I showered first, and pulled on a fresh pair of boxers. Before I could grab some dress pants, Leslie said, as she was stepping into the shower, "No, no underwear tonight." She giggled at the surprised look on my face. "Okay," I said, chuckling. It felt strange but good to be wearing the thin dress pants with my cock, still semi-erect, pressing against them. Finished dressing, I told her I'd wait on the front porch for her. I grabbed a water from the fridge and left the room.
I waited for about a half and hour, watching the few cars go by, nodding and chatting to a couple of inn guests as they went by. I was lost in pre-occupied bliss thinking about the day and its events, waking as if from a dream when Leslie appeared in the doorway.
She wore an outfit I hadn't seen before, a form-fitting coral colored sleeveless lace button-up top, each button on a short string fitting into a loop to hold the blouse together, with a small gap; a solid pale blue wrap miniskirt of very thin cotton low on her hips, her belly button showing about 3 inches above, and just below her top; and matching coral high heels, with no stockings, but a thin, gold ankle bracelet on her left ankle. The top buttons of her blouse were undone, and she wore a coral and blue necklace of shells with a larger shell as its medallion, which hung to the top of the cleavage peaking out of the gap in her top. The quarter-size darkness of her areolae were visible through the lace; she was not wearing a bra. She wore minimal make-up, as was her usual practice, and one preferred by both of us - she simply didn't need it.
It was about 4:30 when we left, with several hours of daylight ahead of us. We had tried all of the restaurants in town by then, and since we weren't yet hungry anyway, we decided to drive to a historic lighthouse about 20 miles away, overlooking the Chesapeake Bay. There was a small strip of sand there, and a pleasant place to spend our time as we whiled away the rest of the afternoon and early evening. As I held the door for Leslie to get into the car, she made sure I got a nice view of her legs, sliding her hem high on her thighs.
It took about a half hour to get to the lighthouse. There were a few cars in the parking area, but it was quiet. We walked hand in hand down the short paved dead-end road toward the little beach. I could see the outline of her breasts as the light filtered through the lace of her blouse. She looked stunning!
A group of 20-something's, two women and four men, appeared from a trail on the side of the road and headed our way. We stopped and chatted with them, while I enjoyed catching them stealing looks at Leslie and her breasts.
"Wow, you all are awful dressed up for a hike!" one of the guys said.
"Just out for a little romantic stroll before we decide where to go to dinner," I replied, feeling my loins tingle happily again. As I stood blinking into the sun facing Leslie, who had begun a conversation with one of the girls and what appeared to be her boyfriend, who definitely was not hearing a word because of Leslie's chest, I realized how thin her skirt was. It fit tightly around her hips and ass (which looked marvelous, by the way), loosening up around her thighs enough to make it comfortable to walk. I could clearly see the outline of her thighs through the skirt. This caused more arousal on my part, so I plunged my hands deep into my pockets in an effort to disguise it, only partially successfully.
After our conversation with the group, we sauntered on to the little beach. It was about 20 feet wide and 40 yards long, water from the bay lapping gently onto the sand, and a jumble of grass and a collection of those scrappy, tough, weather beaten bushes opposite the water. The entrance was close to one end, not far from which was a young couple lying on a towel together, he wearing baggy swim trunks, she lying face down next to him, the strings of her top untied as she soak in the late afternoon sun, which was just beginning to show signs of descending in the sky.
We traded hello's with them as we strolled by, Leslie carrying her heels to walk in the sand. Near the other end of the sand was a log perfect for sitting to watch the gulls squawk at each other. We had had the foresight to bring a towel with us from the car to sit on, so I placed it on the log and watched Leslie take her seat. It was a low seat, which pleased since it meant Leslie's knees were high and pulled up the hem of her skirt as she sat.
She straightened her legs in front of her as I sat next to her and put an arm around her. She leaned against me and sighed contentedly. We remained that way for a while, not saying much, just content with being, and being close.
But presently our bums became sore from the log, so we spread the towel out on the sand. Leslie sat with her back to the log, arms behind her head, and I stretched my legs for a bit, gazing out across the water. I hadn't looked her way for a minute, taking in the beautiful scene while we talked about nothing in particular. I turned to say something, and stopped in mid-word when I saw that she had removed her blouse, laying it neatly on the log behind her. Her breasts looked magnificent in the soft, warm light. I stood there mute, grinning and thrilled. She looked at me sideways with a little grin. I could tell that the log, because of its slight angle toward the water of the end toward the other couple, that she was mostly obscured.
I was not, however, with my cock now back at full attention, pressing against my pants.
"Go ahead and unzip," she said, still looking at me sideways, an eyebrow raised in anticipation. I glanced over at the couple to see that he was turned on his side away from us, his head resting on his right hand as he talked to his girlfriend, who was obscured by him. I unzipped and my cock came free to a delighted giggle from Leslie.
"That's better!" she cheered, stretching each arm back to rest on the log, displaying her breasts to me. I could see another thought cross her mind; she leaned forward and looked at the couple, who were still engrossed with each other. Then she pulled a string on the tie on the hip of her skirt and lifted each layer of the wrap in turn, laying the material down on either side of her. She was naked, not having worn any panties.
I walked over to her and sat down, breathing thank you after thank you to her, and she giggled happily at my approbation.
"Well, if you're so grateful," she said, "then take your clothes off too!"
The shirt was easy, of course, and certainly not attention-getting, but I had to think of how to handle the pants. The boyfriend was now standing about knee deep in the water, his attention still on his girlfriend. Leslie simply folded her arms across her chest, which from the thirty or so yards distant, prevented him of suspecting much without staring and therefore breaking that time-honored beach rule of not ogling. I discreetly unfastened my belt and pants, and the girlfriend, now wearing her top, appeared in the water with him. They turned and waded farther out where they could swim, and began splashing around. I slipped the pants off and laid them on the log.
"Much better!" Leslie said. Sitting side by side, she began to stimulate my pulsing organ, slippery with precum. "How does that feel?" she asked flirtatiously, already knowing the answer.
Our companions now were about 50 yards out, still in front of their spot on the beach, swimming and flirting with each other. My hand probed between Leslie's legs, anxious to find her pussy. She lifting her knees and spread her legs for me, still attending to my cock. Her pussy was soaked, and as my fingers slid between her labia, she moaned loudly, moving her ass farther away from the log to give me better access.
We heard the girlfriend squeal and we froze, thinking they had caught on to our lustfulness. We saw him holding something over his head as she tried, laughing, to grab it. I realized he was doing exactly what I would try to do in the same situation: he had robbed her of her bikini top, and was playing a joyful game of keep-away.
We laughed as we realized what was happening. My fingers resumed their work, much to Leslie's delight. Then we heard more splashing and her scream became slightly more desperate. We watched as he swam for the shore, her top in his teeth.
