It is a picture postcard night on the deserted beach, and I am the insomniac drifting in its midst. There is no real reason why I can’t sleep – I am just another restless soul in search of moonlight and some sea air. By day, I am a doctor. My hours are spent putting other lives before my own, offering hope to the hopeless and performing the miracles of modern medicine on a daily basis. It sounds exhilarating, but in excess, it can make you lose something irretrievable. What it is, I couldn’t even begin to explain, but I know that of late it has begun to ebb from me in a tide of other people’s problems. It is perhaps for this reason that I am drawn to the stillness of the dark. Recently, these moments have become sacred to me. They are my time of reflection, my time without limits - but more than anything, my time to heal my aching soul. I cling to them as a dream and hope that one night, I might stumble across a dawn.
I am walking along the shoreline, gazing at the stars’ reflection in the sea. Everything is silent apart from the hush of the waves and the fluttering of the breeze through the palms. It is mid-November, and unseasonably warm. The moon hangs large and low over the ocean, illuminating the scene with the pearly glow of fairytales. It is dreamlike, yet very real. I can taste the salt in the air and detect almost every ripple in the dark shimmering expanse before me. The beauty of the moment intoxicates me, and for a few moments I so wrapped up in this world that her presence catches me completely unawares.
It is four o’clock in the morning, the dying stages of the night, and she is swimming in the ocean. Strong bronzed arms rise from the water and then fall back again in a rhythm smooth as satin. Indeed, there is barely a splash as she glides towards me, her firm butt curving seductively above the waves and inviting me to admire it. I am entranced.
It’s strange. It’s not the first time I’ve encountered a person on my moonlit travels, but it is the first time that I haven’t considered it a death knell to my precious solitude. This woman is different. It is almost as though she is a living part of the landscape, the jewel in the crown and the gold in the stream. Within seconds, I find myself wanting to watch her for an eternity.
All too soon, she rises out of the water, shaking a glittering shower of droplets from her long dark hair. Her eyes turn towards me – steady, dark as the night, and embossed with the pale moon glow around us. In this light, her white swimsuit appears almost translucent, and I trace the contours of her body through it with a lust that surprises me. Her nipples are hard from water’s caress and stand out in two dark circles through the clinging fabric. I notice the area where her toned thighs meet, and gape when I notice the clear outline of her pussy.
She sees me looking, and starts towards me. In a panic, I turn to the horizon, trying desperately to calm the pounding of my heart. I am far too responsible for casual intimacy, but there is something about this woman that banishes all reason from my mind. She is beautiful and breathes sex from every pore in her body.
“A little late for walking…” she says in a voice laced with velvet and wet dreams. I turn towards her and try to sound confident, but the nervous waver in my voice speaks more than words.
“No more so than it is for swimming.” She raises her eyebrows in a playful manner.
“True, but maybe exercise wasn’t my purpose. Maybe I just like the feel of the water rushing over my clit. Maybe I’m just like everyone else and find sleep a lot easier after a powerful orgasm. You might even call it a fetish.” I blush in a mixture of embarrassment and lust, and find myself longing for a powerful wave to come along and sweep me from this situation. But the only wetness I feel is gathering rapidly in my pussy, beginning to coat the unprotected skin of my thighs, and feeding my raw nerves. “Don’t be afraid,” she continues, edging closer still, “You should forget your embarrassment and just try it. I always think of it as one of Mother Nature’s gifts to women.”
“I don’t know…” I bluster, “It’s late… and I’m hardly dressed for a swim…”
The eyebrows are raised again, and as she tilts her head to one side, I face an overwhelming sense of being out of control.
“But you are already awake,” comes her reply, “And there’s nothing to stop you taking off your clothes for a while.” I glance down at my modest bathrobe. I never see the point in wearing much at this time of night, not least when the weather is so balmy. But tonight I am beginning to regret my recklessness. It feels as though she can see straight through me - through the folds of the silk through to my naked skin and raging hormones beneath. She is now within arm’s reach, and before I have the chance to protest, she has unfastened the tie, causing the garment to fall open at the waist and reveal more than I have ever revealed to a total stranger.
My hands hover uncertainly at my sides. It is difficult to know how to react. Under any other circumstances, this would be my worst nightmare, but tonight it’s very different. Her eyes drop down my body. Although my nipples are concealed, my pussy is wide open to her view. Without knowing why, the experience has my juices flowing, and I find myself pulling the edges of my robe further apart to give her the full benefit of my shapely breasts.
“Baby…” she whispers, “You’re beautiful…” It makes no difference that we barely know each other. Something magical is passing between us, and neither of us wants to let go. I look deep in her eyes and feel nothing but trust. Her hands are soon on my shoulders, and as soon as she moves her lips towards mine, she has slipped the garment down, allowing it to drop in a crumpled heap behind me.
When we kiss, the earth moves. Her lips are so gentle, so soft, and so persistent as they move hungrily over mine. I edge closer, wanting to feel her body pressed tight against me. I want to feel her excitement and know that she wants me as bad as I think she does.
At first, we are breast to breast, sucking slowly on each other’s lips. Her nipples are almost boring their way into mine, and I can feel them getting harder by the second. I lean deeper into the kiss and feel her tongue beginning to work its way into my mouth. I am breathless. When I feel the cool dampness of her crotch making contact with the fire of my own, I know it is time to stop. But it is impossible. Showing herself to be a true professional at this game, my seductress has manoeuvred me into a hold that binds me to her like the sea to the moon. With one hand flat against the middle of my back and the other nestled in the fold between my ass and thigh, I am powerless as she draws me in tighter to the point where my pussy is forced open against the grinding pressure of her own.