On the Beach

Sasha loved the ocean. The quicker route home cut through the city, but she preferred the long way around, which followed the tan beaches and windswept palm trees that characterized the Southern California coast. She had a special place she parked - high up on a cliff overlooking the sea and the slow sunset - on those days when she was in no particular hurry to get home to her quiet house and her bachelorette's dinner of pasta and salad. From that cliff, she could see miles of ocean, all lit gold and orange by the setting sun.

She parked, and dropped so deep in thought she barely noticed the Jeep that pulled up to her right. Feeling watched, she turned and met eyes with a roughly handsome beach bum in his mid to late twenties. Sasha was suddenly aware that, lost in her own world, she had been toying with the edge of her short suit dress. The man's admiring glances at her legs angered her for a moment - a feeling which was immediately replaced by excitement. She locked eyes with him coyly, and slid the skirt up her thigh until it was nearly to her panties, then dropped it back down again. His eyes grew round with surprise, and she giggled. Men are so silly, she thought to herself, so easily interested. Still, her face flushed, and her nipples tightened.

Not taking her eyes off the man, Sasha untucked her blouse from her skirt. She slowly undid the top button, then the next, as he watched in awe. She opened her blouse, exposing the white satin of her bra. The man's gaze sharpened predatorily, increasing the warm tingle between her legs. Her hands found the hem of her skirt once again. She inched up the skirt until her panties were barely visible, then rubbed the moistening satin. He watched her ravenously. She knew that if it weren't for the walls of steel and glass between them he would pounce upon her, tear through her bra and panties with his teeth, and take her. A part of her wished the walls would evaporate.

She moved her hands up to her chest, unhooking the bra. Her exposed nipples hardened both with cold and arousal. She squeezed her breasts, arching her back as she lightly pinched her nipples. One hand slid down her stomach to her panties, where a small damp circle formed. She pushed aside the crotch of her panties, showing him her clit and her swollen, wet lips. Pure hunger filled his eyes, and his hands disappeared from sight. The motion of his body suggested that he unzipped his pants and found his (nicely sized, she imagined) erection, which he began to pull and push. She rubbed her clit vigorously, spurred on by his gaze and her own wild lust, while he other hand took turns fondling her breasts - first the left, then the right. Slipping one finger, then two, into herself, she knew she was close to coming. Her ass rose off the car seat as she plunged her fingers deep into her pussy. She vaguely noticed that he too was coming - his body undulating, his eyes rolled up in their sockets - before an orgasm shot through her like lightning. Her juices dripped from her wrist as she writhed in ecstasy.

Sasha sighed, wiped her hands on a drive-thru napkin. The man, engaged in similar cleanup, was faced away. Before he had a chance to turn towards her, to talk to her and ruin everything, she cranked the engine and put her car in reverse. He looked up, shocked, but she didn't even look in the mirror as she drove away. As she fastened her bra and fixed her hair, Sasha wondered what kind of man he was - a kind one? A conceited one? It didn't matter, when she would think of him, while watching the ocean or in the evening in bed, he was whatever she wanted him to be.