There's a beach near where I live. Not a sandy nice sunbathing beach, it's rocky and there are tangles of dead wood and driftwood along the water, and 50 feet inland there are not-quite-cliffs. They're just dirt, but held together with roots and stuff so in a pinch you can climb them. If, for example, you judge time wrong and the tide starts coming in before you've gotten to the parking area. Then you have to scramble with some haste, or you'll get a soaking. And the water is COLD.
It's beautiful though, plenty of rock pools and interesting stones. Really fun to wander, not in any hurry, poking around for critters, finding pretty pebbles. There are a couple of places where there are ledges halfway up the cliff face and you can sit and dangle your feet, have a picnic if you were smart enough to bring one.
I've no idea if it's still there, but a loooong time ago, about half a mile down the beach, there was a spot where a big tree had fallen. The tide had scooped out a hollow at the base of its roots, and driftwood and stormwrack had collected over time. The result was a sort of natural lean-to, with a flat sandy floor and walls and ceiling of tangled branches. Big enough for two, even lying down, as long as they didn't mind being very close together.
I would take you there. Bring my awesome waterproof picnic blanket that folds into a pillow with a handle, a bottle of something to drink, some nibbles, an extra blanket or two. Check the tide chart ahead of time (made that mistake once and that romance didn't survive the dunking. We'd stroll hand in hand down the beach, on a chill day - foggy, maybe a light sprinkle, anything that would keep the families and metal detectorists away.
Make our way to the spot, set ourselves up a picnic on my blanket, wrap the others around us to keep in our body heat. Have a drink or two, feed each other whatever we've brought. It's private and romantic, the sound of the surf drowns out the freeway noise on the other side of the bluffs.
You tuck my hair behind my ear and I shiver slightly. You tip my chin up to look into your eyes and ask if I'm cold. I bite my lip and shake my head no, as another tremor sweeps over me. You lean in and kiss me, hand cupping the back of my head, pulling me toward you. Your tongue flickers out, grazes my lips, which part in invitation. You pull back a bit, breathing heavily, and caress my neck and shoulder, then slide the strap of my top off my shoulder and run your hand down my arm to my hand.
This brings you back in close, and you kiss me harder, deeper, bearing me backward, supporting me with the hand that led the way. I pull you with me as you lay me down, refusing to break the kiss. Your weight is half on me, half to the side, and you push yourself up, looking down at me, my hair fanned out around my head, getting sand in it.
I stare into your eyes, unblinking, my pupils dilated slightly, and you can't look away. We stay like that for who knows how long, until I unconsciously touch my bottom lip with my tongue, just the slightest movement, but it draws your attention. Then my mouth is all you can think about and you can't help but kiss me, tongue more insistent, lightly catching my lip in your teeth. Your hand moves up to cup my breast, squeezing, grazing my already tight nipple with your thumb.
My breath catches and I arch up into your hand, making a small sound into your mouth, which drives you even wilder. Your hand roams my body, you can't get enough, need to touch all of me. You pinch one nipple, the other, down my side to my hip, grabbing, pulling me toward you, almost frantic.
You tear your lips from mine and look at me for a moment, breathing hard, eyes wild, lips red and swollen, before falling on me again with a groaned "God, you're fucking beautiful!" Kissing my neck, biting, sucking. There will be marks there later, claiming me as your property, but now there's only the smoothness of my skin, the slight hint of my sweat, the sound of my reaction in your ear.
My hands are moving on your body too, never still, stroking your chest, shoulders, arms. Clutching and pulling, searching for a way into your clothes, needing to feel your skin. You pull back just long enough to rip your shirt over your head and drop it in the sand. My hands resume their frantic exploration, scratching now. Your skin is hot and smooth and your muscles are strong beneath. Your hand moves down my waist and struggles with the button on my jeans.