Plum Island Refuge

Rise 'n'Shine

Brether and Nelle Adger awoke to the blessed sounds of ocean waves and sea birds and the crisp clean scent of salt air. They had rented a rustic and secluded cottage on the far southern end of Plum Island to escape the rush and pressures of life in Boston. Brether was a very successful venture capitalist, and Nelle was a well-respected psychologist in private practice. Intense during the inordinate hours they put into their professions from September through July, they had decided, to recharge their professional batteries and reconnect as a couple, that they would vacation for the entire month of August.

Although they both slept in the nude at home in their Back Bay brownstone, when they got to their cottage,

Sea Turn,

they shucked their designer clothes and went nude all day as well. Nelle had insisted on this. She felt it was physically and psychologically freeing. It was what they needed and why they were there. Nelle and Brether would not even put clothes on for company.

"If you want to come visit, then you must abide by our standards," they would say to family or friends who thought that they might stop by. "If that makes you uncomfortable, then we will see you when we are back in town."

Too much of a Bohemian idea for most of their conservative New England friends, they rarely had to play host and hostess, except to good friends, Anne and Drew Foster, which suited them just fine.

Sea Turn,

after all, was their place to escape from it all, indulge their hedonism and practice the writing craft that both of them enjoyed, but that none of their friends knew about, under the pennames of

Ellen and Herbert Edgar

.

Not yet adjusted to "island time," they awake at their usual early hour of 5:30 AM and decide to do what their always-busy schedules and exhaustion usually preclude...have sex!

The golden glow of the early morning light on the whitewashed board and batten walls of the bedroom gives everything an ethereal quality. Rolling over to face one another, Brether kneads and nuzzles Nelle's tits and begins to suck her nipples while she fondles his balls. Throwing off the light sheet that had covered them against the nighttime chill, they adjust their positions to be 69.

"God, Breth, I love August! I miss this relaxed intimacy so much when we're working," she says before consuming his cock down to the balls.

"Me too, Nelles, me too."

Nelle has spread her thighs so that he can look at her bare Brazilian waxed pussy. Her moist labia glisten. He likes to take his time to look and see and smell and run his finger up and down her slit, teasing her.

His playing drives Nelle wild with anticipation. She thrusts her hips forward in an effort to bring her dripping pussy closer to his mouth, but he persists with his finger-play on the outer lips.

In an effort to take her mind off of his maddening tease, she begins in earnest to eat his hardening length to fullness. Before it is fully erect, it is easy for her to take it all the way down to the balls, to which Brether responds audibly. Nuzzling his sack and tonguing his length soon brings his cock to its full potential. As usual, it grows so large that Nelle can no longer take it all in; so she uses her right hand to help her mouth; and, pacing herself, she deep-throats it at a variety of unexpected intervals.

"Oh, Nelles, your mouth is so good," Brether croons. As Nelle has become more turned on by her penile ministrations, her labia flattens out, she spreads her thighs more widely, and her slit begins to part slightly of its own accord. It is then that Brether begins his play in earnest.

Wetting his forefinger with her flowing juices, he makes slow firm circles around her clit. His cock in her mouth, Nelle moans as he stimulates her. He likes to watch her sweet bud swell. At just the right moment, he begins to use his tongue to flick the sensitive hood of her clit, thereby increasing the amount and volume of Nelle's groans of pleasure. Despite a mouth full of cock, she lets out a yelp when he zeroes in. And with his lips sealed to the spot, he sucks Nelle's clit hard. Then feathering it with his tongue, he thrills to Nelle's almost continuous moaning.

Having been totally distracted from her cock-play by his attentions to her, Nelle regroups plunging toward his groin. Driving down the entire length of his cock, Nelle takes it to the hilt deep in her throat.

With Brether's head buried in Nelle's crotch, she cums hard, groaning, with back arched and hips bucking. Brether is right behind her, shooting his load down her throat. He comes up for air, crowing, as Nelle gulps his hot sperm. Swallowing down every sweet seed, she sucks him dry.

Happy and spent, they roll apart wasted from the intensity of their climaxes.

"Wow, that was great, Nelle!"

"We've sure needed that for a long time, haven't we, dear husband!"

"You got that right. Whew!" Brether says stretching.

" Hey, I set the automatic coffeemaker up before we went to bed, and it smells like it's perked. Too bad I gave the maid the day off," Nelle dusts off their tired jest--as they don't have a maid, "Guess we'll have to get it ourselves. How 'bout we sit out on the porch and watch the sun come the rest of the way up?"

" Sounds about right to me!" They roll out of bed and head for the kitchen in the buff.

Coffee cups in hand, Nelle and Brether settle comfortably into their cushioned Kennedy rockers to watch the morning boat traffic pass out the mouth of the Parker River into Ipswich Bay. It is a brilliant day and there is a light southwesterly breeze. The sun glints on the calm water of the sound; and, because it is a Saturday in August, there should be all manner of craft, from kayak to cabin cruiser, that will pass by in a steady stream in and out the mouth. The porch screens obscure them from the boat traffic, as they rock in the nude, enjoying the waterfront parade, solving crosswords, or dipping into the pile of books they brought along.

"What are you reading, Nelle?"

"

Delta of Venus

by Anias Nin."

"Erotica?"

"Yes, and of the distaff side. Since we write the stuff, we ought to read the competition."

"The competition?" Brether laughed. "You mean our betters!"

"Ah, we must learn from the masters, Grasshopper!" Nelle jibes. "Besides our editor is expecting Ellen and Herbert Edgar to produce their usual sizzler this month."

"Indeed, Madame Sensei!" Brether continues in jest.

"You know, hon, if our friends and associates ever knew we wrote smut, they'd shit a brick!"

"Not to mention that we get paid for it!" Brether adds.

"No kidding! So, what are you reading?"

"Updike.

Memories of the Ford Administration.

"

"That's a sexy enough story. You know he lived in Ipswich just across the sound here for 23 years. Talk about reading your betters! I know we should read good literature as a model for good writing, but he's such a scholar that I always feel like a drooler by comparison.

Breth laughs, "Yeah, well, the humility does us good."