A Stranger on the Beach

A bit of a departure for me. This one is short and, hopefully, intense. I'm entering it in the Summer Lovin' contest; make sure to read all the worthy entries and vote on your favorites!

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I had already decided he would be a no-show when, all of a sudden, he arrived.

The day on the beach had been gorgeous: typical summer surroundings on a sandy shore I'd lounged on a million times. The same kids and families puttering around in the surf, as they had since my childhood. The waves, always the same waves, soothing me as they fretted ashore.

The weirdness came from the man I'd hooked up with on Pixboox Personals the night before. The man who'd claimed to be local. The man who'd said he'd come meet me here today, between lifeguard stations 3 and 4. Where the surf sucked.

Where nobody really hung out.

It had been free and easy last night, the way it sometimes is: two online strangers hitting it off, the usual questions and answers, the repartee. It never got old, no matter how many times I did it, the spark of new possibility: a new friendship at the very least, even the online kind that my generation thinks of as reality. Especially in the older-man fetish forums on Pixboox.

He'd said he was going to come to the beach too.

I spent the first hour or so, trying to look cool, staring over my shades at the passersby and new arrivals. Even after my friend Bethany went into the water I stayed on the towel, feeling the sun on my skin, wondering whether I should have gone with a one-piece; the bikini was fine, but I'd put on a few more pounds than I'd planned last year at college, and I was still furiously trying to work them off. And besides, I'd already told him on Pixboox that I'd be in a yellow two-piece. Not, I'd stressed, a bikini.

Waiting.

I dozed off after Bethany left with the guy she'd met in the water, the two of them ostensibly headed for the food trucks. I'd watched them go, smiling to myself at the way she was so shamelessly advertising her body, pressing it up against him as they stumbled off down the gritty sand at this part of the beach. That was the other reason for my relative solitude: rocks. I wondered how long it would be before she was giving him a blowjob in the porta-johns by the parking lot. I wondered what they'd already done, in the surf.

He came while I was drifting along in that lugubrious wasteland between sleep and waking, his shadow falling across my face, stirring me. I was still blinking the sleep out of my eyes when I heard his low chuckle. "Yellow two-piece," he rumbled, and I knew it was him because he'd sent me a growly little sound file last night. A sound file that had made me blush.

I sat up, my arms sun-dry after all afternoon on my towel. I felt the dried sunscreen crackling, my abs flexing me up, and I was craning my neck around when he sat unceremoniously behind me. I got nothing but a flash glimpse of greying chest hair, a fleshy face with sunglasses, the mustache from last night, and then his legs were scooting along my towel just outside my hips, his body looming suddenly. As I kept trying to turn around, smiling breathlessly, his hands were already along my body, just beneath the straps holding my top on, his stubby fingers pressing lightly where my tits became my sides. "It's a pleasure," he murmured, kisses already landing on my neck, and I lolled forward with a little moan.

He knew what neck kisses did to me. He knew, because I'd told him last night.

The hot flush started even before I forced my eyes back open, looking sideways now, catching half his unshaven face. He looked like his pics. "I wondered if you'd... if you'd show up," I stammered.

"I told you I would." The sounds of people in the nibbling surf, the feel of the hot summer sun, the distant flicker of other beachgoers: all of it went away, my body sagging back into his without thought. His hands probed around my waist, leaving fire behind them. His chest was hot and strong and hairy behind me, so unlike the college boys I'd been fucking all year. I shivered. "Yes," he said, simply, in my ear. "Tremble."

Involuntarily my legs twitched a bit, cranking minutely wider, imprisoned by his own meaty thighs. I felt my lungs inhale, the gasp sudden, while my mind tried to calculate how long Bethany had been away, and what she'd think if she came back to find me making out with a stranger.

But he didn't feel like a stranger.

He felt like comfort, like desire, like excitement, behind me and around me, and for a fleeting moment, inside me as his tongue found my ear. I was shaking like it was forty degrees. I knew I'd be in deep shit if Bethany came back now; I could feel my nipples, painfully tight against the yellow top, and I had no confidence in myself to stop this man from wrapping himself around me if she returned.

Bethany had seen me in some bad moments at college last year, but this? Letting myself be mauled on a beach by a guy I'd met online about 18 hours ago? A guy I knew only as MrSmith59? A guy whose hands were creeping around now, stroking my tanned flesh, massaging their way toward my tits while he ran his lips confidently up and down my neck, ceaselessly, each time he crossed my jawline sending a stab of heat to my pussy?

No way was I going to stop this man. I couldn't. Already.

He'd keyed me up last night, all charming and witty and self-deprecating, and I'd been sucking steadily at a bottle of tequila and cackling with laughter in my long t-shirt and my cotton panties. He'd had my nipples hard long before he'd shown me his penis, his words coming back fast and funny, and I'd been impulsive when I'd mentioned my beach plans. It was the kind of thing I did a lot online, knowing there was no chance that the guy would ever show up.

Except? This one had.

And now he was nibbling on my earlobe, the smell of coffee strong on his breath; I felt his mustache tickle me. Without even realizing it I'd thrown my left arm back over his shoulder and around his neck: when the fuck had I done that? I felt his sweaty skin in the crook of my elbow, and just as I cranked my head back to offer him my lips his big strong fingers slipped up over my firm little tit and I shuddered a sigh into his parting mouth.

I'd asked him last night if he was a good kisser; he'd been noncomittal, but as I felt the mustache scrape across my lips, his tongue already licking my teeth, I melted. His mouth was strong, demanding, and I heard myself whimper into it as he claimed mine. I tasted coffee behind an inadequate Tic-Tac, then nothing but our saliva mingling and bubbling from my tongue to his and back again, my arm dragging his head fiercely to mine. My eyes snapped open just once, taking in the flashing glare off his sunglasses, when his fingers dug hard into the corrugated skin beside my nipple, drawing a quick intense throb from between my legs.

He knew, too, his lips curving against mine in a satisfied smirk. I never should have told him I enjoyed nipple play, I raged against myself. It always made me lose control; often, I came just from that. The back of his neck was still jammed into the crook of my arm, and he was sucking my tongue out of my head, and I was totally lost once his searching fingers crept inside my top, finding the other nipple.

Jesus.

I was worming around by that time, desperate to get to him, to plaster my smooth young body against his hairy burly one, to show him how badly I needed him to fuck me, but he was holding me tight enough to constrict my breathing. His arms were a cage keeping me wedged between his strong thighs. He had one hand working my left nipple like a radio dial, the other large and flat against my belly button, and all I could think was to twist over on top of him and open my legs wide. He chuckled into my mouth when he sensed my frustration.

"No," was all he said, spitting my tongue out and tearing my arm from around his neck; I felt coolness on my stomach when he moved that hand away. I was deliciously powerless as he moved my arm down, between us, pushing it toward the firm lump I could feel straining at his blue swim trunks, hot and eager against my ass. "No."

"But I want to," I whined, my voice a guttural whimper, and his reply was a harsh grate into my ear.

"I don't care what you want." That, right there, along with the burning in my nipples, was almost enough to make me cum right there on the public beach, and I didn't even think to resist when he shoved my hand inside his trunks. "This is about what I want."

"Yes," I breathed; I'd told him about that too, my need for a man to take charge, so different from the college dicks I'd been riding lately. Crammed between our bodies, my fingers felt heat and hair as I burrowed past his waistband, and then the glorious heavy thickness at the root of his hard cock. "It's about what you want." I'd have agreed to anything at that point. Anything at all.

"Uh-huh." His hand was along my wrist, fumbling at the ties of his swim trunks, and by this time he'd mauled my nipples numb. Distantly I heard voices from the surf, just people having fun. To me, they might as well have been on Mars. "I want you."

"Fuck," I gasped, my head lolling back around, now with a handful of dick. Thick dick. Strong dick, pulsing and hard in my little fingers. I squeezed it roughly, my arm already protesting at the awkward positioning. Just then I felt emptiness, abandonment even, as my loosened top fell back onto my tits. He'd pulled his fingers out. I was wildly confused, my hand momentarily slack around his penis. "What..." But then my head fell back onto his warm, hairy chest as he sent his hand straight into my bottoms. "Ahh..."

Into my bottoms, yes. Slick past my plucked mound, into the space I'd left between my spread legs, and with no hesitation at all straight into me, his finger hooking upward and insistent against my clit. He was solid, monumental behind me, which was fine; I would have collapsed onto my towel otherwise. That finger of his was thick and warm. I'd had cocks that were smaller. He swished it through my slit, feeling the wetness there, and I felt his chest rumble when he chuckled, satisfied at how soaked I was. One more prod, then another, my moans louder each time, and then his hand was back out into the sea air. He brushed the other fingers over my shuddering body, being careful not to smear what he'd taken out from inside me, and then he was pushing that glistening finger past my lips.

Tasting myself on him, on an older stranger. Here on the public beach. My best friend probably blowing a guy behind the food trucks. And with a thick trembling cock in my hand. I came suddenly, the wave passing through me like electrical current, like a nuclear blast, shuddering in his arms. "Fuck," I heard him say, distantly, a low gruff rumble through the scarlet haze in my brain, "you little slut." I sucked on his finger as if it were a mother's teat, my lips and tongue lashing myself off his dirty fingernail, tasting the pungent tang of my own arousal, mixed with the faintest chemical hint of coconut where my sunscreen had sweated down between my pointy hipbones. The orgasm stormed along my body, submerging me in a hot eager cloud, making me forget my own name.

I clutched at him, at his arm around my belly, at his meat sweating in my palm, my teeth bared, riding out my orgasm. I heard the distant pop as he ripped his finger from my mouth, wiping it derisively on my shoulder before he sent it straight back down to my left nipple, circling it, feeling it pop out still further. "Little slut," he repeated, low and savage, and I felt his cock spasm in my hand. "You weren't lying." I'd told him, last night, just how readily I could cum, but he probably heard that from every young bitch on Pixboox. Every horny little college girl, trawling for older men, delighting when we could make them cum for us on the site.

Never really dreaming it could ever truly happen in life. Never.

I shuddered again, weakly, coming down while he toyed lightly with my left breast; it filled his big, moist hand so fully, so comfortably, the man feeling like he was made for me. I knew he could feel my heart pounding back at him. I let out a long, quaking sigh, my muscles unclenching slowly, sagging back against him as if he was a fucking recliner. "Jesus," I managed, my hair spread all across his chest, and his chuckle once more vibrated through my head. Slowly, awareness returned: a man just down the beach, oblivious, playing Frisbee with his dog; a volleyball game in the other direction, the players leaping around with no awareness that I'd just cum within sight of them.

I felt like a nap.

He had other ideas, though, his fingers trailing across my skin as his arms finally released me. I felt his body shifting, his thighs spreading as he hiked his butt backward on the towel, and suddenly my hand was much, much freer to jack his dick in his loosened shorts. Despite the inconvenient angle, I did my best, my fingers corkscrewing up and down his shaft, feeling the skin move like velvet over a strong, hard riot-baton core. He leaned back, resting on his hands, his body slackly confident while I worked his dick behind me.

The sun, the sand, the waves. Summertime perfection. I blinked, dazzled by the glare and the force of my orgasm, still slow to comprehend exactly what I was doing here. How dangerous this was going to get. Bethany and her eventual return were the last thing on my mind now.

He dipped lower then, lounging back on his elbows, nearly lying down, and just like that he was moving his legs toward mine; I understood what he wanted, raising myself up, swinging my legs over his to come down lightly atop his hairy thighs. I stared at his legs between mine, sticking out toward the water with sand all over his feet, and still post-orgasmically twitchy I leaned forward to give him a show. I pulled my hand out of his blue shorts, then turned my head sideways so that he could see my head in silhouette against the bright summer sky as I lifted my hand deliberately to my mouth and licked. My fingers tasted strongly of cock, the gamy flavor of his body sweat and his hot skin, and I felt another shudder rattle through me. My hands caressed his thighs then, my body lifting slightly to show him my asscheeks hanging out of my little yellow bottoms. "Mmmm," I heard him rumble, and I blushed at the approval in his voice.

Approval.

I craved it, always, especially from the old lechs on Pixboox Personals. I'd gotten approval last night from this very man, when I'd lifted my shirt and sent him the selfie, my pale freckled breasts zapping onto his phone, and I felt it now in the hand he sent to caress my hip. "Beautiful," I heard him murmur, so I grinned proudly to myself and arched my back, impossibly, my spine straining to make my ass look its best. "That's it," he went on, low and ominous; I heard lust furring his voice. I stilled as his hand strayed, the fingers squeezing me, testing my body.

"Like that?" My voice was barely a whisper; I wasn't sure whether I should even say anything at all. The volleyball kids were loud down the beach. Hesitantly wanting him to give me feedback, I wagged my hips from side to side, craving his reaction. He'd be staring at my young, tight butt, so different from the wife he'd mentioned last night; he'd see the yellow fabric in my crack, his own rampant cock foreshortened in his loosened shorts. I cleared my throat, but knew I'd still sound husky. "I'll bet you do." I was arching more now, painfully, needing him to enjoy me.

He responded with his thumb moving deliberately into my crack, pressing against my anus, and I felt my whole body flush scarlet. I forced myself to be still, though everything in me was crying out that I must flinch away, so I took a breath and pushed back. Slightly. Just enough that his thumb started to force my bathing suit into my butthole.

So, so dirty.

"Slut." He'd liked that word last night, too, once I'd gotten him going. I shivered again when his other fingers came across my cheek to join his thumb, the nails digging underneath the yellow fabric. My throat was dry, and I could feel my heart surging in my chest. I felt the tightness against my skin, the man pulling the fabric aside, and with an incredulous gasp I knew he was staring at my naked asshole. "So nasty."

I was, too. He was a total stranger. A stranger whose name I didn't even know. I wondered, suddenly, whether he wanted me to slide back over his chest, whether he wanted to lick my ass. I wasn't sure I wanted that. Well, not unless he did. I was licking my lips, trying to decide what he wanted me to do, when suddenly he let my bottoms snap back against my flesh. I stifled a yelp and looked self-consciously toward the water.

The dog and his Frisbee had vanished. I wondered whether they'd seen anything, but I was past caring already. The emptiness had grown, my nipples, my mouth, my pussy begging for attention, and I swallowed hard. I knew what he wanted. He'd lain down, now, on my own towel, both his hands free to roam up and over my thighs, hips, and ass, the rhythm soothing but insistent, and in an instant I knew what I wanted too.

We were past speaking as I slid back along his thighs, going until I felt that fat dick of his wedged into the crack of my ass. I craned my neck around, scanning the beach hurriedly and seeing nothing but the volleyballers up the beach, and a jogger down in front of me where the tide was going out. I moved my hips, no longer thinking of anything except the demands of his body. And mine. I raised up, knowing he'd be watching as I braced one hand on his leg and slid the other up my inner thigh, hooking the yellow bottoms, moving them sideways to clear my pussy.

The lining stuck, just a little. I was dripping.

I waited, offering myself, feeling his movement behind and beneath me. No words, the rustle of blue fabric against his legs, pushing down underneath mine as he eased his shorts down. I thought about what I knew was right behind my body: his naked cock, hard for me, thick and knobby and ready to enter me, and the excitement was a ringing in my ear as, almost without any consciousness that I was doing it, I backed up to hover over his lap.

In the time it took me to dip my head down to look along my body, past my hard nipples, along my tanned peach-fuzzed belly, he'd already positioned his dick right under me, poking up veined and brutish and thick above a huge pair of balls, the whole thing haloed with coarse grey hair, and for a moment I had the urge to stop this whole thing so I could lean down and taste that fine, trembling cock, using my tongue to sweep aside the glimmering dab of precum I saw, jeweled in the summer sun, but I was already sinking mindlessly down and there was no time to play.

Just to fuck.

I watched, fascinated, as his fat purple head met my soaked pink inner lips, making contact, then found its way in between as though custom-made for me. Once more I arched my back, making room this time, allowing my body to feel the man's girth splitting me open. There was nothing tentative, nothing uncertain, just his hands greedy and firm on my hips, pulling me down onto his cock in one steady, greased motion, and then my eyes fluttered shut. I felt it all, hot and dense between the walls of my pussy, filling me tightly: I love a nice, girthy dick. The man's mind had to be racing, seeing my young body descend onto him. Feeling my pussy clamped tight around his cock, wrapping him in my warmth, my wetness. My cunt.

I couldn't believe I was fucking a stranger on a beach in broad daylight.

My feet moved back along the towel, and I felt it bunch beneath my toes; every sensation was at its highest pitch for me, vibrating through my consciousness like a violin. I was kneeling now, not squatting, and I heard him groan behind me. The man's nails were leaving marks in my flesh, gripping me powerfully while he struggled to cope with how it felt, with his immediate desire to blow his load straight into my nubile body.