memory-of-the-coast
EXHIBITIONIST VOYEUR

Memory Of The Coast

Memory Of The Coast

by clementinewater
7 min read
3.46 (5000 views)
adultfiction

Some stories originate in fantasy or absurd desire, but this is a fairly accurate recollection of mine. While I'm typically more adept at collecting my less-than-stellar sexual embarrassments, what happened on this particular coastal walk was unusual enough to stay embedded. I can tell you only a little about her for privacy's sake, a sexually curious soul whose appetite would eventually eclipse and pass me by, whose curls accented a full, storied face. Even clothed in coastal-winter attire, she boasted the obvious figure of a plump renaissance painting subject, whose teasing often made public escapades impossible to avoid.

For the sake of simplicity, we'll think of her as "Renee." We were navigating a rocky trail on an unusually bright day for the area, with some families passing us by, mouths tucked under scarves or materially rich coats. We had argued about something trivial again, so I was a pace or two behind her, trying to balance taking in the sights with attempting to sort out whatever ill feelings had settled in the day. Our relationship started on the basis of sex, which had been new for me. I was a notorious online dater and was generally physically avoidant, but a chance encounter at a local theater had turned into a late-night conversation, which had turned into a mischievous face smiling down on me as she rode me. It was a lack of caution I had never exhibited before. I remember her asking, my cock in her hand, positioned at her cunt,

You're clean, right?

Who does that? She does, as it turned out, and slid down on top of me and established a primary connection between us immediately. I remember a compliment on my size that I generally regarded as being forcibly polite, or an attempt to further arouse me, but I was too busy wrapping my hands around a particularly plump ass and thinking "How has this happened?" Those thoughts don't last for long when someone rides you like she does, with a purpose so deliriously pleasurable I found myself a little while later gushing inside her, to her delight. How's that for an introduction to a relationship?

On a different continent, in a different context, it was harder to align those two elements of our relationship: lascivious desire and personality incompatibility. We might've disagreed on politics, or something much less important, but it's telling I only recall how the day concluded, not how it was complicated. We stomped through mud, puddles and briar patches before coming across an old concrete and brick structure that stood next to the sea. The water there wasn't the murky brown-green I had associated with east coast beaches, but a brilliant teal. The sun was setting, so I tussled her hair in a manner I hoped came off as affectionate, her curls wrapped around my frigid fingers. It turned into a slight kiss, and I was impolite enough to peek in the middle of it, taking in an entire sea as a backdrop to her freckled, pale face. A slight kiss became less slight, included the warmth of her tongue against mine, and suddenly we were much closer and the chill of the day ebbed away. I have a history with reckless public affection, which I'll bore all of you with at a later date, but they all contain the amusing, nerve-racking glance around. In this instance, it was a check to see if the farmers in the local fields could see us through the gaps in the brick, or if there were families on their way over to the structure.

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We were lucky, but it was a fraught encounter given the visibility around us, so the kissing intensified, included my cold hand jostling underneath her coat and sweater, enough to shock her breast with my embrace. Short on time, I turned her around and received only one "Are you sure we should risk it?" before navigating my hand to her clit and providing a non-verbal answer. It was thick and pronounced between my fingers, and I could feel the vibrations of her moan in response while we kissed. Without time, I furiously turned her around and bent her over, not noticing the time how I had made her body parallel to the rippled sea.

Thankfully she wore something equivalent to sweatpants, which came down around her plump, pink ass with ease. Normally I would have wanted to delay, to rub my swollen head against her clit or around her lips until our both of us dripped with anticipation, but we were both determined to have this moment, so against the unbelievably beautiful backdrop I sank all of me into her, no longer concerned about trail-hiking families or curious farmers. If you've ever savored the warmth in a fairly frigid environment, you know how easy it is to ignore both time and temperature, but I did my best to not thrust with such intent that the smacking sound of our bodies overcame the sound of the waves. The benefit of being with someone who almost always wanted to have, discuss, or think about sex was how phenomenally slick she was around my length, and I wrapped her hair around my fingers again as I pulled just enough to slam her hips back onto me. I feel somewhat guilty now about how willing she was to reflect all my kinks and desires, some I'll write about in the future, but we both shared a love of this: the risk and electricity of enjoying one another in the most public way imaginable.

However, we were pressed for time, and despite wanting to capture this moment for as long as possible she began to moan for me to empty myself inside her. It was unfair how adept she was at egging me on to cum, as if having an ideal figure and incredible movement during sex wasn't enough to make me give out on a regular basis. I attempted to ignore her at first, but she locked eyes and began to command me, which was a terrible weakness of mine. Despite being the one thrusting, plunging into her, I felt at her mercy:

Fucking come for me.

I could feel it working on me, despite myself. I have a weakness for strong demands, especially from someone was forceful and desirous as her.

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Come inside me right now.

I thought about anything else other than how well her lips wrapped around my cock down there.

Come in this cunt.

Fuck, what else was I going to do at that moment? I became impossibly rigid before spasming, grabbing her hips in response, kissing her deeply, and letting an entire day's worth of tension flood into her, holding myself in while it shot out, twitching all the while. She held me in, too, savoring the moment. She always wore such a self-satisfied smile in those moments, running her hand through my hair, knowing she had personally plucked my pleasure from me.

On the walk back she told me through a wide grin how she could feel my warmth dripping out of her, a small river of us running from her lips, down her thigh, smeared across her inner leg. There were stolen kisses, the occasional hand shot down the fabric to feel the warm mixture between my fingers. I tussled her clit gently with it all, gently tugging and rubbing it with our cum. She was on birth control, but another day I'll tell about the fantasies we shared about becoming pregnant from days spent like this, about how I longed not just to drink from her pleasure, but from her breasts, and how often she welcomed that fantasy. It was a day that ended in warm play and we kissed for too long when we got back to the car, not caring about the locals who knew her, peering at us. When we worked, we worked ferociously well, like we were starved for what came between us. It's a nice recollection if nothing else.

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