We are spending a long weekend at a beautiful rental home in Hermosa Beach overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The houses lining the beach are in a combination of styles, some Spanish Hacienda, some non-descript boxes of mostly cement with some windows, and some modern homes with much glass and skylights. We are in the bedroom of one of the modern houses, early in the morning. The semester has finally ended, and the timing is perfect: You are in your insatiable part of the month, the lunar cycle of lust when it seems the moon pulls on your dark pink nipples as it does on the tides, keeping them taut... desperate for tonguing... and for that little twist you love when you are nearing orgasm. We brought with us nothing but steamy novels and a laptop computer for writing our own erotica. You've fantasized about staying nude the entire weekend. You've been bundled up against the cold in Canada for too long. It's mid-May, and your husband has encouraged you to give yourself a little vacation so you can write to your heart's content with no distractions.
As the sun begins to rise higher in the early morning sky, we are awakened by the streams of light coming through the windows. The pleasures we took in the night have left us still in the pulse of arousal.
The ocean outside continues the beat of its pacifying, energizing rhythm--its swelling and cresting, again and again, as it builds to a crescendo with the onset high tide. Unfolding ourselves from our sleep, we seem to absorb within us the energy of the Pacific as well as the sun: We begin again our own patterns of swellings and risings and crestings.
We are almost wordless as the tides of our desire speak through us. Nothing more is needed than soft, light touches... lips mating together, your fingers tracing my hardness, my fingers sliding down, finding you moist, slipping inside, parting you open, circling inside. You strip away the sheets and reach out for my cock and just hold it in your hand in admiration... like a surfer picking up his board before entering the ocean for the first ride of the day. You mount the board, taking me inside you, and then you steady yourself, almost still, quietly content.
You then make love with me in a rhythm that has the passion arising from deep within my loins and surging through me to the tip, and then back down, like a surfer waiting patiently far out in the ocean, resisting the smaller and medium sized waves, waiting for the best one, the one that will give him the best ride of the morning. And you are on the verge of riding a little wave of orgasmic ecstasy, but you know, in this position, on top, this morning, with me, it would be the same exquisite intensity as pleasuring yourself, but even better, for the pleasure would be shared, and as you rode me, your imagination would return to the visions and fantasies we shared in our first letters.
But now instead of words from my pen entering your mind, a cock is deep inside you, and my tongue is scrolling up and down your body, from lips down to nipples, and across: my mouth a cursor, stopping at various places to edit and revise, the tongue inserting itself here and there with a twirl or tease or touch like adding a new phrase, and you are using me again--all of me, body as well as mind and heart--to reach the height of ecstasy, transforming words into flesh.
Now with the sun mounted higher in the sky and the waves swelling up in 4 and 5 foot crests and crashing to the beach, you sit back with me inside you, spreading wide your legs, knees far apart, and with me still inside you, you play with your clit in your favorite motions, circling and circling, stopping to let me taste your finger and fellate it, and then you return, bringing yourself to the verge, following the sweet line inside of you that will hook into and hold fast the orgasm building in your depths, kindling yourself for intense pleasure, now rocking back and forth a bit on me as you start reeling in the sweet line, the demands of your clit dominating all your movements, as you breathe hard, but slowly, however tempted you are to let your breaths come short and fast and quick.
I pull you down on top of me, our tongues mate, and then you lift up a bit, head past mine, dangling your bosoms before me, my tongue stuck out, trying to catch a nipple each time as you rock back and forth, and then I just surround you in my arms, holding you tight at your waist, and thrust hard and fast and up, slapping into you from behind but below you, and like some hang glider finding the thermals, you just soar over the cliffs, over the ocean, towards the sun, a female Icarus, burning up, melting into wax, as orasmic ecstasy dissolves us into two candles melted and fused together by the fire of our passion.
We lie together, bantering and conversing, enjoying the reciprocity of mental and physical stimulation, the joys verbal and sexual intercourse. We note that we rush around so much that rush is our routine. We have no sabbath day in our lives, a day not to be caught up in the rush of our lives, a day of active rest where we go beyond what seems merely temporal or transitory. We discuss the need for more oasis moments of long, extended sex. You reach over as we talk and pull up into the bed your vibrator... better yet, your massage unit. I lie beside you, helping you pleasure yourself, giving your body encouragment in its favorite places: kissing your lips, toying with your nipples, dipping a finger or two to massage your G-spot. The powerful, low humming of the vibrator drops our voices down an octave as we deep-sea dive into the caverns and coral reefs where we find swimming fathoms below the surface our deepest thoughts about sex and the erotic.
What is most erotic, we recognize, is whatever slows us down, whatever allows us to luxuriate in the arousal of all of our senses, whatever requires us to call upon the imagination as the bridge between desire and its fulfillment, even to the point of making us beg for satiation... for the action that will end our longing, our yearning, the thickening and the throbbing, as we seek out, almost desperately, the climax that will soothe and soften us, unruffling and cooling down what has been roiling up inside of us, the waves of orgasmic energy flushing out all our sadnesses, the heat of our fucking smelting us down and purifying us of any impurities.
