Some may have called it cheating, but I really didn't have a choice. Either the man would rape me or I could give in and enjoy the experience. If I took the first option, I would probably have to report the matter to police, tell my husband, and undergo years of crisis counseling. If I took the second, I could just give my husband some great sex to compensate for the pleasure I received outside of his arms. It was an easy choice really.
It all happened last summer when my husband and I rented a house in a quiet part of the coast. One end of the beach had no development and few people ever walking on it. Before 8am, the entire beach was almost always deserted and I was confident that no one would disturb me.
For two days, I woke up around 7am, left my husband in bed, and walked down to the quiet end of the beach where I removed my cloths and swam naked, alone with me and the ocean...or so I thought. On the third day, I had just entered the cool water when I noticed that a figure was walking along the beach towards me. Self-conscious about my nakedness, I crouched down in the sea to conceal my nudity, and planned to wait until he had passed. To my horror, once he reached my towel and cloths, instead of continuing to walk, he removed his own cloths to reveal a hard cock that was visible even from a distance.
Butterflies went through my stomach as he started walking into the sea towards me. I had nowhere to go, no where to run and no one would hear if I screamed for help.