Emily Fingered On The Beach

This is a sequel to "Emily: Seduced on the Foredeck", but you don't need to have read that to (I hope) enjoy this story.

*****

Can rebound sex really come with no regrets? Does life ever work so smoothly?

We lay intertwined on the cabin top. His arms surrounded my naked flesh as my head lay alongside his; face down into the mat, turned just enough for my breaths to be filtered by the delightful salty tangle of his hair.

I could feel the still hardened jut of my nipples pushing into his chest, his manhood, firm and elongated but not yet turned again to hardness, bent down along my leg, pushing against my thigh. Our bodies were moving subtly against each other as the boat lifted and fell to the gentle swell; reawakening an arousal that had just consumed itself in a fire of passion.

I didn't really want to get up. It would break the moment; make us confront the question of what happens now. Was it just a spur of the moment, meaningless quickie or the start of something? Do we talk about it? Act like nothing happened? Assume we are now a couple?

Normally it's so easy. A number of dates, a slowly building trust and bond. Always testing; giving enough, a little bit more each time, but not so much as to feel too exposed. Then, and only then, comes the sex; at a time somewhere along the path that leads fondness to love.

Impulse sex with a friend just seems so complex. There is no doubt I could fall for him. Maybe I already have. He said he's had a crush on me for years. Does that mean he's ready to fall in love with me too?

What do I ask him? Are we dating now? Are we lovers? Still just friends; maybe with benefits? Will he suddenly see me as some silly, emotional, clingy, woman and be repelled?

It was Adam who broke the moment.

"Emily. I think we've gone well past Long Reef. As much as I'm enjoying holding you, if we don't want to go to Norfolk Island instead of Pittwater, I think we'd better get up."

I eased myself off him; suddenly aware of the uncomfortable feel of the leg seam of my bikini pants riding up into the folds of my womanhood. Ten minutes ago it had been soaking wet with my juices. Now, as I had enjoyed the feeling of my pussy being warmed by the rays of the morning sun between my legs as we'd laid post coitally, it had dried to a stiffened, less pleasant covering.

I hovered over Adam in a sort of downward dog position, my nipple inches from his lips, as I readjusted it to sit more conventionally. Then I stood up, legs astride Adam's thighs. To my right, my bikini top and his tee shirt lay where they had been tossed in the throes of our passion.

Below me his pants surrounded his thighs, the deep v of his open fly exposing his manhood. Released from the pressure of my thigh and perhaps with the extra stimulation of our interaction as I stood up, it had achieved sufficient rigidity to bring itself up to bisect his stomach; the used condom hanging off the end of it.

I offered him a hand to help him up; his pants falling to his ankles as one of his hands held mine and the other pushed his weight up.

Silently we got dressed, or at least as dressed as a mere bikini would let me; Adam offering the condom to the ocean before pulling his pants back up. Returning to the cockpit, he cancelled the auto pilot and turned the boat for Barrenjoey Heads.

Retrieving my bag and gear, I joined him in the cockpit; standing next to him, my hands wrapped around his forearm as he held the wheel. After an awkward mutual silence,

Adam found the courage to speak up.

"I wasn't lying when I said I've always had a crush on you Emily.

I don't know what you want, but if it's a relationship, I'm more than willing. But more than anything else, I don't want to lose your friendship."

I snuggled into his arms.

"A relationship would be nice."

I'm wasn't entirely sure what relationship meant; but then probably nor was Adam. Dating? Certainly. Sex? Yes. Love? Let's not rush things.

We chatted in a way we'd never been able to as part of an eight man racing crew. Ideas, histories, attitudes and stories were all exchanged in an easy and often humourous flow of information.

Too soon we turned into Pittwater, heading South towards the club's Marina and its waiting berth. I wasn't ready yet to bring the day to an end.

"Let's stop for a swim and a bite."

"Where did you have in mind?"

"That little beach just around the corner from Longnose Point."

"I don't have any swimmers."

I've never understood those who don't always associate boats with swimwear. Normally I wear a bikini under whatever else. But at the very least I bring one. He could go naked for all I cared, but I wanted to offer a solution.

"Dad's got an almost new pair of speedos he keeps for emergencies like clearing a propeller. I know he's only worn them once and washed them after. Will they do?"

Adam nodded. "Sure, why not?"

I don't even know if this beach has a name. It's just a sliver of sand inside a National Park; not even a walking trail gets you there. So, except for visiting boaties, it very private; and on this day there were no other boats.

Using the depth sounder, Adam edged the boat in as close to the beach as we dared before dropping the anchor, then I waited while he went down to change.

Dad's swimmers - which were actually a pair of Ripcurl Sluggos - were probably a size too big. The leg hems fitted closely enough, but the waist had bunched up material from where Adam had tied up the drawstring and the front provided, shall we say, ample dangle room; more so as the waist tended to dip at the front to the point that the top of his pubic hair was quite exposed. It was good enough.

Dropping the swim platform, we dived in and swam for the beach.

For me the swim was more a case of freshening up and cooling off than wanting to set any marathon records. Adam and I alternatively breast stroked and over-armed towards the beach; the act of swimming barely interrupting the conversation we'd been engaged in ever since Adam had raised the issue of a relationship.

When we got to the water's edge, we lay holding hands, side by side, in the shallows, still talking. The low gradient of the sand meant that - as long as you were willing to submit yourself to gritty hair - you could lay back with your head in ear deep water while the wavelets just pleasurably lapped your groin.

It was amazing. For most of the eight years I've known him, Adam and I have exchanged an easy and almost constant banter on the boat. Yet, like onions, we'd only revealed to each other the first layer of ourselves. Now the layers peeled off in a constant flow. It was like a moment of passionate sex had opened an express door all the way into the bottom of our very souls.

We might not have agreed on everything, but the mere ease of talking to him left me falling deeper and deeper for him. Inevitably those feelings were accompanied by a sense of arousal; by his proximity, by his near nakedness as we lay side by side, even just by the warmth of his hand. My bud was swollen, my nipples tightened and pushing up the gossamer wet material pathetically attempting to cover them.

I lifted my head to look down along his body. I wasn't alone in my arousal. His hardness had returned, long, thick and bisecting his stomach; the excess material of dad's swimmers was clung around it like a glove, hiding nothing except the colour of the naked flesh.

Mid-sentence, I rolled over on top of him, laying my legs outside him, covering him like a blanket, moulding my body to his and kissed him; almost consuming him with the passion of it, my tongue thrust deeply down his throat. His hardness pushed firmly into my groin; surging against it, as my bud was pleasured by the contact.

With his arms around me, holding me to him, we pashed. The pashing of lovers. We didn't need to paw each other or thrash about. It was like our communication through words had been replaced by a direct transfer through our lips and tongues; just my head moving ever so slightly as I explored deeper and deeper into his throat and he into mine, my hand caressing his face.

Lower down, the wavelets moved our torsos ever so slightly, washing me up and down on his hardness, exciting my bud no less than I'm sure it did his manhood.

Adam rolled us over, placing my back in the water, lying on his side half over me as we continued kissing. His hand drew a line up my thigh, over my hip, across my stomach and made a beeline for a nipple already raised to a hard jutting peak. His finger circled it, touching through its thin covering the full circumference of its erogenous surface as I arched my back in pleasure; pushing my hip against the unyielding firmness of his manhood.

My heart was racing; palpitating in my arousal.

His fingers slipped off my breast, back down my stomach, across my navel and touched the waist band of my bikini. He slipped a finger minimally under it and traversed my stomach, first to one hip, then the other, teasing me with the promise of a touch to come. I squirmed against him; unable to control my anticipation, my hand around his neck still capturing his mouth in an increasing desperate attempt to consume him.

Withdrawing his finger from under the waistband, he ran the back of his finger down the centre of my bikini, using the hard surface of his fingernail to create a moving point of excitement. He paused at the turn of my mound; making me wait, not letting my forlorn squirming bring forward the moment of contact.

Then in a single co-ordinated movement, he brought the full width of his hand firmly against my groin, rubbing my swollen anxious bud in a circular pattern as he brought his mouth over my nipple and assaulted it vigorously with his tongue; swirling the material of the bikini top across it.

I let out a groan that was closer to a scream, then another and more as I bucked under the effect of his sudden pleasurable onslaught; my legs and hips flailing wildly in the water, splashing and making waves that washed against his body.

Desperately I grabbed at his manhood; wrapping my palm around its still covered flesh and started jerking it.

I was helpless. Electric charges of ecstasy surged through my body; taking control of it, rendering me almost unable to function. My blood was roaring in my veins.

His hand slipped inside my pants, flesh on flesh contact with my impossibly sensitive bud, still circling it. His teeth gingerly separated my bikini top from my nipple and pulled the former aside, his lips and tongue now playing directly upon the tightened reactive hardness of the bare jutting nipple.

On the edge of whatever control I had, I fumbled for the drawstring of his pants, pulled it and got my hand inside, grasping the unyielding flesh of his hardened manhood, jerking it even as my body flailed under his pleasure assault.

Even though wet from lying in the water, the skin of his erection was grippy and lacked lubrication. He'd been humming pleasure into my ear before I stuck my hand down his pants. Now he'd gone silent. Taking my hand out, I wrapped his hardness back in the wet Lycra of the swimmers, sheathing it and using its smooth, wet velvety texture to provide a slippery movement again; jerking it more vigorously, knowing the movement would be transmitted all the way down to his balls. Immediately he was humming and groaning again; maybe more loudly.

Suddenly he froze. Then I felt his manhood pulse as he pumped out his load, filling my dad's swimmers with his seed; grunting loudly into my ear.

My own orgasm was wound tightly inside me, ready to spring and unravel me from the inside out. I was about to come, I was so close.

I felt that hot rush and the mounting energy as his relentless tongue urgently fluttered and flicked at my nipple as his fingers circle my bud with increasing speed and pressure. All I could do was shut my eyes and arch my back in extremis, shuddering as I exploded, moaning to the sky; an undulating feast under him, my breasts bouncing, my nipples hard, as his tongue and fingers worked their magic to press the last convulsions from my needy sex.

Collapsing back into the water, I lay there spent; eventually giggling at the performance I'd just delivered.

Adam wasn't going to let the performance go uncommented on.

"I thought you told me you don't usually scream during sex."

"Yea, well, you're going to have to register those fingers as lethal weapons. Anyway, it wasn't really a scream this time; just really loud moaning. And at least I didn't cry."

"Any louder and they would have heard you over in Avalon."

"Still, you should be flattered. I hope you can continue to deliver to the same standard."

"Ah, now, that's a challenge."

I sat up next to his still reposed body. Peeling the swimmers off his now flaccid manhood, I swirled water through the inside, flushing out his cum where it was sticking to the material, having to actually brush it off where it refused to budge - maybe trying to fertilise it - but getting a partial swelling of his cock in response.

"What's your dad going to think of that?"

"Nothing that a good wash won't fix."

I tucked him back in, tying the bow; although by the time I was finished it was seemed anxious to escape again.

It was time to swim back to the boat for lunch.