Marti's Unexpected Beach Visitor

My name is Marti. I'm 37 and I want to apologize in advance to readers who like much longer stories. But give me a chance. I had an action-packed experience that includes fury, surprise, agony, and toe-curling ecstasy.

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I'm sitting alone on a Gulf Shores ocean-view beach lounger. Of course, it is a brilliantly sunny day with wispy white clouds. I am wearing a small yellow bikini and I look amazingly good for my age. Okay, you're likely thinking, 'here comes another tired old MILF story'... Well sorta. Hang in there, though.

There is an empty lounge chair beside me. Ordinarily, this lounge chair would have Charley in it, but the son of a bitch divorced me last year and ran off with Bambi or some fucking name like that. So the empty lounger was mostly coincidence -- a little hope, no plan.

As you would expect, I was on my stomach, sunning my already nicely tanned, nicely curved body. My straps are undone; I'm possibly a little high, possibly a little horny; and of course. I suddenly saw two manly-looking feet in the sand beside my chair's sidearm.

A deep but youthful voice says, "May I sit and talk for a moment, ma'am." I stay on my stomach but twist my upper body around so I can squint toward the sky and see who has intruded on my space. Of course, I am aware that in all likelihood I have carelessly exposed my entire right boob, but that turns out to be irrelevant.

I scanned north up a wonderfully youthful, wonderfully muscled body, And my eyes came to rest on a face that could be on a U.S. Airforce recruiting poster. Short, precisely-cut sandy hair. Deep blue eyes, Sharply angled cheek and jawbones. I judged him as maybe 25 years old, tops.

I made a fairly serious attempt to cover my tit, but mostly I was having an 'alternate universe' moment. Guys like this don't just show up, but there he was. Still, I maintained my hard-earned, Charley-inspired cynicism toward all things male. I mumbled something uncool like, "Not much happening here, take a load off your feet."

The young man sat, about mid-lounger, facing me. I decided that I had spoken truth in my not-much-happening assessment, so I thought 'what the hell?' I prepped my unstrapped bikini top for a turnover and positioned myself facing seaward, perpendicular to the young man but our faces were well positioned for eye contact.

There was a short silence while he seemed to be studying me thoughtfully. I broke the silence in all-out salty mode, "I suppose you're peddling those damn coupon books that are everywhere."

The blue eyes met mine. He spoke quietly but with an odd strength. "No ma'am."

"Okay, you're going to convert me to the Church of Beautiful Souls or some damn thing, right?"

The eyes were strikingly blue, piercing. "No, ma'am"

"So do tell, young man. What would you like to discuss?"

The eyes remained deep blue, but I could see a different intensity. "I would like to fuck you this afternoon, ma'am, right away if you have time."

My mind spun. What the hell do you say to that? Of course, the right answer is to loudly declare that you are outraged and he'll be in jail by nightfall if you need to report his ass to the beach patrol. But here's what my mind did. It visualized my asshole ex-husband planking Bambi on numerous occasions IN MY BED! And as a relevant side issue, my body said to me, 'It has been a long time, babe.'

So being a strong woman who wasn't going to adventure timidly, yet feeling a need to project some sensuality, I shifted to a mild version of the southern drawl of my ancestors. "Why yes, young man, Ah would be willin' to discuss that possibility."

He smiled, but nothing like I expected, and said, "Cool."

I missed the meaning in his tone, "Why thank you," I purred, still in drawl.

His face turned red swiftly and his expression turned from youthful strength to deer-in-the-headlights fright. "No, I mean, yes it would be great to, but oh shit, I really messed this up."

Needless to say, I was confused, I was embarrassed, and --as always-- I was totally pissed off at Charley without whose wandering prick this fucking lounge chair wouldn't have been empty in the first place.

I steadied myself and simply asked, "So what's cool?"

He had steadied himself, too. "Ma'am I most definitely think you are cool, but when I said it at first I meant, 'Cool, my professor said this would happen.' He then looked at me with an expression of shy delight. "This assures me a B-plus in the course."

It was not a good moment for me, but I'm fairly tough and have been around the track a time or two, I wasn't ready to accept total humiliation and defeat, so I hung in there.

"A salesmanship course, right?"

"Yes, ma'am, 201 at State."

'Yep,' I said to myself, 'ain't this a kick in the ass?' But I vowed to stay in the game. "And your professor said, 'Talk to enough people and someone will say yes' right?"

His face lit up. He looked at me like I had the gift of wisdom from on high. "Yes! That's exactly what he said."

I processed fairly quickly that I was part of the setup for an old, old joke. [Punch line, if by chance you've missed it: 'Yes I get shot down a lot, but you'd be surprised how many fucks I get.'']

Now when our eyes met, there was a new level of rapport. I said, "Would I be right if I guessed about the reason you're in a hurry today?"

Again, a steady and strong gaze. "I imagine so, ma'am.'

"Okay, here's my guess. You get an assured A in the course if I..." I paused to observe him. His gaze was unwavering, his confidence had returned and a half-smile played at his lips.

"Yes ma'am." The smile broadened. "And if you can squeeze me in early... into your schedule I mean, I won't need to be in a hurry... ma'am."

They say that words can kill. His last sentence or two, along with a killer smile, put me flat on my back. Of course, I was pretty close to an assured lay already, but he finished me off with a flourish.

I said, "How 'about we resume this class in Room 1302. Knock in thirty minutes."

"I'll be there, ma'am."

"Tell your professor that he's a genius."

"I will ma'am. He's taught me a lot."

"By the way, I'm Marti, what's your name?"

He gave me the smile that I would learn to love even more, beginning 30 minutes later. He mimicked my southern drawl: "Why Miss Marti, Ah thought you'd nevah ask?"

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His name was Austin, He went on to become a hugely successful Apple sales executive. But for three and a half hours on that wispy-white-cloud summer day he was mine-all-mine. I'll spare you a long paragraph of moans and 'oh Gods' and 'I'm cumming screams', but I will say that I was not only on my back, I was on my side, I was bent backward, bent forward on hands and knees, bent over the back of a couch (for a playful bare ass spanking), and I rode him like a cowgirl. I will further say, appreciatively, that for a 24-year-old, he had a truly talented tongue.

One last thing. My only regret is that I didn't have video to send to my asshole ex-husband. Not to be vindictive, but I wish Charley could have seen my face when a guy way younger than him and way bigger than him and with ten times more stamina was making me scream.

AND HE DID IT OVER AND OVER, CHARLEY,

I WAS BEGGING, AND SCREAMING, AND CUMMING,

OVER AND OVER, ALL AFTERNOON,

YOU MISERABLE SACK OF SHIT!!

Okay, I'm calmed down. Austin is an awesome memory and I'm glad I seized the moment -- and that I let the moment seize me!