When I got to the top I was already soaked. My shirt was practically see through, cold nipples poking through. I scanned the beach and saw we were, in fact, alone. "See?" I said. "There's no one else here." And then "thank god, they'd get an eyeful," I said, gesturing at my fairly obvious breasts in the soaking button down.
"All the better," he smiled. "I get you to myself." Then he turned and kissed me. Not a peck. A full-on, full mouth kiss. Like he was ready to devour me. It left me flustered and confused.
A hand cupped my ass, squeezing and I pressed into him, feeling the heat flush up from the pit up my stomach. I caught my body reacting to his nearness and said, "If you wanted to fuck, we didn't need to drive forty minutes to the coast. In the rain." But I was smiling now. It wasn't a real complaint.
"Sure," he answered. "But then I couldn't do this." He grabbed me in his arms and started waltzing me across the dune. He brought me in close enough to whisper in my ear. "Sure we can fuck at home, but here we have all the dunes to ourselves. We can dance in the rain. We can make love on top of each one, if we want."
He held me back at arms length and then smirked while undoing the top two buttons on my shirt. Then, pulling it up and off, he added, "and as there is no one else here, we don't need these clothes at all."
Soon we were giggling like teens, rain water rolling down our faces and over our exposed chests. His hands were back on my ass, his mouth sucking the dripping rain water off my breasts. My hands found his half-hard cock and squeezed and I felt his groan through the mouth on my nipple. He stepped back to pull his jeans the rest of the way off, but I refused to let go.
I moved forward, a half step up the dune to gain a little height and reach his lips again, and he stumbled back from the shift in our weight. I ended on top of him, one leg between his two, my hand still wrapped around his cock.
I tried to climb the rest of the way on top of him, wrap my legs around him, and the sand gave way underneath us, sending us sliding half-way down the dune, laughing.
"I'm gonna ride you like a boogie board," I giggled and clambered to get on top of him. His foot found a root or something to keep us from sliding further.
I was wet and ready, and not from the continuing rain, and he slipped inside me, warm and firm. I did indeed ride him, though, perhaps, not like a boogie board. But I don't think he minded. His moans and groans and little encouragements suggested he didn't mind at all.
I moved up and down his shaft and he pushed up into me with each of my down thrusts, grinding his public bone into my clit, as he liked to do, knowing it drives me wild. He kept one hand on my breast, holding it up, a finger brushing the nipple, sending little chills down my spine.
With the other, he grabbed my hand and stuck one of my fingers in his mouth, getting it wet with his spit. And, not incidentally, removing the bits of sand that had stuck to it. He pushed my hand toward where we met. "Make yourself feel good," he said, turning his head to the side to spit out the bits of sand.
Like a good girl, I did as I was told. He grabbed my other hand and we interlocked out fingers, as I rode his cocked and rubbed at my clit, cresting a hill higher than the dune we were fucking on.
"Can you... can you cum," he gasped out.
"Please," he asked when I nodded, unable to form words.
His spare hand had moved to my hip as he drove up into me, using the root to gain purchase and really thrust up in the way that always hit my exact spot. My mouth was open wide, gasping for air and inhaling the rain.
"Close. So close. So fucking close," I babbled, and he nodded his encouragement. His mouth and eyes were wide, trying to hold out for me.
And we came. I felt him. Felt him throb and twitch and then I was spasming, collapsing down on his chest, taking huge gasping breaths of air.
We lay still for a moment or two, and then I whispered in his ear, "well... that's my kind of picnic." He started to laugh. A laugh of amusement, celebration, relief.
We stayed there another hour and made love again, this time closer to the water. We never saw another soul and the rain never stopped.
Sure, I spent the next week finding places bits of the dune found to hide, but I never regretted the trip. Not least because, after all the stress and worry and disappointment we'd experienced in the prior year in trying to become parents, just eight-and-a-half months later, we met our perfect daughter, Sandy.
