and miss any of this wonderful sunset, though, she stayed where she was until the orange light had dissipated and the first of the night stars began to twinkle in the growing dark blue sky. 

Stretching, she reached her arms upward toward Alpha Centauri, enjoying the formation and the release of tension in her muscles. But it was time to go back inside and finish the champagne -- and maybe get a fire going as she made dinner. So Camy spun about, moving quickly and lightly, as she skipped across the rocks and back along the beach. She paused at the top of the stairs to look back at the darkening water once more before running up the path to her adoptive home. 

As she rinsed the sand off her feet using the spicket at the edge of the deck, Camy caught sight of her reflection in the windows. She was momentarily shocked. Who was this lovely, wild thing? She looked in this light to be at least ten years younger. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders and her dark shining eyes looked huge in her angular face. Camy laughed aloud again at the incredible feeling of lightness and well being she felt. Maybe she should buy this house, she thought. 

Friday, 7:50PM

Trip sailed past the cottage on his way to the marina. He wondered if the two renters had arrived yet -- they were supposed to be due in today. The late evening sun reflected blindingly from the rows of windows facing the sea. The place positively glowed. He fought down an irrational bubble of envy. He vastly preferred staying in the cottage, rather than the main house. But Molly had arranged for the rental a couple of months ago, having no idea that he might want to take refuge there this month. She, Stewart and the twins were spending the summer in Provence with Stew's parents, so she would be away until at least mid September. 

His proper name was Jonathan, but his family always called him "Trip", short for triple, because he was Jonathan Tobias Miller, III. Using a pet name minimized confusion when multiple generations were present, as they often were. His grandfather had been Jonathan, his father was JT, and so he got a numerical designation. 

Trip would sorely miss his bossy and lovable little sister this season, but at least he had Barnaby. Looking to port at his goofy, lovable Golden Lab, Trip asked for confirmation from the sweet-tempered monster. "Don't I have you, Barns?" He asked. Barnaby yapped in response and skittered across the deck to push his large head against Trip's thigh. The dog looked like the lead character in a children's movie, strangely comfortable in his bright yellow canine lifejacket. His big brown cow eyes gazed adoringly at his master as his tail slapped to and fro. He was a pretty good boat dog, all things considered. Trip tacked slightly in order to get between the buoys for his approach to the marina. Their local caretaker, Douglas, would be waiting at the dock with the Jeep to run him and Barnaby to the house.

Trip allowed himself to get lost in the tactical details of radioing the harbormaster and docking the boat. These mundane details were sometimes a blessing. They didn't exactly fill up the empty spaces in his mind and heart, but they were gratifyingly distracting. 

Everyone told him, after Sarah died, that he'd eventually find a place where the memories didn't hurt so much. Trip supposed they were referring to the final stage of grief people grotesquely called "Acceptance". It was a word he detested. It was a word that typified the kind of passive surrender that went precisely against his nature. As if there were some great cosmic plan that we were powerless to contest, to which we were better off just yielding. And then everything would be okay. Yeah, right. 

Sarah had been his prep school sweetheart. They married, much against their parents' advice, right out of college. They lived blissfully together for years, or so he thought, until the day he found out she was sleeping with his Best Man and Fraternity brother. Things went south, they began to hate each other, and they finally divorced. But being from the same social circle, with a shared group of family and friends, avoidance was nearly impossible. They were thrown together time and again. A few years later, after a particularly wild New Year's Eve party hookup, they got back together. It was fine for a while, just like the early days. Then Sarah again started disappearing for weeks on end. Trip didn't bother to find out for whom, this time. They grew to once again hate each other, and they separated a second time. Fifteen years had come and gone in the blink of an eye. Just when Trip was finally ready to give up on the whole thing, Sarah got diagnosed. Cancer. The illness resulted in a dizzying rollercoaster of treatments, remissions, and relapses -- dramatic ups and downs for four long years. Her lovers and even many family members disappeared from her sick room, one by one. Trip stayed by her, nursing her and just holding her hand, all the way. 

The worst times were when Sarah was in a confessing mood. Things he never wanted to know were divulged as she sought to purify herself. Trip actually did forgive her, because her contrition was genuine, but the cuts to him went deep, nonetheless. Sarah told him, toward the end, that one of her great regrets was not having been more worthy of his loyalty. She once asked Trip, under the influence of a morphine drip, if he'd ever been loved enough. He didn't have an answer. He tried to bury the question away, but lately it kept resurfacing again, and again. 

Finally, completely spent and no longer even communicative, Sarah left him for the last time. That was two years ago. 

Most people only knew the love story of Trip and Sarah. There was no need to sully her memory with the ugly reality that ran in parallel. But it made their well-meant condolences that much harder to take. The hollowness that Trip felt after it was over was hard for him to fathom. He should have felt relief, shouldn't he? He should have been able to put his relationship with his ex-wife into perspective and move on. But he felt debilitated. As if something in him had died long before Sarah did. 

Since love was an elusive mystery to Trip, he did what many men in his circumstance might do: he sought to distract himself with sex. It was all too easy, because he was gifted with great looks, a fair degree of charm, old money, and a complete disinterest in sleeping with someone more than once, much less in developing any kind of relationship. In the two years since Sarah died, Trip had gone on a sexual rampage. Intercourse became a strange kind of emotional short-circuit. He collected sexual experiences, treating the whole process rather like a chess match played with his own conscience. 

He had a few rules: strictly safe sex, no cameras, no married women, and no one his family knew socially. These rules were not so much moral in nature, they were simply pragmatic: Trip was pathologically averse to risking his heart again. He therefore didn't want to stumble into any liaisons that were likely to precipitate ties, lawsuits, publicity or any form of obligation.

There was just one problem: after a while, he felt soul-sick. Trip wasn't even sure he believed in such a thing as a soul -- but if he had one, it was pretty unwell. The emptiness burned, like acid reflux in his psyche. As the summer approached, he'd finally realized that enough was enough. He was done sampling the garden of earthly delights, as it were. He needed to be alone and try to cleanse himself. Get his head right. Plan his next move. 

What he really wanted was to escape to his idea of heaven on earth: his grandmother's cottage on Cape Cod, accompanied only by Barnaby, who never judged. There was just one problem: his favorite place in the entire world had been rented out for half the month by two single career women, according to Molly. 

Yikes. Trip could just see them now: two brittle, habitually starved, designer-clad alpha women. They'd probably stride through the cottage and bemoan the fact that it didn't have a treadmill or yoga studio. They'd invade his sanctuary, insensitive to its charms, lugging home shopping bags of crap they didn't need from the local outlet malls and tourist traps. Trip was willing to bet that these harpies wouldn't appreciate the stillness or the sensual beauty of the place. Not the way he did. He'd be willing to bet that they wouldn't look upon the compass rose in the foyer, for example, appreciating the craftsmanship his grandfather had put into that lyrical tribute to the love of his life. 

Would these Botoxed, freeze dried cougars stand, rapt, on the balcony just listening to the sounds of the sea, or revel in the poetic beauty of the sunsets over the Sound? Would they feel the joy of the place wash over them, reawakening their senses? Not bloody likely.

It rankled Trip that one of these stiletto-wearing philistines would get to sleep in his favorite bedroom on earth, while he had to rattle around in the massive family compound that carried so many unwelcome memories of the past. Trip almost didn't come to the Cape at all, but Manhattan had that grimy, malodorous haze of August descending upon it. He felt disgusted with himself. He needed to reboot. At least he'd be at the beach -- and maybe when those witches left he could retake his sanctuary. The month might not be a total loss.

So it was with this pessimistic outlook that Trip arrived at his family home. Only Barnaby seemed delighted. Douglas gave Trip a look that went right through him -- as if he could read his mood and understand why he'd decided to escape, alone, to the beach. With a barely perceptible change of expression, Douglas managed to convey his compassion, his desire to be helpful and his acknowledgement and respect for the fact that Trip was not in a sharing mood. Trip was impressed that the older man could accomplish this with a subtle lift of just one eyebrow. And then the moment was over. 

Shaking his hand, Douglas murmured something incoherent about being available if needed. Trip responded in a non-committal way with false cheerfulness -- a clear signal that it was okay for Douglas to take his leave. 

He didn't even bother to unpack. He needed fresh air. Calling to Barnaby, Trip took him down to the beach so they could play some fetch. He needed that even more than the dog did. Wouldn't it be nice if everything in life were like this? If when you threw something to someone, they not only made a mighty effort to catch it, they also willingly returned it to you. If only things could be so easy with humans.

Trip had just thrown the stick up the beach for what had to have been the thirtieth time, when he felt a funny tickle down the back of his neck, as if there were eyes on him. He turned, looking toward his grandmother's cottage. The sun glinted briefly off of a French door as it was being closed. 

Ah, he thought, the princesses are in residence. Fabulous. Barnaby had just returned, proudly, with the stick, which he dropped at Trip's feet. The dog impatiently whimpered as Trip looked up at the house on the cliff. 

"I know what you mean, buddy." Trip said grimly. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up -- you're a mess." It was true; Barnaby's fur was caked with wet sand. Trip led him to the outdoor shower area and hosed him down with warm water, before squirting shampoo over his yellow coat and lathering it in. This was a ritual that the dog absolutely loved. The trick was to rinse him off thoroughly and wrap him in a towel quickly enough before he shook the water everywhere -- drenching everything in range. The thing about tricks is that they are usually easy to know, but hard to do. Trip wasn't fast enough and he got soaked. The man and beast went back into the house via the mudroom, so that Trip could remove his sandy shoes, remove his wet shirt and do a better job of drying off the overgrown puppy. 

Satisfied that the dog was mostly dry, he filled Barnaby's food bowl in the kitchen and proceeded, clad now just in his jeans and a tee shirt, to the wet bar to pour himself a single malt, neat. Trip took his Scotch with him as he stepped out on the terrace. The sunset was in its final blaze of glory. He leaned on the railing and allowed the noise in his head to subside. As he savored the smoky iodine flavor of the whiskey, he felt himself begin to relax for the first time in many months. When he closed his eyes, the black spot the setting sun created behind his eyelids became a sort of meditative focal point. The roar of the surf filled his ears. 

After a moment, Trip opened his eyes, straightening up. He wasn't sure if the wind was playing tricks on him. He listened harder. There it was again! He could hear the sound of someone singing. His heart started to pound -- the voice was almost otherworldly -- like an angel's voice. It was a tad too sexy for an angel, perhaps, but hauntingly beautiful. The way the wind was blowing, he could not tell what direction it was coming from. He leapt off the terrace and began to walk across the sand, toward the water, scanning north and southward. Just as suddenly, the singing stopped. He stood still, listening as hard as he could, hoping it would begin again. 

What the hell was that?! He wondered. Whatever it was, he wasn't ready for it to stop. In his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of something moving down the beach, about 500 yards away, past the jetty that bordered the cottage beach. He spun to the right just in time to see a slender woman with long dark hair leap off of the rocks to the sandy beach beyond, where she disappeared from view behind the rocky cliff edge.

He ran down to just to the water's edge so that he might have a better angle to see her. It was getting dark already, but he could just barely make out her white dress moving through the shadows to the stairs. 

Trip was reminded of the stories his grandmother used to tell him about the Selkies. Back in the Ireland of her youth, romantic and terrible legends surrounding these magical shape shifters were renowned. A Selkie was a seal in the water, but could shed his or her skin and live as a human on land. They were very beautiful and seductive as humans. His grandmother claimed that they could sing like sirens or mermaids, luring their lovers out to sea. A smile had formed on Trip's handsome mouth -- he knew, of course, that all of this was impossible fancy. But at some level it was as if his grandmother were back with him, if only for moment, spinning a delicious fairy tale to soothe his wounded heart.

The Selkie suddenly appeared again at the top of the stairs. The light of the early moon shone down on her as she paused, looking out to sea. Then, quick as a sprite, she ran back along the cliff path toward the cottage. Trip could scarcely believe it. His Selkie was one of those city women who had displaced him! He realized he was going to have to reassess them -- well, one at least. 

Maybe being neighborly is the right thing to do, he wondered. Shouldn't he stop in on them to say welcome?

"No!" he said aloud, shaking his head. "Enough now." He told himself. He'd come there to stop philandering. Not to immediately bed down one of his tenants.

Trip looked down at his feet. The tide had been rolling back and forth over his bare feet and the cuffs of his jeans for the last several minutes, and he hadn't even noticed. Sighing, he pulled his feet out of the wet sand and began to trudge back up to the house. He didn't remember what he'd done with that single malt. In the morning, he'd have to come back out to search for the glass. His mother would tan his hide if he'd lost one of the Baccarat.

Friday, 10:30 PM

Trip stood under the spray of the shower, his hands braced against the wall in front of him. It felt good to wash off the salt and sand, and the water pressure was helping to work out the kink he had in his right shoulder. He hadn't been particularly hungry, so had just picked at the burger he'd had delivered for dinner. The second Scotch was working, though. He straightened up, leaning his head back to make sure all the shampoo had been rinsed out. Without really meaning to, his hand had drifted down to his cock. 

He couldn't get the image of that dark-haired girl out of his head. Several times during the evening, he'd walked past the windows that gave him a view of the cottage. Lights were on and smoke was coming from the chimney -- they had lit a fire. They sure did, he thought, smirking. 

Trip's right hand had curled around his thickening penis as he remembered the look of her leaping off the rocks and running on the beach in the semi-darkness. He started to stroke, his hand twisting to the right a bit as it slid down his wet length. He was instantaneously hard. 




Rolling in the Deep



He imagined what might have happened if he'd run after her, catching her around the waist from behind before she reached the stairs. Pulling her down to the soft sand, he'd tear the little white dress from her body. She'd struggle a bit at first, because he caught her unawares, but she soon quiet as she looked up at him. He'd look at her nakedness, his fingers running down her torso, across her dark nipples, her lean stomach, settling in the fine hair between her legs. She'd gasp and arch her back, leaning further into his hand. Trip would then move down between her lean thighs and explore her womanhood. He'd part her lips with the fingers of one hand as he watched her become wet for him. The scent of her would waft up to him, and it would be all he could do to refrain from slamming his face into her. But it would be more pleasurable to tease her a little, first. Make her beg him for release. So he'd slip one index finger inside her, feeling her muscles clamp down on him as she softly groaned. His slickened fingertip would then move up to the hood surrounding her hard, very pink clitoris. She'd be panting now, her pelvis jerking forward as he rubbed the sensitive tip. Then and only then would he lean forward, his eyes on her, to run his tongue up and down her slit. The sweet and salty taste of her would fill his senses. Her hands would clasp the back of his head, pressing him into her...

"Ahhhh -- fuck!" Trip shouted, his eyes closed, as he came. It seemed to go on for ages, as jet after jet hit the marble tiles of the shower wall. His heart was pounding as he tried to slow his breathing down. He reached out and turned down the water temperature, enjoying the feeling as the spray turned cool against his overheated skin. He'd sleep well tonight. 

Saturday, 5:45AM

Camy was swimming in the dark. The cool water ran over her bare skin as she languidly did the backstroke. The moonlight gave her wet body a pearlescent glow. She heard a disturbance. She saw the back of his head as he sliced through the water, heading straight toward her. Light gleamed on the taut muscles of his shoulders and back. Strong legs kicked below the surface, causing no splash at all. His movements were unnaturally smooth and graceful, like some kind of sea creature. His hands reached out and caught her by the ankles. He parted her legs. She gasped in surprise and alarm. Camy was floating on her back; suspended, unable to move. He still hadn't lifted his head. How did he hold his breath for so long? He kept moving toward her, past her calves, her knees, her thighs, his body mostly submerged. She saw his head move closer, closer to the place between her legs. She knew he was looking at her nakedness from underwater. Then all she felt was his mouth on her. She shouted into the night sky as his tongue snaked into her. It was long and thick, undulating deep inside her, tickling her G spot as his lips clamped over her clit. He was humming into her, his tongue now stroking in and out of her pussy, which was now completely drenched. Tension and heat pooled inside her, her wet folds pulsating faster and faster, building and building until she exploded. The orgasm reverberated again and again, spreading out from her core to her outer lips, thighs and abdomen. Her body jerked forward and she found herself screaming out loud as light burst forth around her. 

Camy sat up in bed, panting. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as the climax finally slowed. It was pre-dawn. The gray light was seeping in from under the drapes. Looking around the strange room nervously for a moment, Camy finally remembered where she was. She fell back on the opulent pillows, her body coated with a fine sheen of sweat. She was panting, her heart pounding in her chest. Another fucking hot sex dream, and this one was awesome. She laughed, exhilarated as she brought her knees together and curled to her side. Drifting in the afterglow, still trembling with little aftershocks, she wondered who he was: the man from her dream...

She tried to fall back to sleep, but her body was too stimulated. Jumping out of bed, she opened the curtains and looked out at the early morning over the water. Run, she thought. She needed to run on the beach. 

Fifteen minutes later, she was on the deck in her running clothes, stretching her quads. She decided to run barefoot. The dew was still covering everything with fat, glistening drops that sparkled in the pinkish-gray light. The air was cool and fresh. Camy still had enough endorphins raging through her body that she was excited about physical exercise. 

She traversed the path and ran lightly down the stairs, crossing the sand to the point where it was wet. Camy set off, running up the beach on the hard-packed sand just above the reach of the surf. Her ponytail was swinging rhythmically behind her as she found her pace. It was slower going on the beach and the lack of resistance made the workout surprisingly tough. She'd gone about a mile and a half up the beach when it became too hot. Stopping to pull off her hoodie and tie it around her waist, Camy paused to watch the dawn breaking over the water. 

Crimson and hot pink spread upward from the horizon. As she watched, the Sound changed from dark gray to pale aqua, tipped with gold. Overcome by it, Camy sat down on the beach, because she didn't quite trust her legs to support her. Bringing her hands up to her face, which had become hot and very moist, she was surprised to realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks. She looked at her wet fingers, mystified by how emotional she'd been since arriving here. 

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something hurtling toward her on the beach. She turned, raising her arms defensively just a fraction of a second before she was knocked over into the sand. Too startled even to scream, she brought her arms up to protect her face only to realize that she was being sloppily licked by a big, friendly dog.

"Oh my god! Hi baby -- hey! Okay, big guy. Nice to meet you too!" She crooned to him as he lathed his big tongue and sandy wet nose across her face. His paws were on her chest, effectively pinning her down. Camy started laughing as she grappled with the lovable giant. 

"Barnaby! Down, boy! Right now! Come! You know better!" Camy heard the deep baritone voice vibrating as it approached, which made her realize he was running. The dog immediately moved off of her and ran back toward the voice. 

"I'm so very sorry -- I don't even know how to apologize. He NEVER does this. Are you alright?! You're not hurt, are you?" He sounded horrified. As he reached Camy, he realized that she was laughing and the frown lines and concern seemed to dissipate somewhat.

Trip dropped to his knees as Camy raised herself back into a sitting position. He caught her shoulders to help her sit up, looking her over quickly with keen, deep blue eyes. As his eyes reached her face, his right hand gently cupped her jaw, lifting her face so he could discern how she looked. Camy, still laughing but now feeling a little foolish, rushed to reassure him. She didn't want Barnaby to get into trouble. 

"No - please, I'm fine. Really. He's a sweet dog. He just doesn't know his own strength. Honestly -- I'm okay. Just... sandy...." She laughed again and looked directly up at him. Their eyes locked and she felt a strange sensation -- like something had clicked into place. They froze like that for a few lingering moments. He still had his hand on her face. It felt so good. They were both breathing a little too hard. Camy could hear the blood roaring in her ears over the sound of the surf.

Barnaby barked excitedly, breaking the spell. They pulled quickly away from each other as if they'd been burned. He dropped his hand and sat back on his haunches for a second as she pushed a stray hair away from her eyes. The absurdity of the situation suddenly hit Camy hard, and she started to laugh again. Trip found himself responding to her easy sense of humor, and after the briefest of hesitations, he laughed along with her. 

"Uh, hi. I'm Trip." He reached out his right hand, a crooked smile on his handsome face.

She shook the sand out of her right hand, wiping it on her thigh before putting it into his and grasping it firmly. His eyes had followed the movement of her hand, their color darkening just a tad. 

"I'm Camy. Lovely to meet you." Not releasing her hand, he had sprung to his feet in a clean athletic move and helped to pull her to her feet.

"Here, let me help you up." He said, his eyes sparkling flirtatiously. As she stood, she suddenly felt shy and needed to break eye contact, so she leaned around and began to brush the sand off of her backside and legs. Trip gently brushed the sand from her shoulders and back. She found the warmth of his strong hands to be electrifying. Her checks blushed vividly and she murmured her thanks. 

Barnaby pushed his way in between them, shoving his head against Camy's hip.

"And this, I take it, is Barnaby." She said. Leaning down slightly she fondled the dog's floppy ears. The dog made a happy grunting noise, his tail wagging rapidly and poised as if to jump up again.

"Down!" Trip commanded, but his voice almost broke into a laugh. Looking back at Camy he confirm: "Yes, that is, indeed, Barnaby. My best and only truly loyal friend." Trip's eyebrows shot up in surprise after this last statement. He had not meant to say that and was shocked at himself. Camy just laughed. 

"I know what you mean. Wouldn't it be nice if people were so straightforward and uncomplicated?" She glanced back down at the dog, giving Trip a moment to recover, but then when she looked back up at him, her head was set at a slight angle and her eyes were more thoughtful.

"Exactly." He responded softly. Trip liked the way her mouth looked when she smiled. He suddenly wanted badly to taste those generous lips. She was a lot prettier than he'd imagined, and not at all brittle, for a city girl. Her large eyes were so dark brown they looked almost black, but he noted that when the sun shone directly on her face, there were flecks of amber in the irises. She had naturally dark and thick brows and lashes, so even without makeup, as she was now, she was very beautiful. There was an almost Slavic angularity to her nose and cheekbones. She was altogether really exotic. A true Selkie, if ever there was one. He couldn't tell how old she was -- she could have been in her thirties or even older. But she carried herself with poise and maturity, so he guessed she was nearing forty. Much more age-appropriate than most of his women, he mused.

With a tiny guilty shock, he realized she was saying something.

"... how long have you had him?" Trip blinked, trying to catch up. 

"Sorry -- Ah! How long have I had Barns?" He looked up the beach, as if trying to remember, in order to pull himself together. "Two years... he's still got a lot of puppy in him."

"What a sweetie." She was saying to the dog, patting his rump. 

"Are you staying down in the cottage, then?" He asked almost abruptly. Camy didn't seem surprised.

"Yes -- I arrived last night. I saw you guys playing fetch on the beach around sunset yesterday, actually." She confessed. "Are you staying in the big Victorian?"

"Yeah -- my parents' place. My grandparents built it for my dad as a wedding present. So they could all summer together. But honestly, I prefer their original cottage. How are you and your friend enjoying it?" Camy was looking at him in surprise.

"Wait -- your family owns both houses? Ah! That makes sense, actually. The architecture is so similar and they are the only two on this side of the highway. But I thought the owner was a woman -- was it Molly? My friend Amanda spoke with her when making the arrangements."

"Yeah, Molly is my sister." Trip offered that up lest Camy think he was married. "Where is your friend Amanda now -- still asleep?" 

"Oh -- no. Uh, Amanda had a work thing pop up and couldn't come. So it's just me." He looked sharply at Camy, a slow smile spread across his face. 

"So... you're all on your own." He said it with a tinge of admiration in his voice. Camy laughed. He realized that he loved the sound of her laugh. It was deep and sexy. He couldn't help responding to it.

"Yep. How luxurious is that?!" She paused, and then asked: "Who else is in that big house with you?" The answer really mattered to her, she realized. 

"Yeah, good point. No one. I'm alone too, if you don't count the mutt, here." They both looked down at the good-natured hound, as he looked back adoringly. 

"Well you have to count Barnaby, obviously..." She shrugged, scratching the dog's head. Trip had been reaching down to pet the dog as well, and their hands met. They pulled away from one another, straightening. Their eyes met and the silence began to stretch into something more poignant.

Searching around for something to say, Camy looked out at the horizon, which was glowing a bright red-pink. "Wow -- look at the light. It really is beautiful here -- I don't think I've seen the sunrise that color before..." Trip turned to look in the same direction.

"Sailors take warning..." He quoted.

"Sorry?" She looked at him inquiringly. The strange light from the dawn gave him a surreal beauty. Her heart lurched in her chest. Camy was glad the light was pink -- because she hoped he wouldn't realize how flushed her cheeks were becoming.

"Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight. It's an old saying. A red sky like this at dawn often means a storm is coming." He looked at her as he finished speaking, again struck by her natural loveliness and unaffected sexiness. 

Trip let his eyes wander over her pretty face and the full, well-formed mouth that he wanted to simply devour, down her throat --where a pulse was thrumming at the base, and he took in the luscious cleavage created by the V-neck of her top. Her breasts rode high on her chest and he could see a faint outline of her nipples against the high tech fabric of the sports bra. Her body was delicious, but there was something more than that. He felt strange when he looked at this woman, as if something significant were happening. As if meeting her, like this, might have some kind of meaning.

"Is there?" She asked. His eyes shot back to hers -- he stared at her for a moment, confused. As if she heard his thoughts. But then almost as quickly he realized she was asking him if a storm was coming, per the old wives' tale.

"Actually, yes, probably. They said there is a hurricane rolling up the Coast, and we might get the outer edge of the rains and winds. Maybe tonight, they said, depending upon the pressure systems."

"Oh -- I didn't know that. Should I be worried?" 

"Here on the Sound side, we usually don't take much of a beating. But it would be a good idea to watch the forecasts in case things develop..."

They had started walking back down the beach, naturally falling into step. Every once in a while, Trip's right hand brushed the back of Camy's left as their arms swung loosely between them.

They continued to make small talk, much of it about the weather and the dog, as they walked south. But they both became aware of an undercurrent running between them, below the polite banter. As they drew even with Trip's house, their pace slowed until they finally stopped walking completely. 

They were standing at the water's edge, allowing the tide to roll over their feet as they talked. Camy stole glances over at Trip when he wasn't looking. God, he was handsome, she thought. He had on a very old and worn-looking polo shirt in a faded navy blue. It brought out the remarkable dark blue of his eyes. She found herself looking at the way it hung off his muscular shoulders. It was loose at the waist, drawing her attention to his narrow hips. When the wind caught the hem, it lifted the shirt showing a hard, flat tanned stomach beneath above the low waistband of his well-worn, beat-up jeans. His biceps, forearms and hands were large and sinewy, without looking contrived. His tan looked perpetual but genuine -- a real sailor's tan. It gave his face a rather rugged appearance, which tempered the natural classical beauty, keeping him from looking "pretty". It also made his perfect teeth look stunningly white whenever he flashed one of his crooked smiles at her. Camy felt her mouth go dry and had to force herself to keep looking away.

His hair was slightly too long and a bit unruly, which would be considered quite fashionable, but in his case it did not seem to be consciously styled that way. Perhaps it would have been medium brown, if he didn't spend so much time outdoors -- but it was very sun-bleached in places, so he looked as if he had dark blond hair. His eyebrows and eyelashes were much darker. She'd once heard the expression "blue eyes put in with dirty fingers" -- and that seemed to suit him perfectly. Camy found herself wondering how old he was. She guessed that he was roughly her age. 

She became aware that he'd stopped talking, and was looking at her as if waiting for her to speak. Blushing furiously, she had no choice but to admit that she hadn't heard whatever it was he'd just said. 

"I'm so sorry -- did you say something? My mind wandered off..." 

He smiled into her eyes, his own gaze narrowing as he tried to read her face. It only caused her to blush more. Finally, he said: "I asked if you wanted to come inside for coffee, Camy..." 

She felt a flood of wetness between her legs when he spoke her name, which made her catch her lower lip between her teeth. Her reaction must have somehow showed on her face, because she saw his eyes darken, his nostrils flare a little and his posture change very subtly. She swallowed quickly and forced a polite smile, accepting with a bit of a stammer. 

He stepped toward her. She had to stop herself from taking a step backward. He was just slightly too close for ordinary conversation. Camy could barely breathe. Trip brought his hand up, taking her elbow. The heat from his palm seemed to sear through her. His eyes scanned hers with an almost predatory aspect.

"Cool. Right this way..." His voice had dropped a register. She could feel it vibrate deep in her abdomen, and lower. 

As he walked her across the sand, toward the stately house, he let his hand slide down her forearm and clasp her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. A current of electricity shot up her arm, and Camy felt her nipples hardening through her sports bra. She could scarcely believe that they were holding hands. It felt so incredibly intimate. It would never have occurred to her that hand-to-hand touch could feel so wildly erotic. Trip casually grazed his thumb across her palm, as if unaware he was doing it. Her lips parted but she forced herself to breathe evenly and not gasp audibly. He had to know what he was doing, she thought. Nervous flutters were rolling around her tummy. She couldn't remember the last time she was this turned on. It was exhilarating. She never felt more alive. 

Trip was glad his old jeans were loose fitting because he was getting hard. Imagine -- hard from just a conversation! There was a growing heat between them that Trip knew was mutual. When he asked her if she wanted coffee, he realized that she was staring at him, lost in thought, but had not heard a word he'd said. She blushed adorably when he caught her. Trip repeated the question, lingering over her name. 

Her reaction was so sexy, it was all he could do to not yank her to him and force his tongue down her throat. Her pupils dilated and she scraped her teeth across her lip, shifting nervously. It was as if he'd actually touched her. Taking a few steps forward, he leaned close. She smelled wonderful and he could see her trembling a little as her head tipped back ever so slightly so she could look up at him. He took her arm and turned her toward the house, hoping she wouldn't see his erection. Her skin felt like silk. He was aware that she was submitting to his control, and it turned him on even more. 




Rolling in the Deep



As they walked to the house, Trip decided to try an experiment. He moved his hand down her arm to take her hand in his. You could tell a lot about a woman from the way she held your hand. If she went limp, being completely passive, it was a bad sign. It often meant that she was apathetic or empty. If, on the other hand, she resisted or tried to take control herself, it was yet another red flag. That mean she was an alpha female who needed to assert herself and essentially be a "top". Trip couldn't abide either of those extremes, to be honest. 

He slid his fingers between Camy's, grasping her hand. He could feel her reacting beside him. Her arm quivered and though she tried to hide it, her breathing became more erratic. Her hand shaped itself to his, and her fingers engaged in a little interplay. Their palms moved against each other, tender as a kiss -- reminding him of the lines from Romeo and Juliet: 

"For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, 

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

Trip dragged his thumbnail across her palm, knowing that this would have an erogenous effect. He was not disappointed when he saw her lips part and felt her breath catch. His erection jumped slightly. He began to think about what he would do when he had her inside his house. This mind fucking was delicious, and he didn't want to scare her off or move too fast. 

When they got to the deck, Trip walked over toward the outdoor showers and used a large soft brush and mini hose to clean the sand off of his cuffs and feet. Camy hovered for a moment behind him, her lower lip once again snagged between her perfect teeth. 

"Allow me." Trip offered, inviting her to sit on the teak bench. She seemed a little confused, but took a seat as he indicated. This time she did gasp as he knelt down and caught hold of one slim ankle, lifting her foot up. He looked at her for a second before spraying the sand from her foot with the hose. He admired her shapely, expertly groomed feet. They were slender and neither overly large nor small. She wore wine-colored polish on her toes. Trip allowed himself to almost fondle the foot in his hand, his palm cupping the tender arch as his thumb rubbed the inside curve. When he'd finished rinsing one foot, Camy moved to pull it away, but he held it captive, actually pressing her foot to his chest, causing a wet spot. Camy gaped at him, unable to speak.

"One second..." He smiled mischievously as he reached behind her and snapped a towel off of a hook. He rubbed her foot dry with the towel with both hands. Camy was practically shaking. Her panties beneath the tight Capri running pants were a lost cause. She was glad they were black, and hoped he couldn't tell how aroused she was. But her nipples were another story. They were pushing aggressively through the microfiber of her sports bra and there was nothing she could do about that. She briefly considered putting her hoodie back on -- but that would have looked weird and only drawn attention to the situation.

Trip laid the towel on the deck at her feet, finally allowing her to put her foot down on it. Looking back up at her with a wicked smirk, he said: "Now let's have the other one, shall we?" Camy leaned back, her hands gripping the edge of the bench as he took hold of her other ankle and began to repeat the action. 

He took his time with this foot. He scraped his short, neatly trimmed fingernails down her ankle, over her heel, and up under her arch as he directed the water over her skin. When he threaded his fingers between her toes, Camy jumped, her leg jerking back reflexively so that he had to grip her foot tightly to hang onto it. He cocked an eyebrow and asked: "Are you ticklish, Camy?" 

She gave him a mock scowl, trying unsuccessfully to not smile. "Yeah..." she breathed out in a low voice. "Something like that." Trip stilled, regarding her with frank sexuality. He'd put down the hose and was massaging her foot with the pads of his thumbs. His eyes were becoming heavy-lidded as they roamed over her body, focusing for a few moments on her breasts. He made a soft "mmm" sound deep in his throat. There, she thought, now he's seen them. I'm a goner!

"So..." he growled softly, "It might affect you if I did this..." He lifted her foot and pressed his lips to her arch. A sharp bolt of electricity ran from her foot directly into her pussy. Camy's head fell back, a sharp cry issuing from her. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth. Trip kept his eyes on her face. His smile was dangerous as his hand moved caressingly down her calf. 

"Or maybe this..." he murmured, as he slipped his tongue between her big toe and her second, and then pulled her big toe into his mouth. His teeth grazed her skin as his tongue flickered against her. 

"Oh my god!" Camy couldn't stop her body from shaking. He raised his head and hooked her ankle over his shoulder, turning his face so he could trail kisses up the inside of her leg. So slowly, Camy thought she might scream, he lowered her leg as far as his waist and he crawled toward her, pulling her body to the edge of the bench.

They were eye to eye, Trip on his knees, Camy seated. He took hold of her other leg, and hooked it, likewise, around his waist. She obediently complied as he reached behind his back to encourage her to cross her ankles behind him. Their faces were mere inches from each other as he brought his arms around her, his hands pressing her lower back to bring their lower bodies into tight contact. She could feel his erection pushing against her wetness through all those clothes.

"Put your arms around my neck, Camy." He quietly commanded. Her eyes scanned his as she silently moved her hands up his biceps, over his shoulders, and wrapped them around his neck, the fingers of her right hand threading through his hair. 

Their eyes were locked. They only needed to move their heads slightly to be kissing. For some reason, they both wanted to draw it out and torture themselves a bit longer. Trip drew in a slow, deep breath, enjoying the way it pressed his body more tightly to hers. She found herself whispering his name, like a fervent prayer.

Suddenly, Barnaby began to bark loudly, clearly in alarm. They were both startled and tore away from each other, as Trip, cursing violently under his breath, stood to see what had set the dog off. The Lab was barking loudly, running side to side in front of the French Doors, as if reacting to someone in the house. As Trip walked over toward the doors he froze, straightening and running a hand through his hair. 

He glanced over at Camy, a rueful smile on his face as he tilted his head in a sort of apology. The doors opened and an elegant older couple walked out onto the deck. 

The woman was slight, her gray hair styled in a smart chignon. She wore enormous, stylish black sunglasses and was dressed in white trousers and a black sweater set. The man was lean and tall, about Trip's height, and was obviously his father. The resemblance was unmistakable. He had a full head of closely cropped white hair and wore crisp khakis and a dark sport coat. Trip spread his arms wide; his smile was genuine as he said: 

"Mom, Dad! I had no idea you were coming! Why didn't you call?" His mother took hold of his face and gave him a loud, smacking kiss, patting his cheek with one hand.

"Oh we just landed in Hyannis, dear. We're off to Bar Harbor tomorrow to go sailing with the Browns, but we wanted to surprise you. Molly said you were on your own and we thought it would be wonderful to see you." Trip and his father smiled at one another before hugging completely unselfconsciously. Trip's father even placed a quick kiss on his forehead before shoving his hands back in his pants pockets. His mother had at this point spied Camy, who'd risen from the bench and was shrugging into her hoodie.

"Oh! Hello there! I'm so sorry, darling, I didn't think you had company and here we are barging in." She walked straight over to Camy with her fine-boned, papery hand outstretched. Her face was completely open and warm even though her sharp eyes took in every detail of Camy's running clothes and pink face. "I'm Margaret Miller, dearie, but everyone calls me Meg and so should you." 

Camy couldn't help liking this woman already. She closed the distance between them, taking her proffered hand and shaking it with equal warmth. Shaking her head, she said: "No, no -- I'm not a guest, I'm a neighbor and a -- tenant, I guess. I'm renting your lovely cottage on the cliff. I'm Camy Serafian. Very nice to meet you, Meg." 

Meg turned back, motioning to her husband, saying "And this is Trip's father, JT. So you're one of the ladies from Manhattan who rented Nana's cottage. How lovely. You are a pretty thing, aren't you!" 

Without giving Camy a window to reply, she turned back to Trip and exclaimed: "Coffee, sonny boy! Coffee, please. Your mummy is dying here."

Trip was making eye contact with Camy, laughing resignedly. "We were just about to make some for ourselves. C'mon Meg -- let's go brew something up." 

He waited, his arm outstretched to Camy in invitation, as Meg and JT walked back into the house. As she drew near, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, his voice very sexy:

"Sorry about this. It's not what I expected, or hoped, would happen now." 

Camy laughed, smiling up at him, her cheeks still rosy. "It's okay, really. Your parents seem great. I don't want to intrude, should I leave you guys alone to catch up?"

He caught her arm and shook his head adamantly. "Don't you dare run off, my Selkie. This is but a brief interruption. At least now you'll actually get coffee." They both laughed at that.

As they were about to go through the French doors, Camy paused, looking back at Trip. "Why did you call me 'Silky'?" She asked.

"Selkie. Long story. I'll tell you all about it later." He promised, dropping a chaste little kiss on her temple. He watched her walk into the house, sighing to himself in frustration. His parents did say they were flying out tomorrow. Trip wasn't sure he could wait that long.

Saturday, 9:00 AM

Camy turned on the shower, letting the water temperature warm up as she stripped off her running clothes. She was replaying the last few hours in her mind. 

She'd spent a little over two hours having coffee and toast with Trip and his parents. She found herself liking him more and more. Originally just taken with his overall "presence" and good looks, she learned more about him by observing the way he behaved with his parents and how they spoke of him, than she would have if she'd spent days getting to know him one to one. Her cheeks flamed at this thought, because it reminded her of what had been going on before his parents' unexpected arrival. 

She stood in front of the mirror, which was becoming coated with steam, and looked critically at herself. Pulling the ponytail band from her hair, she let it fall down around her shoulders. Camy knew that she grappled with her self-esteem, and she knew why. Her ex and her mom had been extraordinarily tough on her: critical of her looks, seemingly never quite satisfied with her. She remembered a particularly painful conversation with Bill when he suggested she get breast implants. She hovered between a B and C cup, which Camy thought was ample -- but Bill wanted her to be larger. He also bought her a gift certificate for Botox injections on her 39th birthday. Camy pretended to be pleased, but later cried in the bathroom because she knew it meant he felt she was looking old. 

But Camy felt different now, somehow. The way Trip looked at her -- but more importantly, the way she felt when she looked at herself -- she didn't feel old or inadequate. She felt beautiful. Sexy, even. Her authenticity was something she liked and wanted to hang onto. Running her hands down her body, Camy felt her own sensuality becoming unleashed. All those years of disciplined exercise meant that her breasts were firm and tight. Her waist was long and narrow, tummy flat, and her hips curved down to her lean, muscular thighs and slim calves. Turning to the side, she looked at the shape of her ass -- it wasn't too bad, she thought. It curved in the right places and didn't sag. All that running, over all that time. Maybe, Camy thought, she was finally getting somewhere. 

She stepped into the shower and soon began to think about Trip, and those moments on the deck before they were interrupted. They hadn't even kissed yet, but she'd felt how aroused he was. The carnal look in his eyes, and the deep commanding power of his voice. She'd have done anything he wanted. That thought didn't frighten her, it caused a delicious thrill that ran all the way down her spine and culminated in her womb. 

Camy moaned when she remembered what his mouth had felt like on her sensitive feet. Her fingers slipped down her soap-slicked body to flutter at the hood surrounding her clit. The moment she touched herself, she felt a tiny shockwave of excitement course through her. Closing her eyes, she used both hands on herself. Her left hand held her nether lips open, while her right flicked over her clit. She imagined that it was Trip's tongue, doing to her pussy what he'd done to her toes. Camy moaned aloud as a tiny flood of additional wetness surged inside her. Her natural lubrication mixed with the water and soap, making it easy for her fingers to fly over her hard little knob with greater intensity. Leaning back against the shower wall, Camy inserted the index and middle finger of her left hand inside as she rapidly stroked her clit with the middle finger of her right hand. As she fucked herself with her own fingers, she began to pretend that it was Trip's cock moving inside her. Her pleasure crested and the climax overtook her. She cried out, her knees going weak, as her insides seemed to explode in a series of violent waves. She actually felt dizzy, and needed to brace herself against the tiles to remain steady.

Camy laughed, delightedly, as she slowly came down from this heady feeling. She finished bathing, singing another one of her favorite tunes:

"You're my thrill. You do something to me. 

You send chills right through me 

when I look at you 'cause you're my thrill..."

Saturday, 5:55 PM

The skies had darkened ominously and the normally calm waters of the Sound roiled with swells and white caps. Waves crashed against the rocks again and again, throwing spray high up into the air. The wind velocity had increased, blowing fiercely across the water. When a particularly strong gust reached the cottage, it made an almost eerie howling sound. Camy had gone out some minutes earlier and brought in all the cushions from the deck, along with smaller items that might be blown around in a stronger wind. She'd stacked them neatly out of the way in the laundry room. 

She also gathered together in the kitchen a collection of candles in holders and a box of wooden matches, in case the power went out. She shivered involuntarily at the thought. Camy wasn't easily frightened, but being all alone, in a blackout, in this large empty house on a cliff during a hurricane was rattling her nerves just a bit. 

After her shower that morning, she'd put on a simple summer dress that was one of her favorites. It was sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline that plunged low, revealing some rather flattering cleavage. The dress nipped in at the waist and then flared into a swingy A-line skirt that reached just above her knees. The print was of large, pale cabbage roses in shades of pink, rose and red. It was a very romantic dress and Camy always felt very pretty in it. She'd put on rather sexy underwear: a baby pink lace demi-bra paired with matching boy shorts. Camy told herself that she just felt like looking pretty - it wasn't because she expected Trip to stop by. Why would he? She asked herself. His parents were visiting and he'd want to stay there to spend time with them, after all. She rolled her eyes at her own reflection as she dabbed a little soft red gloss on her full lips. Pretty though the dress may be, as the temperature dropped and the storm neared, it was not the warmest choice. 

She went to the fireplace, and got it ready for a fire. She stacked kindling, paper and logs into place on the grate so that it would be ready to light if and when needed. The howling wind was starting to jangle her nerves. Music! That is what she needed. Camy found the cabinet that contained all the stereo and CD equipment, and turned it on. The FM station was already pre-set to a classical radio station. The room was filled with the sounds of Schubert's Arabesque in C Major. Camy already started to feel better. She picked up her book and curled up in a comfortable spot on the overstuffed, slipcovered sofa in the great room. She pulled a lovely knit throw over her bare legs and began to read.

She'd lost herself in a chapter of her book, when she was startled back to reality by flash of lightening followed a moment later by a loud, house-rattling clap of thunder. Rain began to fall in a massive sheet, pelting the windows and the surfaces outside. Camy looked at the mantle clock -- it had just passed 6:30. Debussy's Clair de Lune was playing on the stereo. Outside, it had become as dark as night, even though sunset would not come for another two hours. Camy marked her page, putting the book down, and walked over to the windows, drawing the small afghan around her like a wrap. 

The storm was starting in earnest now. The ocean roared outside and the high winds ripped around the cottage nonstop. Another blinding flash caused Camy to jump back from the windows. She started to count the "Mississippi's" like she did as a child, but had barely gotten to "two Mississippi" when the thunder shook the house. She walked back toward the sofa and turned on the lamps on the console table behind it. The soft glow of the lamps helped a little to dispel her nervousness. 

Deciding she needed a glass of wine, Camy walked toward the kitchen, only to freeze, a chill running down her back. The jarring alarm of the Emergency Broadcast System had cut off Debussy and blared across the room. The radio station was sounding the rather terrifying alarm reserved for messages about imminent emergencies. Camy clutched the blanket more closely around herself as she listened to the broadcast message. Hurricane force winds, thundershowers, heavy rains and potential flooding. Oh dear.

Saturday, 6:44 PM

Trip was throwing candles, flashlights, matches and batteries and a battery-operated radio into a duffle bag. His mother was seated at the kitchen table, watching him with the ghost of a smile on her face, her hands cradling a glass of Scotch. 

Trip caught the amused expression on her face and paused what he was doing. "What?" He demanded, running a hand through his wild hair for what must have been the twentieth time. 

"Nothing, dear. Just wondering if you have enough supplies there. Are you sure you don't need any C-rations, bandages, blankets, flare guns?" She smirked at him as she finished. His father barked in laughter from the living room. 

"Ha ha -- make fun if you must, but she's our tenant and is all alone up there. I'm just going over to make sure she's okay and that the cottage is buttoned down for the storm. It's common courtesy, Mother, I would think you'd appreciate that." He turned away to hide the flush that had crept into his cheeks. That was not lost on Meg.

"It's funny how whenever you're feeling defensive, my name becomes 'Mother'." Seeing Trip turn and prepare to protest, she held up a hand to stop him. "Relax, relax. Listen, my baby boy -- I think it shows absolutely lovely manners to make sure your summer renter is okay. I just think you should stop pretending that you don't view her as something significantly more than 'our tenant'. We saw how you looked at her this morning."




Rolling in the Deep



"Really? How did I look at her?" Trip was pretending to be recalcitrant, but the smirk was already forming on his mouth, though he endeavored to hide it.

"Like she was the fox and you were the hound." Meg crossed her slim arms, leaning back in her chair. 

From the living room, they could hear JT say: "I'd say 'fox' is right on the money, darling." Meg erupted in laughter as Trip covered his face with his hands, cursing under his breath.

"Your father made a joke, darling. C'mon -- show some appreciation." Trip was shaking his head, laughing as he walked through to the mudroom to grab a raincoat.

"I'm going. Barnaby has had dinner already so no snacks for him. And don't drink all my Scotch." He pulled on a yellow slicker, donning a baseball cap. He leaned back into the kitchen and added: "Call my cell if you need anything. I should be back in..." He paused, thinking, and Meg held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't make any promises you can't keep, sonny boy. We'll be fine here. Go. Say hello to Camy for me. Have a nice time and oh... Trip, honey... Be safe." She raised an eyebrow at this last point -- deliberately letting the double entendre hang in the air. Trip could hear his father laughing in the other room.

He groaned exasperatedly, and turned on his heel, banging the door shut behind him. The rain was coming down in torrents. He pulled the hood of the slicker up over his cap, and ran to the Jeep. He slid into the driver's seat as fast as he could and slammed the door, but still he was fully drenched from head to toe. Throwing his hood off, he started the Jeep and turned the front and rear windshield wipers onto high. It was lucky the house was just next door. The wind was blowing so hard that the Jeep was being rocked where it stood.

Trip eased out of the long driveway onto the two-lane road. He had to drive around a tree branch that had fallen across the road. As he travelled the quarter mile to the cottage, there was a bright flash and loud crack. All the lights went out. No Street lights and the lights in all the houses were out -- everything was dark except for Trip's headlights. He wasn't going to get there a moment too soon. It bothered him more than he cared to admit that Camy might be afraid. He realized that he just wanted to hold her. At least, that was one of the things he wanted to do to her, anyway...

He turned left into the driveway of the cottage and bumped slowly down the long pebbled surface. The cottage, as to be expected, was in total darkness. Trip parked the Jeep as close to the front door as possible, killed the engine and the headlights, and honked the horn twice to let Camy know he was there. Grabbing the duffle bag and pulling the hood up over his head, he sprang out of the car and ran to the front door. Just as he reached it, Camy pulled it open from the inside. He rushed in and helped her shut it behind him. 

"Are you alright?" He asked a little breathlessly. He could barely see her face in the darkness. 

"Yes -- yes, I'm fine. I can't believe you came out in this weather." Her voice was low and tremulous. She pulled him further into the foyer. A candle was burning in a glass holder on the center table. She must have brought it when she came to the door.

She touched his face in the candlelight. "You're soaked! Let's get you out of that coat and dry you off. I'll get some towels." Camy ran off toward the kitchen.

He dropped the duffle bag on the floor and shrugged out of the dripping raincoat. He hung it on the coat rack by the door, pulling off the cap and hanging it on the next hook. He kicked off his boat shoes, which were sopping wet, too.

Camy had returned with a couple of white bath towels. She handed one to him and he attempted to dry his face and hair. Feeling something by his feet, he stopped, pulling the towel away from his face. Camy was kneeling on the floor, using the second towel to dry his now bare feet and legs. She noticed his stillness and looked up at him.

The sight of her kneeling at his feet was too much. Trip leaned down and grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her up to her feet. He looked at her for half a moment, his eyes as dark as the night sky. He crushed her to him as his mouth swept down and took hers in a deep, almost violent kiss. His hunger took over as his lips nearly devoured hers. She moaned, her body falling against his. 

Half afraid that he'd hurt her, Trip broke the kiss and lifted his head to look down at her. Camy's head was tilted back, her eyes closed, her lips moist and parted. She took in a breath and slowly opened her eyes. She looked up at him wordlessly. There was an aspect of complete and total surrender in her expression. Trip wasn't sure what she was feeling -- if she was frightened or just surprised. 

"Please..." she began, her voice was husky and soft. "Do that again."

He groaned and pulled her back against him, kissing her as hard as the first time. She wound her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with a wildness that surprised and thrilled him. Taking hold of her hair with one hand, he tugged her head back and blazed a trail of kisses from her chin, down the front of her neck, stopping at the base of her throat where it met her collarbone. His other hand moved down past the small of her back to cup the supple curve of her ass through the thin fabric of her dress. Camy ground herself against him, she could feel his growing erection. 

Lightening flashed and the thunder rolled almost instantaneously. Camy shivered involuntarily, and Trip cupped her face with his hands. Looking into her wide, dark eyes.

"The storm is all around us..." She murmured. He kissed her lips more tenderly this time. 

Against her mouth, he breathed out: "I won't let anything hurt you, my Selkie." Flickering light from the great room drew his attention and he looked toward it. 

"I'd just lit a fire before you arrived." Camy told him, following his gaze. He drew her with him and walked through. The logs had begun to catch, and the fire was blazing through the paper and kindling. Apart from a candle burning in a votive on the kitchen countertop, it was the only light in the room. 

Trip walked over to the fireplace, moved the screen back and prodded the logs with a poker to ensure they were catching evenly. Brushing his hands off on his pants, he snatched up some pillows and throw blankets from the sofa, spreading them on the sheepskin rug in front of the fire. Camy smiled as she walked toward him, allowing him to lead her to the floor. She lay down on her back and looked up at him. Her lust for him was evident in her eyes. Trip was on his left side, his body resting against hers. He supported his head on an elbow and looked at her in the firelight. His right hand moved lightly over her, from her shoulders and bare arms, down her flat tummy and softly flaring hips, to her long legs. His hand slipped under the hem of her skirt. She sighed as the heat of his palm moved over her skin.

"Pretty dress." He said softly. She just smiled up at him as his head slowly descended. His lips found hers, gently probing at first, and then becoming more insistent. His mouth forced hers open and his tongue plunged inside, pushing and teasing her tongue, running a circular trail inside. She sucked on his tongue, loving the taste of him. His hand continued to caress her bare thigh, moving up to the edge of her lacey panties. His fingers slipped inside the leg opening, briefly slipping over her mound. She gasped into his mouth. He groaned and smiled against her as his fingers swept past her pubis once again, toying with the fine, trimmed hair at the top of her slit. He could feel how wet she was. A flash of lightening illuminated the room once again, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Camy whispered his name, arching her lower body up eagerly. He raised his head, looking down at her very seriously. Her eyes searched his, waiting for him to speak. There was a clap of thunder, making Camy snuggle closer to Trip.

"Tell me how to remove this dress. I'd hate to ruin something so sweet, but I need to look at you and I'm dangerously close to ripping it from your body."

Camy made an "mmm" sound as she turned toward him, and reached under her arm to unfasten the side zipper. "Here..." she murmured, as she showed him. He made quick work of unzipping the dress and scooping it up from the hem and lifting it gently over her head and off. He paused, looking over her. A tiny frown formed between his brows and his look was fierce as his eyes took in the pale pink lace bra and panties. There was another flash, bathing the room in light for a second. Camy couldn't know it, but her skin gleamed in the firelight and there was a sexy fragility to the pink underwear that nearly drove Trip mad. 

A roll of thunder sounded around the cottage, causing the floor to tremble a little.

She touched the side of his face, drawing his eyes back up to hers. Nervously she asked him: "What's wrong?" 

He took her face in both hands and ground out: "Camy, Camy -- you are the most beautiful woman. I wish you could see yourself as I do. I'm totally, completely bewitched by you." Without waiting for her to reply, he fell upon her and kissed her again, rolling his body on top of hers. His thighs forced hers open and one of his hands smoothed up the sleek skin of her thigh to slip under her panties.

Camy could not get enough of his sensuous mouth and couldn't seem to get close enough to his hard body. She began to tug his shirt up and over his head, and he helped her by moving up and lifting his arms. She exhaled audibly as she saw his lean, tanned chest and shoulders, running her hands along and down his body. She pressed her mouth to his neck, leaving little bites along with her kisses. 

She reached her hands between them and began to fumble with the button fly of his jeans. "Take these off, Trip, please." She purred impatiently. Trip allowed her to push his jeans to his hips then he took over and kicked them off the rest of the way. He was now clad only in black knit boxer briefs. She told him they were sexy. He took her hand and ran it across the front of his underwear so she could feel his nearly full erection underneath. 

"You're sexy. Here is the proof." She wrapped her hand around the hard length of him through the fabric, leaning down to place a series of kisses across his shoulders and down his chest. He growled deep in his throat as her lips and teeth grazed his nipples. 

"Your turn..." he said, as he reached behind her and deftly unhooked her bra. Sliding the straps off of her shoulders, he looked into her eyes as he pulled the bra from her body and tossed it aside. As if making himself wait, he held her gaze for another moment before he finally allowed himself to look at her. His face softened and his lips parted.

"Oh my Camy..." He whispered her name reverently. Camy felt a rush of liquid heat rage through her body at the look on his face. He stared down at the lovely perfection of her taut breasts. The nipples were set high on her firm round tits. The areolas were about the size of silver dollars and were a dusky rose color. The nipples were hard little points that projected jauntily in the center and were so deep in color they were almost red. He ran gentle fingertips across her left breast, moving back over it again to softly pinch the nipple between his finger and thumb.

"You have the most beautiful breasts, my Selkie." He murmured as his mouth came down and pulled the entire peak into his mouth. Her back arched and she clasped the back of his head to draw him even closer. His teeth lightly nibbled and then his tongue flickered over her and he created a tantalizing suction with his lips. He raised his head and looked down at her breast again, noting that his actions had further aroused and reddened her nipple. He puckered his lips and blew on the tip, causing it to stiffen further and making Camy cry out in pleasure.

"Kiss me, Trip." She begged. He moved over her and hovered a few inches above her, his mouth teasing hers by moving close enough to just brush her lips, but then pull back. She made a frustrated noise and curved up, wrapping her arms around his neck and head and pulling him down to her. Her mouth attacked his. Her tongue moved inside his mouth, pressing into his tongue until he couldn't stand it any longer and crushed her into the floor. She made a little triumphant noise as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and sank her teeth in lightly. 

When he could speak again, he whispered wonderingly: "God, you're making me crazy. I need to taste all of you." 

He began to kiss and bite his way down her body. He visited her right breast this time, making her moan with his expert lips. He traced her ribs and the muscles of her abdomen with the tip of his tongue, dipping into her navel before covering it with his mouth and kissing deeply. He moved further downward, running the flat of his palm across the front of her panties, appreciating the picture she made in the feminine lace. Glancing back up at her, he pressed his face between her legs, his mouth and tongue pressed into the now very wet crotch of those boy shorts. Camy groaned loudly with pleasure and allowed him to pull her thighs up and open for better access. She felt his teeth scraping her labia through the fabric, the moisture and heat of his mouth rivaling her own. His mouth pressed into the tender flesh of her inner thighs on either side of the panties. Camy was writhing with excitement and with her need of him.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them gently down and off, exposing her pubic hair and the soft, very wet folds beneath. He made a soft "ahhh" sound as he looked into the very core of her womanhood. 

His eyes found hers and he said: "You are perfectly beautiful. You're a work of art, Camy." Her eyes filled with tears and her head fell back on the pillows. She looked into the fire as she tried to regain control of her emotions. Trip flew back up to her side, gently cradling her head in his arms. His hands gently brushed at the errant tears that escaped. 

"Shhh... my beautiful Selkie... What is it?" She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself, unsure if her voice would even work. He stroked her face and left tiny kisses on her cheek and jawline, and finally brushed her lips with feather-light kisses.

"Please say what you're thinking. You can tell me anything -- do you know that? There's no way that anything you say could change what I'm feeling."

She looked back up at him, seeing the sincere tenderness in his eyes. A tiny sob escaped her as she took a breath. He pulled her tighter, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Please tell me, Camy." She put her hand on his cheek and turned her face into his neck, closing her eyes. She began to speak softly.

"Trip I'm forty-two years old, and I was married for ten years before my husband left me for another woman. Never before in my entire life have I ever felt, or ever believed, that I was beautiful. But somehow you make me believe it. I met you this morning and you have been able to make me feel something that I thought I'd never feel." 

She leaned back and looked up at him. Her dark eyes were shining with emotion. Her cheeks were rosy and still wet with her tears. Her lips were trembling and lusciously bee-stung from kissing. Trip's heart seemed to skip a beat as he looked at her.

She continued: "And I've never been this turned on by anyone, ever. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. How -- how have you done all of this?"

His mouth came down on those bee-stung lips. He needed to kiss her before he could answer. The way her mouth moved against his -- the way they seemed to answer each other with their kisses. He knew he was becoming addicted. Trip poured all of his passion and all of his burgeoning feelings into those kisses.

Finally, he broke the kiss, panting, and looked down at her. "You ask me how I've done this to you. I could ask you the same -- how did you do this to me? I am completely mad for you. Even my parents could see it. You should have heard my mother teasing me before I came over here. Oh... Meg sends her regards, by the way." He added wryly. Camy laughed out loud -- one of her sweet, husky laughs. Trip had to kiss her again.

When he lifted his head, he continued: "I'd be the proudest man in the world if I'm the one who makes you realize how amazing you are. But honestly, you were beautiful all along."

Camy reached up and pressed her lips to his. He deepened the kiss and they were soon rolling against one another. His erection was pressed into her hip. She reached down and ran her hand over it on top of the briefs, and then slipped her fingers inside his underwear to move her hand against the velvety hardness of his cock. He pressed her hand against his length and moaned into her throat. 

"Make love to me, Trip." She breathed into his ear; her tongue darted inside before she caught his earlobe in her teeth. "I need to feel you inside me." She pushed at his underwear, trying to move them off his hips. He helped her, tugging them off and kicking them away. 

"I'm definitely going to make love to you. In fact, I plan to fuck you senseless. But there's one thing I need to do first." He moved down her body, positioning himself between her legs. His fingers gently moved along the outside of her lips, gently pulling them apart. Her very dark hair was trimmed into a neat patch above the top of her lips. Trip looked at the pink wetness within. With his index finger, he gently rubbed the hood surrounding her clit. She cried out softly and another tiny trickle of wetness appeared at her opening. He dipped his finger into that wetness, and brought the glistening fingertip to his mouth, savoring it on his tongue as he made an "mmm" sound. 

Leaning forward, he held her open with one hand and ran his tongue from her perineum to the top of her slit. Camy's body jerked upward and she whimpered. Trip pushed his tongue into her opening as far as it would go, and began fucking her with it. His index finger flicked over her enlarged clitoris. She was writhing up against him, making a soft whimpering sound. He then pulled his tongue out of her sweet depths, lathing it up to the hard little button at the top. Her sharp intake of breath assured him of the success of this move. Gently tugging the flesh aside for better access, he began to flick his tongue across her clit. Camy was keening in pleasure, her hands clutching the blanket beneath them. Trip slipped his index finger inside her as he continued to tease her with the tip of his tongue. Her muscles contracted around his finger as he began to slowly fuck her with his hand. He added his middle finger and she moaned afresh, her body arching upward. When Trip knew she was close, he clamped his lips down around the top of her slit, pulling her clit into his mouth, and suckled her. Camy went rigid, her abdomen tightening as the muscles inside her vagina clenched and unclenched rapid fire. A fresh trickle of wetness flooded his fingers as she cried out in a low, husky voice. Trip savored the taste and fragrance and sound of her as she climaxed, seemingly in rolling waves, against his mouth and hand. Her body went limp, finally, and her ragged breathing echoed around the room along with the crackling fire. 

Trip gently extracted his fingers. She looked down at him in wonder, her hand pushing her wild hair out of her eyes. Never taking his eyes from hers, he slipped his wet fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. She murmured "Oh god, Trip." in an emotional, smoky voice. He looked at her swollen pussy, and ran the flat of his tongue along its length one more time, gratified by Camy's scream of surprise. Her body shook with tiny little aftershocks.

He moved up alongside her, brushing her hair back. The strands around her face and neck were damp. Her eyes were huge in her face, her pupils dilated. She reached up for his face and pressed her mouth to his. He knew she could taste herself on his lips, but she didn't seem to mind. He pushed his tongue inside and rolled it against hers. Camy was moving her hand down his chest, past his abdominal muscles, to his rock hard erection. 




Rolling in the Hay



I could not believe my eyes when the black pick up truck drove up to the farm house and their grand daughter hopped out. I had just turned sixty and wanted to get away from my old routine and decided on an adventure-- "why not," I said and two days later, took off. I had been working my way west in my beat up Subaru and answered an ad for a temporary farm hand on a little cattle farm outside of Joplin, Oklahoma. I was hired to help with the haying.

Her grandfather told me his grand daughter was coming to work for the weekend but I had no idea she would be so hot looking. I was by the barn hitching the hay wagon to the truck and had to stop when I saw her run up to the front porch to greet her grandparents. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans that were so tight it was amazing they didn't split as they strained over her round ass. She had on an equally tight red t-shirt that stretched across her nice sized tits. I couldn't take my eyes off of her luscious ass and took a deep breath and said to myself, "Man, I'd like to get in her pants."

I wasn't certain how old she was but I guessed in her early thirties. She wore her blond hair in a pony tail which gave her a younger appearance. I knew I was much older than she was but that didn't matter to me—when I see a nice sexy body, my reaction is no different than when I was twenty—my cock twitches and I shake my head and hear my voice go, "mmmmmm—now ain't she nice." I have to admit I have a thing for younger women. 

I watched her hug her grandparents and chat for a minute and then she and her grandfather came over to me by the barn. I could see she wasn't wearing a bra because her tits jiggled and I could see the small peaks of her nipples through the tight shirt. 

"This is our grand daughter, Charlie," her grandfather said. I nodded and shook her hand, "Glad to meet you, my name is Arn." 

She smiled and had the cutest dimples, but then quickly looked away and seemed tense. I could tell she was shy and uncomfortable around people she didn't know but sensed that underneath her quiet manner was a sensual, passionate woman who dressed provocatively and liked men to look at her body—and what a sexy body. 

Her grandfather said, "The hay is all cut and dry but you two will have to bale her up and bring it back to the barn." He looked up at the sky and said, "It suppose to rain later today so you'll have to work fast to get her in." 

"Well, the wagon is all hitched up so we're ready to go," I said. 

"Good," her grandfather said. "I'll be in the other field cutting down the Timothy

so I'll see you all at lunch." 

"Hop in the truck, Charlie. Let's get started," I said, smiling at her. 

"Just a minute," she said and ran to her truck and came back wearing a cowboy hat

that somehow made her look even sexier. I was already in the truck when she got in and smiled at me, "Okay, I'm ready."

We took off and Charlie was quiet as we drove out to the field. I glanced over at her

and could feel she was tense. She looked out the window, her arm on the opening.

We didn't speak but a few times she turned to me and our eyes met and then she quickly looked away again. I think she liked being in the truck with me but her shyness made her tense and apprehensive. I wanted to get her to relax.  

"Nice folks, your grand parents. I'm glad I got this job," I said, trying to break the ice.

"Yeah, I love them and I like coming out here to visit and help," she answered, looking at me then quickly turning away. 

I kept looking at her tits in the tight t-shirt and thought how I would love to reach over and fondle them and could feel my cock getting hard. I knew I wanted to fuck her but wasn't certain how I could get past her shyness. 

"So, Charlie, do you have a man in your life?" I asked, looking over at her. 

"No, I don't," she answered, glancing at me then back out the window.

"I'm surprised," I said. "I'd think a sexy woman like you would have guys chasing after you." 

She blushed when I said that. 

"You're blushing," I said. 

"I'm not used to men saying I'm sexy," she answered. 

"Well I think you are," I said, looking at her and added, "very sexy." 

"Thank you," she responded and looked at me. Our eyes met and again she quickly turned away. 

I could tell she liked my saying that but she just looked straight ahead. I was hoping that by letting her know I liked how she looked and making little sexual comments I would penetrate her shyness and reach the sensual, passionate woman I sensed was lucking there. I guess you could say I was slowly trying to seduce her.

When we reached the spot where the hay was cut, I stopped the truck and we both hopped out. I went to the back of the truck and got the big ball of twine we would use to tie the bales. I threw her a pair of gloves and put mine on.  

"Let's work together," I said. "We'll make up the piles of hay and then you'll hold them in place while I tie and cut the twine with my penknife."

Charlie nodded and we got to work. We worked smoothly and quickly and I could tell she was used to this kind of work. We kept glancing at each other and I tried to get a conversation going, but she answered in short sentences. Still, I could feel there was something in the way our eyes met that made me know she liked being with me. I told her where I was from and how I happen to be in the area and saw the ad. 

She nodded as I spoke, "So you like adventure," she said. 

"Yep, nothing like a little adventure to put some spice in your life," I said, smiling at her.

She nodded and our eyes met again. "Maybe that's what I need—a little adventure,"

she said, smiling at me then looked away. 

We then continued working and neither of us spoke for awhile, but I was certain she was beginning to relax with me. She gathered up the piles of hay and held them tightly while I tied and cut the twine. 

"You're really good at this, Charlie," I said. "I like strong women," I added. 

"You do, do you?" she said and smiled at me. "And why do you like strong women?" she asked, our eyes meeting. She was relaxing and getting a little playful.

"I think it's sexy and strong women are usually passionate and I like passionate women." 

Charlie didn't say anything but just held the hay bale in place while I tied. After a moment I added. "I have a feeling that behind your shyness is a passionate woman."

She didn't say anything, but blushed, her whole face turning pink. 

You're blushing again," I said. 

"I guess I'm not used to this kind of conversation," she said. 

"So do you think you're a passionate woman?" I asked. 

"Yes," she said. "I think I am but I don't have much opportunity to be passionate," she added. 

"I also think you're sexy," I said looking into her eyes. "Do you like men looking at you?" I asked. 

"Yes. I like it," she answered. "I like when guys look at me." 

I looked at her tits noticing how they stood out as her t-shirt clung to her sweaty body. She knew I was looking at her tits. 

"Do you like how I am looking at you?" I asked. 

"Yes," she answered, smiling shyly but beginning to enjoy this conversation. 

After that exchange, we were both quiet as we continued working. 

A few times our hands touched as she held the hay bale and I tied. "We're getting to be a pretty good team," I said. Again our eyes met.

Within an hour and a half we had tied up about fifty bales and left them in their spot as we moved on. 

It was getting hotter as the sun got higher and both of us were sweating. I stopped and took out the piece of towel I had in my back pocket and wiped my forehead. Charlie did the same, taking off her hat and wiping her face. Both of our shirts were wet with sweat and again I could not help but look at her tits as the shirt clung to her body, making her nipples stand out even more. Again, she saw me looking at her tits and our eyes met but neither of us said anything. 

"How about a five minute break," I said and sat down on the last bale we tied. 

She sat down next to me. There wasn't that much room on the bale and our thighs accidentally touched, but neither of us moved. 

"Sure is hot," I said, looking at her, noticing how strands of her blond hair stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. She tugged at her tight t-shirt, pulling it out to let some air in. 

"Yeah," she said, looking at me and then out at the field where more cut hay lay. She then looked up at the dark clouds and pointed. "Looks like we're going to get some rain soon, we better hurry."   

"You're right," I said, nodding and stood up. I then surprised her by standing in 

front of her. I grabbed both of her hands and I pulled her up off the hay bale. When she stood up, our bodies were close. Our eyes met and for a minute I kept hold of her hand. I smiled and suddenly felt the urge to hug her and wondered if she would resist. 

Suddenly, I made a bold move, not sure how she would respond and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me. She gasped but didn't push me away. I then quickly moved my hand down to her round ass and held her to me, pressing my hard cock against her. She still didn't push me away but let me hold her.

Our eyes were locked on each other's eyes and I started grinding slowly, wondering what she would do. I continued slowly grinding against her with my hands holding her ass and she didn't stop me but started to slowly grind with me, spreading her legs slightly. I was surprised she responded like that and knew I was right-- she was a very sexual woman underneath that shy exterior. 

Her ass felt so good in my hands, so soft and luscious—and somehow the thin denim of her tight jeans straining on her round ass added to the sensation. I leaned back slightly and pressed my hard cock against her pussy and we continued to slowly grind a little harder, both of us moaning softly. She also leaned back slightly and pressed her pussy harder, moving up and down the length of my cock. She then surprised me by grabbing hold of my ass, pulling me to her, our grinding growing more intense. We looked into each other's eyes, both of us moaning as we rubbed harder against each other, our grinding turning into humping and I knew I had broken through the ice and now had this hot sensual woman in my grasp. She was breathing heavily as we humped harder and harder against each other.

Suddenly, she pushed me away, panting heavily. Her face was flushed and I could tell she liked what happened, but then got scared and backed off. "We better get back to work," she said, looking into my eyes. 

"You're right," I said. "We better or we won't get this hay in before it rains." My cock was still hard as I looked at her and she glanced at the bulge in my jeans. 

We quickly got to work but it was clear what had just happened would continue later. We didn't say anything as we worked, but clearly there was anticipation building. Both of us were quiet as she piled up the hay and I tied. She then went and began forming the next pile. We had a good rhythm going. 

While we worked, we glanced at each other, our eyes meeting. I could not take my eyes off her round ass in the tight jeans when she bent over and how her sweaty t-shirt clung to her body revealing her tits and nipples. 

We worked hard for the next two hours as the sky grew darker. "We better get the hay in the wagon and back to the barn," I shouted. 

"We only have a few more bales," she said. "Go get the truck and wagon while I get these bales." 

"Okay," I said. "I'll be back in a few minutes." I looked up at the dark clouds 

then ran back past all the tied up bales of hay to get the truck. We would have to work quickly to load up the truck and get back to the barn before the rain. 

I drove up around the baled hay to where Charlie was waiting and turned the truck so it was facing the direction of the barn. I got out and we started loading up the hay wagon, working our way backwards. I was impressed with how strong she was as she lifted the bales I tossed to her and she walked toward the front and piled them up. 

When we loaded one area, I would get in the truck and drive another fifty feet and start that routine again. We worked quickly and soon had the wagon almost filled with the hay, but we had more to do. 

"We better hurry," she shouted as we both looked up at the dark clouds approaching. 

"We'll make it," I shouted as I tossed a bale to her and she added it to the pile. The wagon was practically filled and wouldn't hold much more. 

Finally I threw her the last bale which she put on the stacked pile and then jumped down out of the wagon. I caught her as she fell forward and I pulled her down on me as I fell to the ground and she straddled me. Though she was surprised at first when I grabbed her ass she leaned over me and immediately started moving her pussy back and forth over my hard cock.

I had my hands on her ass, urging her on. I loved how her ass as she pressed her pussy into my hard cock. 

Suddenly, she was moving harder and harder, no longer shy but now was letting her sexuality loose. "Oh Fuck!" she said as she rocked back and forth on my cock. "This feels so good."

I was surprised at how she had suddenly turned from a shy, quiet woman into an inferno of passion as she ground her jean covered pussy against my hard cock. She put her arms over my head as she rocked hard against me and looked into my eyes, "Oh baby, I want you to fuck me hard!"

I have to admit I didn't expect things to happen so fast but I was happy that I had uncorked the real Charlie and that this woman was more than ready for action. 

"You want this hard cock, don't you," I said.

"Yeah, you know what I want," she said looking into my eyes as she moved back and forth on my cock.

"And you want my tight little pussy, don't you," she growled as she moved harder against me and moaned. Charlie had turned into a vixen and I liked it. 

Suddenly, we felt rain drops as we lay on the ground fucking each other through our clothes. We kept going at it ignoring the first few rain drops. I then pushed her off of me and got on top of her, spreading her legs. I humped her as she lay beneath. I looked into her eyes.

"You're going to be my little slut, aren't you," I said as I pinned her to the ground.

"Maybe," she said, smirking at me. "If you think you can handle me."

"You'll find out later how I can handle you but now we better get this hay in the barn."  

I pulled her up and we smiled and looked into each others eyes. We then hopped into the truck and I drove down to the barn, driving pretty fast, both of us burning with lust. At the barn, she hopped out and opened the barn door and I backed the hay wagon in before it really started to come down. The truck was outside, but the hay wagon was in the safety of the barn. We would lift the bails into the loft later but now the hay would be dry.

I saw Charlie's grandfather driving the tractor and mower down from the other field. He saw that we had backed the wagon into the barn and waved. He parked the tractor down by the house, got out and ran up on the porch to get out of the rain. He then turned to us. 

"Good, you got her in just in time," he shouted through cupped hands. 

Charlie stood in the barn's entrance and waved. "We're going to unload the wagon when the rain stops!" she shouted. 

"Good work!" her grandfather shouted then went into the house. 

Charlie looked at me still sitting in the truck. She stood in the barn's entrance and yelled at me, "Get in here, Mister."

I hopped out of the truck and dashed for the barn, getting a little wet. She smiled and then walked slowly over to a ladder that went up to the hay loft, swaying her hips as she walked, knowing she was teasing me. She then turned and leaned against the ladder. facing me and said, "If you want me, come get me!" She smiled and then started climbing up the ladder, her round ass straining against the tight jeans.

I followed and climbed up the ladder to the loft. There were several hay bales at the other end of the barn. Actually, I had my sleeping bag up there because that's where I was sleeping. It was rolled up in the corner of the loft and I shouted, "Welcome to my bedroom."

It was pretty dark in the loft and the rain was beating hard against the roof, but there was dim light coming from the open loft door and the barn door below. Charlie dashed towards the other end of the barn and then turned and faced me as I moved towards her. Our eyes were locked on each other as she backed up, luring me to her. Neither of us spoke as I moved closer to her. She was now backed up against the wall between two piles of hay bales. She then put her hands on her tits and started playing with them as she leaned against the wall. 

Watching her rub her tits like that was getting me turned on and she knew what she was doing. "You want to fuck me, don't you?" she finally said. 

All inhibitions were gone as we were now like caged wild animals wanting hot raunchy sex. Raw unbridled lust was in the air as I moved towards her, our eyes locked on each others eyes. She looked at my cock bulging in my jeans. I then grabbed my balls, as she played with her tits, our hungry eyes locked on each other's eyes. 

"You want this big cock, don't you?" I said as I stood in front of her, holding my crotch as she held her tits in her hands. 

Suddenly I was in front of her. I grabbed her arms and turned her around roughly and pushed her hard up against the wall. I spread her legs slightly and rubbed my cock against her ass. I quickly grabbed one of her tits with one hand and gripped her pussy with the other one. 

"You're a little cock tease, aren't you?" I growled into her ear.

"Yeah, I am," she growled back. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"You're asking for trouble, baby," I said as I held her pussy and tit and ground my cock into her ass. "I'm going to fuck your brains out," I said. 

"You are, are you?" she said, turning her head towards me. "You think I'm going

to let you fuck me," she added. "You think you are in charge of me, do you? You 

think I'm going to give you my pussy?" 

"I know you are! I'm going to take your pussy," I said, grinding my cock into her ass, moving my hand up and down her pussy as I held it firmly. "I'm going to own your cunt," I added. "You're going to me my fuck slave," I said, growling into her ear.

"You think so, do you?" she said and started to squirm and buck me off of her.

I grabbed her tighter. "Where do you think you re going, you little whore!"

"Let go of me, you bastard! You can't have me! Let me go!" she shouted, squirming and rubbing her ass harder against my cock. I grabbed her pussy tighter, moving my hand against her as she squirmed, trying to get away. 

Suddenly, I turned her around and threw her down on a hay bale and pounced on her. I spread her legs wide apart, my cock bulging in my jeans pressed against her pussy, her tight jeans stretched tight against her crotch. I pinned her arms over her head, my mouth just above hers and looked into her eyes. 

"Let me go, you bastard! Let me go!" she screamed, squirming and bucking beneath me.

"You want this cock, don't you," I said as I began to grind and hump her.

"NO! GET OFF OF ME!" she screamed. 

"Shut up," I said and put my hand over her mouth. "You don't want your grandfather to know what a slut you are," I said, holding her down, my other hand holding her arms above her. 

She squirmed, trying to talk through my hand. I was humping her harder now, my cock grinding into her pussy as she squirmed underneath me. 

"I want you to beg for my cock. I know you want it bad," I said. 

"No way, you fucker!" she said when I took my hand away.

"I know you want it," I said and got up on my knees and lowered my jeans and took my cock out and held it in my hand over her pussy. She looked at it, her mouth wide open and her eyes looked at mine. I then quickly unbuttoned her jeans and lowered the zipper. I moved back and pulled her tight jeans off. She was squirming as I peeled them from her body then I practically ripped her panties off, looking down at her dripping pussy. I grabbed her legs and pulled her slightly forward so that she was lying on the hay bale with her feet on the floor, her legs wide apart. 




Rolling in the Hay



"You're going to beg for my cock before I'm through with you," I said as I got down between her open legs and placed them over my shoulder and quickly lowered my mouth to her pussy, moving the flat of my tongue hard against her wet pussy and began lapping her juicy pussy up and down from her ass hole to her clit. 

"OH FUCK!" Charlie shouted as my tongue licked against her clit. "OH FUCK!' she repeated, her head thrashing from side to side. She then put her hand on my head, pulling at my hair as my tongue licked her pussy, going deeper with each lick. She lifted her ass off the hay bale pushing her hungry pussy harder against my mouth screaming, "EAT ME! OH BABY! YES! YES! EAT MY PUSSY! DON'T STOP! OH FUCK!"

Her screaming was urging me on and her pulling my hair and lifting herself against my tongue made me know what a hot, wild sex loving woman she was. I then found her clit and started sucking on it, gripping it with my lips as my tongue licked it, causing her to shudder and shake. She screamed. "OH BABY! DO THAT! YEAH! YEAH! OH BABY!" 

I put my middle finger in her tight pussy feeling it grip my finger as I moved it in and out. She was thrashing and bucking so hard, it was all I could do to hold on to her clit as she was out of her mind. I could hear the slurping sound of my finger going in and out of her wet tight pussy as my tongue licked her clit. I then entered a second finger and then a third, loving how tight she was as I devoured her clit. I curved my fingers and rubbed her g-spot and that took her over the edge as she bucked and screamed, "OHHHHHHHH FUCK I'M CUMMMMMMING! OHHHHHHHHH HERE IT COMES," she screamed. Her whole body shook violently as a huge orgasm swept over her. I kept my fingers rubbing her g-spot as spasm after spasm caused her to orgasm again and again as she continued screaming, "OHHHHH YES! OH FUCK! YES! OHHHHHH BABY DON'T STOP! DON'T STOP!" she yelled, pulling my hair as her cum gushed all over my mouth and fingers. 

By now my hard cock was a red hot pole, but I was determined to give her the fucking of her life. Behind me was another hay bale. I suddenly pulled Charlie up, gripping her ass in my hands and sat down on the hay bale with Charlie straddling me. I wrapped my arms around her as she came down hard on my cock causing her to scream, "OH FUCK! YOU'RE COCK IS HUGE!" she yelled as I filled her tight pussy with one thrust. 

"The height of the hay bale let her keep her bare feet on the ground so she could lift her self up and come down hard on my cock. It was if her feet were in the stirrup and she could stand up and come down hard on my cock. RIDE ME!" I yelled as she came down hard and lifted her self up and came down harder as if she were galloping on a wild horse, her hair flailing. 

"OHHHH BABY! RIDE ME! RIDE YOUR STALLION! RIDE ME, COW GIRL!" 

She still had her tight t-shirt on and I could see her tits bouncing underneath as she rode me hard. Suddenly she grabbed her t-shirt, pulled it over her head and threw it in back of her. She then leaned back slightly and put both hands on her round tits and started rubbing them. As she leaned back, arching her back, she quickly moved one of her hands to her clit, rubbing as my cock filled her tight pussy. As she leaned back, her feet still on the barn floor, I loved watching my cock going in and out of her dripping pussy as she played with her clit, my hands holding her ass. I could not imagine a hotter sight as we fucked each other with such abandon. 

"I'M CUMMMMMMMING," she screamed as she rubbed her clit and my cock filled her pussy. "OHHHHHHHHH BABY! BABY! THIS IS SO GOOD! I LOVE RIDING YOU LIKE THIS.! OHHHHHH FUCK ME, STUD!" FUCK ME!" She was crazed with lust as she screamed, 'OHHHHHHHH FUCK! I'M GOING TO CUM AGAIN. I'M CUMMMMMMMMMING! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK! I'M CUMMMMMMMMMING!" she screamed, looking up at the ceiling of the barn. Her whole body shook violently as spasm after spasm rippled through her causing her to shudder and then go limp as I held her. 

I knew I wasn't going to last much longer as this wild fucking and her screaming was driving me insane. I quickly lifted her off of my cock and pushed her to the hay covered floor. She was on her back, her legs spread wide apart. I got down on my knees between her legs. Our eyes locked on each other. 

"TAKE ME! USE ME! RAPE ME!" she screamed as I hovered over her, my cock just above her dripping pussy. I was crazed. My cock was so hard. I knew I could not hold back much longer. 

Her screaming was too much for me and I reared back and in one hard thrust, my cock went all the way into her tight pussy, screaming, "FUCK ME! FUCK ME! YOU LITTLE SLUT!"

"YEAH FUCK YOUR SLUT. FUCK YOUR COCK LOVING SLUT!" she yelled, instinctively knowing that her dirty talking would drive both of us over the edge. 

I pulled all the way out and then rammed my cock deep and hard screaming, "GIVE ME YOUR PUSSY! GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE ME YOUR CUNT!" I screamed as I pounded her harder and harder. 

'YEAH! FUCK YOUR LITTLE WHORE BITCH!" she screamed. FUCK ME!" 

This was the raunchiest, hottest fucking I had ever done and I couldn't believe what a wild passionate woman had been unleashed. She pulled her legs up to her chest, her round ass off the hay covered floor giving me an angle that let me come down into her pussy with even more power. My balls bounced against her ass and my cock rubbed against her engorged clit with each thrust. 

"HARDER! HARDER!" she yelled. RAPE ME! TAKE ME!"

'"YOUR PUSSY IS MINE!" I screamed as I rammed my cock deep and hard."YOU'RE MINE! YOU'RE MY FUCK SLAVE, AREN'T YOU?" I shouted. YOU WANT THAT DON'T YOU? TELL ME YOU WANT TO BE MY SLAVE!"

'YES! YES! OHHHHHH YES! JUST FUCK ME! FUCK YOUR SLAVE! FUCK YOUR WHORE SLAVE!" she screamed. 'FUCK ME HARDER. FUCK ME WITH THAT BIG COCK!" she yelled. 

I pulled out and rammed my cock harder and faster, ramming her harder with each thrust and suddenly felt I was about to explode as I felt my cock begin to swell and get larger. "OHHHHHHHHHHHH BABY I'M CUMMMMMMMING! OHHHHHHHHHHHH CHARLIE, CHARLIE! I'M CUMMMMMMMMING!"

"GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE ME YOUR CUM! SHOOT IT IN ME!" she screamed as I fucked her harder and faster. 

Just before I exploded, she screamed, "OH NO! I'M CUMMMMMMMMMING TOO! I'M CUMMMMMMMMING! DON'T STOP! DON'T STOP! KEEP FUCKING ME!" 

Just then as if a dam had burst, my cum erupted and gushed out of me "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! BABY! BABY! BABY!"

I yelled as my cum filled her pussy. Both of us were screaming as our orgasms 

crashed into each, driving both of us over the edge of sanity.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFUCK" she yelled at the ceiling as she shuddered though another huge orgasm. 

We had both cum together and then I collapsed on her limp body as she stretched her long legs on both sides of my body. I lay on her unable to budge, my deflated cock still in her pussy, both of us gasping desperately for air.

The rain was pounding ring on the roof of the barn as we lay there. Finally, I lifted my head and looked at her beneath me. Our eyes met and we smiled at each other. We didn't speak as we were both trying to catch our breath and comprehend what had just happened. 

"Do you think your grandparents heard us?" I asked. 

"Nah! They wouldn't hear us with this heavy rain and they probably think we were waiting for it to slow down before running to the house." Charlie said. "Also they're both hard of hearing."

I laughed and then rolled on my back and got Charlie to lay her head on my shoulder. We looked up at the ceiling and listened to the rain.

"That was a pretty wild roll in the hay," I said.

"It was," Charlie responded. "I've been helping my grandparents bring in the hay for many years," she said, "but I never had a helper like you before." 

"Well, I never expected to meet anyone like you when I answered that ad for a hired hand,." I said. "That just goes to prove it's good not to have expectations," I added. 

"Why?" Charlie asked."

"Because when you don't have expectations, you are never disappointed and often you are surprised—so I try never to have expectations," I said, looking at her.

"Well, what do you expect will happen with us?" she asked. 

"We will see," I said. "I have no expectations."

It had stopped raining and we lay there in the dim light of the hay loft. I got up on my elbow and looked down at her. I smiled and pushed a few strands of her blond hair back off of her forehead and kissed her there and then on her lips. 

"Let's go down to the house and get some lunch," I said. "We still have to get this hay into the loft this afternoon, if it doesn't rain."

We got dressed and climbed down from the loft and stood in the entrance of the barn next to the hay wagon. I took Charlie in my arms and held her close. We kissed tenderly and walked quietly down to the house. Before we entered 

I said, "Remember, no expectations---we still have the rest of the weekend and who knows what surprises await us."

Charlie smiled and shook my hand as if we had made an agreement. "That's a deal," she said. "No expectations."



Rolling in the Meep



(In order to have more character development, not every chapter will have sex in it, I thank everyone for their patience and hope you all enjoy the story :D 




It was one of those long days, the kind where you woke up before the sun rose and you didn't get back home until long after it went back down. 

Nikki had woken up on Friday for her eight am marketing class, after that it was a short break for twenty minutes, barely any time to do anything except start on one of her group projects before it was time for more classes, this time three in a row. That's what I get for wanting to graduate in time, Nikki thought grumpily to herself as she munched on a muffin, trying to eat and take notes at the same time.

Then after that she had a shift bartending at the bar downtown, The Wild Horse. It was a crazy night with a rowdy crowd, Joe the bouncer had to throw quite a few people out before the end of the night. It was a tiring night but when she exited the bar she could help but grin, because who was waiting for her in an old beat up jeep but her best friend Elena and her girlfriend Amarisa. 

"Hey guys!" She said as she headed for the 4X4 that Amarisa had stepped out of to greet her. "Ugh don't, I'm all gross, some guy spilled beer all over me." She said as Amarisa moved forward to hug her. 

"That's ok." She was quickly pulled into a tight hug by her taller girlfriend, and she couldn't help but let out a happy sigh. 

"You're sleeping over for the weekend right?" Elena asked as Nikki and Amarisa piled into the backseat, snuggled up to each other happily. 

"Yeah of course, wasn't that the plan?" Nikki asked, cuddling up to her girlfriend. Amarisa was giving her little kisses on her neck and she was making it hard to think. 

"I'm not letting you go home, not after I haven't seen you for a week." Amarisa purred into Nikki's ear. Nikki closed her eyes in delight as she cuddled up to her lover. 

Nikki had met Amarisa at a lake while camping during spring break last year. What was special about this seemingly normal love story was that Amarisa was no ordinary woman, Amarisa was a mermaid. After saving Nikki from drowning during an afternoon swim, the beautiful, dark turquoise lake creature had been curious, and they had meet up again that night. 

That was when they explored each other's bodies and Nikki discovered that Amarisa, while appearing female, was also able to produce a large, human-like cock from between her legs. It only took a few more secret meetings before the two lovers were caught by Elena, and that was when Amarisa had her first threesome. Unfortunately spring break ended and Nikki returned to school, leaving a very broken hearted Amarisa alone at the lake. 

The next part of the story Nikki learned from Amarisa and Elena, after Amarisa had miraculously found each Elena again. A strange mermaid ability that even Amarisa didn't know about allowed her to transform into a human, she had found a piece of paper, a map with one point at the lake. It was one of the Googlemaps print outs that Elena had brought with them on the trip, and with the address on the other end Amarisa only had to find people willing to pick up a naked hitchhiker and then she was on her way back to Elena. 

It was a small van of Korean girls that had saw the naked woman hiding behind a bush and waving, and concerned, they had got out of the van to see if they could help. Amarisa could not speak English, but they saw the map and probably figuring that she was a foreigner, lent her some clothes and then gave her a ride to Elena's apartment. It had already been a few weeks since spring break, and it took Elena a moment to recognize the brunette woman. Amarisa had immediately asked to see Nikki but it was nearing final exams, and Elena knew that Amarisa would've been too big of a distraction. By the time Nikki was done her exams Elena had taught the keen mermaid how to speak. Somehow, being with Nikki and Elena had allowed Amarisa to learn the English language a lot fast than normal...

"We're almost here, Nikki." Elena called, waking Nikki up from her half-slumber. Cuddled safely in Amarisa's arms, Nikki yawned and looked up at familiar tall building. Elena and Amarisa lived in an apartment downtown, and Nikki lived on campus. With work and school she didn't see her girlfriend as often as she liked, but they always made time for each other on the weekends. 

"We ate out at La Rive Gauche today, help yourself to some fricassee and poutine if you want." Elena said once they got to the apartment.

"Thanks, I'm going to take a shower first and get out of these dirty clothes." 

"Alright, have fun you two." 

Nikki had just barely got the bathroom door closed before Amarisa was kissing her, peeling off her tight tank top to expose her bra. "Mm, glad to know you're happy to see me." She said with a moan, pressing her body up against Amarisa's. Soon the rest of their clothes found their way onto the floor, and she leaned back against the bathroom countertop to admire her girlfriend's body. Even in her human form Amarisa was smoking hot. She didn't have long to appreciate Amarisa's body, because the eager mermaid was soon pressing her lips against hers again, her hands squeezing Nikki's buttocks. Nikki groaned and squeezed Amarisa's perky tits, rubbing circles around the dark nipples.

"I've missed you." Nikki whispered happily as Amarisa guided her into the shower. Hot water splashed down her back and she let out a happy sigh as Amarisa started sudsing her up with the loofah. "Oh god that feels good." She closed her eyes, rolling her shoulders as her lover massaged away all of her aches from the day. 

"I've missed you too, so much." She heard the soft voice against her ear, she turned around to kiss her on the mouth, insistent. "Are you sure you're not too tired?" Amarisa asked, groaning when Nikki cupped her semi-erection. 

"For this? Never?" Nikki said with a smile, stroking her to fullness. She loved the look on Amarisa's face when she touched her, she leaned back against the shower wall, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Nikki let one hand rest on Amarisa's flat stomach while the other hand had the pleasure of palming her girlfriend's large cock. 

She loved the feel of it, silken softness wrapped around steel, the beautiful peach color and the large tip. With a groan Amarisa pushed her hand away, pressing her up against the shower wall to kiss her. Nikki spread her legs to let Amarisa move in close, rubbing their breasts together, feeling the large cock rub up against her pussy lips and her clit. There were a lot of bonuses that came to Amarisa learning to speak, one being that their sex went from being great to being amazing. Her heart pounded faster as Amarisa kissed her way down to her stomach, then making her way lower. 

"Oh baby." She gasped as Amarisa tongue lapped at her folds and her sensitive clit. "A little lower...ah god." She moaned as she felt her lovers tongue against her entrance. She let out a happy shiver as Amarisa inserted two fingers into her hot center, soon she was panting as she quickened the pace. 

"Please, baby, I want you inside me." She moaned. Her beloved never made her wait long, soon she felt the big tip against her entrance as Amarisa entered her. They both groaned in unison as they joined against each other. She wrapped her legs around Amarisa's waist as the vivacious mermaid thrust into her. 

In Amarisa's arms, every thought she had just melted away. She soon felt herself on the precipice, nearing her climax. "Oh Amarisa." She gasped; closing her eyes as her lover's eager thrusts quickly brought her to her orgasm. She felt Amarisa tense against her for a moment and they held each other tightly. Finally they let go of each other and let the water wash over them. "I love you, Nikki." Amarisa said. 

"I love you too, my beautiful mermaid." Nikki said breathlessly.

They dried off and Nikki got ready for bed, exhausted but very happy. "Are you coming to bed?" She asked as she headed for Amarisa's bedroom. 

"In a few minutes." Amarisa promised as she gave her another kiss. Nikki pouted, but nodded. 

Amarisa headed to the kitchen, where Elena was. She looked at the center island which had a bunch of cut vegetables on it. Elena was stirring something in a big pot, and it smelled delicious. And no doubt it would be when it was completed, Elena was an excellent cook. Amarisa moved past to the patio, stepping outside. It was late out, and so most of the apartments across the street were dark, but past that, moving on to the right, she could see the large park nearby, surrounded by thick wood. 

A deep longing filled her, a discontentment that she didn't understand. She was happy with Nikki, she knew that in her heart, and even the thought of not being with her pained her greatly. So why wouldn't the feeling go away? She let out a huff of annoyance. After a few minutes Elena came out to join her, she leaned against the railing quietly, looking down at the street. "Is something wrong?" She asked. 

Amarisa frowned. "I don't know." Elena didn't rush her for an explanation, so she thought for a few minutes, trying to put her feelings into words. "I feel...unhappy." 

"Is it about Nikki?" 

"No." She said quickly. "But I feel...a need. A...longing." She looked over at Elena, who was deep in thought, frowning. 

"So, what were you making?" Amarisa said, changing the subject. 

"Oh, it's just a beef stew; it should be pretty good by tomorrow." 

"Sounds good, looking forward to it." Amarisa said. Just then the screen door creaked as Nikki made her way out onto the patio. She was wearing one of Amarisa's big sleeping shirts, and from the way her nipples stood out against the blue fabric, nothing else underneath. "What are you guys up to?" She asked casually, copying them and leaning against the railing. 

"Just chatting." Amarisa said. She cuddled up to Nikki, who smiled warmly at her. 

"Yeah, Amarisa had some stuff on her mind." Elena said. 

"Oh? Like what?" Nikki kissed the top of Amarisa's hand as she listened. 

"Oh...well, she can tell you." Elena said awkwardly, excusing herself and returning to the kitchen. Nikki watched her go back inside, a little longer than necessary. Amarisa held her close happily, turning her around so their bellies could rub together, a very intimate act between mermaids, since their stomachs were very sensitive. " I was waiting for you, and you didn't come back to bed." Nikki whined. 

"I'm sorry, let's go back to bed now." Amarisa said. They went back to her bedroom after saying goodnight to Elena and Nikki watched as she made the bed comfortable for them. Nikki jokingly liked to call it "making the nest", because Amarisa would fluff the pillows and make sure the blankets were nicely tucked in around Nikki before getting in bed herself. She did however agree that it made the bed much more comfortable for some reason. 

"So what were you two talking about?" Nikki persisted, snuggling up to Amarisa as she dimmed the lights. 

"Mmm...just trying to figure things out, like why I feel a strong need for something. I don't know what." She shrugged, and Nikki frowned. An uncertain look crossed her features. 

"It's not about me, is it?" She asked quietly. 

"No. Nothing like that." Amarisa smiled and Nikki relaxed as Amarisa pulled her close, giving her a kiss on the lips. "I love you so much." Nikki said, hugging her mermaid tightly. "I love you too." Amarisa said. She held the woman she loved fondly, petting her hair until she fell asleep.