Sex on the Beach

The parasoled plethora of florid foreigners and their puny offspring
playing maniacally in the pebbled shallows, held little appeal. Instead
they flip flopped past the ice-cream sellers, down the shifting dunes
and around the crumbling cliffs in search of a little piece of paradise
on a Sunday afternoon.


It was easy to leave the holiday hordes with their humid haze
of Ambre Solaire Factor 25 behind. All they wanted was easy access to
the shade and the bar, so there they congregated, like flies round
shit. This appalled Rob and Lisa, all they sought was calm. Somewhere
to lay out their towels, put their books on the sand and relax.
Somewhere their teenage kids couldn't find them, their mobile phones
didn't work, where the sun would shine uninterrupted by Frisbees and
soggy dogs, kissing their skin with gold, washing their troubled minds
with content.


After a while the crowds thinned and the shrieking subsided.
Soon the smooth sand became rougher, rocks and stones forming craters
in the beach, making the holiday landscape more lunar, less user
friendly than before. Other childless couples had claimed small
pockets, building barricades with cooler bags and clothes, their patch
of sand laid out like a table waiting for its feast.


The comfortable, companionable stroll was beginning to gall
in the heat, the gaps between occupied spaces were now long enough, so
Lisa picked her place.


"Here'll do, not too far from the sea, I can put the wine box
in the shade just there, put my towel, here. Mmmm.
Lovely."


She sank to the sand, laying back, stretching out her fingers
and toes, then relaxed with sigh.


Rob rolled out his towel, removing his baggy blue tee shirt
and fashionable shorts with too many pockets, and then shaping them
into a pillow. He adjusted himself inside his slightly less fashionable
swimming shorts saying,


"Get your kit off, I'll do your back."


Lisa glanced furtively at the couple clinging together in
their crater several yards behind.


"Do you think I should take my top off?"


"Course! You do in the garden, why not here? Nobody will
see."


"But we're middle-aged. My tits sag. We've got teenage kids!
Do you think I should? Rob? ROB, what you looking at?"


She followed his stare.


"Stop staring." She hissed. Then blinked and started staring
too.


"What? Are they?"


"Yuh!"


Rob screwed his eyes up to get a better look.


"Rob, are they, sh-, are they, b-, are they - doing
it?"


"Oh yes, they're doing it."


"Rob! Look away. Stop it! Just ignore them."


Reluctantly Rob turned his eyes to the envious green
sea.


"Cor, fancy that." He murmured to the waves.


"Stop it! Here, rub some oil on my back, then read your book.
Behave!"


Slowly Rob untied Lisa's black bikini straps, carefully
laying them by her side. He flipped open the bottle with his thumb and
drizzled a pattern of brown fragrant oil on her already glistening
back, painting patterns with his fingers as he massaged her skin,
inhaling the sensual mix of her light summer sweat and the baking sand.
He pressed harder with his palms, moving his hands swiftly from her
shoulders to her full round buttocks, timidly caressing the virginal
white skin hiding beneath the large, black lycra pants. She groaned
contently as he stroked the small of her back.


" Mmm, that feels good!"


From the corner of his eye he could see the lovers moving
together on the sand. There was no mistaking their erotic
rhythm.


"We've never done it outside." He thought. "All these years,
and we've never made love on a beach. The kitchen once or twice, then
there was that time in the car? She's not bad looking still. Not
exactly a sex goddess. Always had a great arse though. Still got it
after all these years. When she? Then I ?If only I could?" So his
thoughts strayed on, and his curiosity hardened.


Lisa watched the couple through her lowered lashes. Her
nipples hardened - there was a quickening low down and deep that she
hadn't felt for a while. She was always too busy, too tired, too
stressed for sex these days; it didn't seem to matter any more. But
here, on this beach, with people walking by, how wicked was she willing
to be?


"Oh - my - God! Look at him. Second thoughts, don't."
smaned Rob.


Lisa turned on her side, forgetting to fasten her
top.


He'd appeared from behind a yellow umbrella. He was short,
naked, with the body of a baby warthog, all round and hairy. And he was
dancing. Gracelessly he pirouetted on the sand, his tiny genitals
flaying like anguished rodents. Then he leapt, arms outstretched in a
clumsy ballet, stomach bobbing to earth several times more than his
feet.


Lisa and Rob lay transfixed. First in horror, then in
contained amusement, and finally in hysterical, stifled laughter. The
man didn't notice. Instead, he frolicked down to the sea, threw his
arms in the air and wiggled his hips as fast as he could, before
leaping in and out the frothing waves.


"Perhaps its dick stretching exercises." Whispered Rob, tears
of mirth running down his face.


The matinee continued for several minutes more. Then Rob got
bored and wished a seagull would crap on his head. But it
didn't.


"Once you've seen one - what a sad git!" He smirked, as he
picked up his book.


Rob's thoughts of sex on the beach were forgotten, his eyes
grew heavy as he struggled to read the heavy black print and soon his
head lolled to one side, mouth dribbling slightly. It was quiet, the
whoosh of weary waves, the distant cry of seagulls, the balmy summer
sun, soothing, restful, relaxing. Just what they'd
wanted.


His dream of soft feather beds and furry teddy bear slippers
suddenly changed. Something was happening. What was it? He knew he
liked it, but he couldn't quite work out where he was. How he'd got
here. Suddenly he gasped, as if coming up for air. Now he was
awake.


Lisa still lay on her side, her head cradled comfortably in
one hand, but she had moved further down and for the first time in
their married life was giving him a blow job without the aid of 5 Tia
Maria's and a chicken Tikka Masala. He thought his head would explode.
He couldn't wait. He pulled away quickly, mindful of her teeth, the
caps were a bit loose, and pulled her gently to him. Kissing her, he
tasted himself on her lips.


"That's nice." He thought.


Deftly, he pulled the heavy black lycra of her pant leg to
one side and thrust himself into her in one swift move. She came
straight away. Arching her hips towards him, biting desperately on his
hand to stifle a scream. It hurt, but he couldn't hold out. His load
spurted out, and he was done. He had come.


They held each other for another second more, then lay back,
Lisa's bare breasts sagging slightly to her armpits. She sighed,
wondering why she felt disappointed.


"Well. That was - nice."


"Yes, that's what I thought. Nice."


"Fancy a curry tonight?"