Davids Dilemma

David

The sandpipers darted in as the wave subsided, plunging their long beaks into the boiling foam to rootle about for crustaceans before darting back up onto the drier sand by the next oncoming wave. They kept a wary eye on me as David approached their formation.

It was a gray day, and the beach was thinly populated. With the tide out, there was plenty of flat wet sand. It wasn't hot and David was making good time. It was a perfect break in his day, feet crunching in the sand, responsibilities temporarily left behind.

As he reached the place where the beach curled around towards the boat launch, he passed a lady going the other way. She was tall, maybe a couple inches below six feet, with long straight blonde hair held in a wide mauve headband. She was wearing a nylon shell and thick leggings. The jacket was baggy and didn't show off her shape while the leggings were stuffed with curvy thighs. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but her mouth had thick pink lips and she had a strong chin, almost masculine. He smiled and greeted her (as he did nearly anyone he passed). She wasn't conventionally attractive and made no special impression, save that they met again later.

His path swung around, past the various fisherfolk prepping their boats and passing the little store ("live bait... ice... cold beer"). Rather than walk back on the beach, into the teeth of the wind, he would walk inland a bit and pass through the trailer park behind the dunes. This was always a slice of life. Campfires burning, dogs barking, ATVs roving. The long parade of beige plastic-clad vehicles with wild sounding names: Rogue and Nightrunner and Explorer.

The road was unpaved and strewn with gravel, but the footing was firm. He pressed to make up time here that he'd lost slogging through the soft sand earlier. Most of the campers were close to the boat launch, bathrooms, showers, and store. There were a lot fewer people along the entrance road or close to the gate: only on busy weekends would the whole campground fill in. There were always one or two campers, though, who wanted more privacy than convenience and decamped (as it were) to these less populated stretches.

This is where he ran into the blonde again. As David walked down the road, he watched her puff over one of the trails from the beach, rest for a minute on a picnic table bench, and then, as he approached, turn her attention to her gear. Her Jayco trailer, with its jaunty bluebird logo, and her white Dodge pickup were all packed up, as if she were just coming or going. David guessed it was coming because he didn't recall seeing this space filled the day before.

"Hi again," she called out to David, as he drew abreast of her site. "Hey mister, could you help me for a minute?"

"Hi. What'cha need?" David paused the fitness tracker on his phone.

"I'm Cindy. Nice to meet you," she said. She extended her hand and David shook it automatically. She had big hands and a firm grip. "I could use an extra pair of hands with the trailer. I can do it on my own, but it goes much faster with two."

"Sure, no problem," he said.

"First we have to do the side-to-side leveling," she said. "Block the wheels while I use the gizmo to level it."

David moved to place the wheel chocks and gave her the high sign. She stood in the doorway of the trailer and poked a button that made the trailer adjust the suspension.

"The only rolling in my bed should be the intentional kind," she chirped. She'd taken off her aviators and her blue eyes glittered. She handed David a couple of plywood squares to put under the jacks and he helped her crank out the legs that leveled the trailer front-to-back. It really was a two-person job.

"Thanks, partner. Can I show you my appreciation?"

"I was happy to help."

"No, really, you saved me a lot of running back and forth," she said. "Why don't you come in for a minute and warm up? We can check that the bed is level," she added with a teasing wink.

"I should get going," David told her, preparing to depart. The trailer had a slide out section, which clacked into place. She stepped back down off the step and walked over close to him.

"Are you sure?" she asked, standing closer than was maybe socially acceptable.

"That's... flattering, but my wife is waiting at home. I can see how it'd be annoying to do this on your own. I was glad to help, but it was no big deal."

"You sure? My coffee is hot, and I'd appreciate the company," she pleaded.

"That's tempting," David said, not really considering if it were tempting.

"I'll be here all week," she said, but David was restarting the fitness tracker app.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow," he said, again somewhat automatically, waving and moving off.

"I'll be waiting," was her reply.

Andrea

Andrea was sitting at the computer, working her way through the grant proposal. Since she'd retired, she'd given more and more of her time to causes that really mattered to her, especially low-level local political candidates and environmental issues. The recognition she received gave her satisfaction that thirty years of accountancy never had.

"I'm home," David called, entering the house. He poked his head into her informal office, one of the guest bedrooms.

"Did you see what this idiot, McClintock, is proposing?" she chirped. In spite of being in her early sixties, Andrea felt every bit as vital as when she'd met him thirty years ago. But David didn't really care about McClintock, he was only humoring her discussion. It was depressing that he wouldn't show interest in important things.

Andrea looked over at herself in the guest room's closet door mirrors. She was still as slim as a rail, even if her wavy curls had gone silver. David stepped up behind her to massage her shoulders, but that made her squirm and shrug, her mouth forming a moue of distaste.

"Go clean up and get back to work," she told him.

When she finished up and went out she discovered that David had made a nice light dinner. She was tired from a long day at the computer, so it was a luxury to retire early to watch TV while he stayed up a little while. She could watch her political shows in peace while he watched shoot 'em ups or whatever. She turned off the light early.

David

Andrea had gone off to bed, as usual. David needed to wait for the TV to switch off and the light to go out before he went in himself. If he went too early, she'd want to talk about politics or people they knew or plan a party or something pusillanimous. She definitely wouldn't welcome any touching.

To avoid problems, he knew he'd have to wait her out. But he was finding it difficult to concentrate on his show. His imagination kept wandering to the random stranger in the campground. There had been something more there than a chance to warm up. He hadn't paid attention to her looks, really, but it was kind of thrilling to have a thirty-something gal pay that sort of attention to him.

Andrea had been such a marked contrast when he got home. They hadn't been intimate with each other in many months--he'd lost count now and struggled to recall when the last time was. After menopause her interest in such things had fallen off a cliff. At first, in her forties and fifties, he sometimes might get lucky. Later, he might guilt her into it a couple of times a year. She'd complain that it was uncomfortable or make excuses for finishing early. Now in her sixties, everything had come to a standstill. Talking about it didn't help.

He imagined, for a moment, going with the stranger into the trailer. His dick twitched to life as he pictured himself eating her out. Feh! What was he doing? He was married and had an attractive wife right there in his own bed. Tonight, he resolved, he would try again. Heading into the bedroom early, he snuggled up to her apparently sleeping form.

"Go to sleep, dear, I'm tired," she whispered. David froze. He knew the drill. Rolling over, he swallowed his frustration for the umpteenth time.

Cindy

The next day brought a thick marine layer, with inland heat drawing the coastal fog on-shore. There was a steady wind, as tendrils of moisture whipped around the cypresses bordering the campground. The trailer rocked and creaked slightly with each gust.

Cindy stepped down and closed the door. From there, she strode up the path through the dunes that overlooked the sea. From the small wind break there, she used her birding field glasses to watch the shore birds. Eventually, though, the handsome stranger who'd helped her yesterday appeared, striding down the hill, past the gate to the beach parking lot, and starting in on what appeared to be a ritual daily walk.

He'd gone early, as the tide was out. No risk of overheating and fewer dog walkers and other impedimenta. The shorebirds, free of most disturbances, could congregate freely, big curlews and little pipers ebbing and flowing as shallow waves assaulted the beach.

At first, he seemed oblivious, but she kept watching him. He was older, with a bit of extra weight around his midriff, but still distinguished looking, well-groomed, and clearly fit. He was also quite a bit taller than she was, which was always a rarity with her 5'10" height. She kept the field glasses trained on him, imagining what it would have been like to talk to him. As he drew abreast of the trail down from the dune, he seemed to notice her scrutiny and waved to her.

Cindy waved back. Through the binoculars, she could see him smile before his stride carried him out of view. "Down girl!" she thought. "Maybe I should have pretended not to see him."

David

David made the turn and headed back. The gloppy weather reduced the camping crowd to the dedicated. One Asian family was preparing to dig geoduck clams, while a salty looking pair of men were setting up their surf poles.

Other trailers and RVs were mostly still closed up against the morning chill. Then he was onto the empty sites and the entrance road. There was only the one trailer at this end of the park. The blonde lady he'd waved to was back in her campsite, watching as he approached. Her presence seemed like a kind of magnet, pulling him down the rutted road.

"I'm sure I mentioned that I am married," he thought. "I clearly turned down any extracurriculars. On the other hand, maybe I was misinterpreting. It wasn't as if she said anything truly explicit. Some women just like winding a guy up with hot talk! Maybe the horny old goat inside me was reading too much into her invitation to 'warm up'? Maybe she was just friendly and grateful? Maybe she was lonely for some conversation? That is probably all it was. I should be less suspicious. What can it hurt?"

"Hi. It's Cindy, isn't it? How's the camping? Bit damp?" he called, just as he was in earshot.

"Howdy!" she replied. "Glad to see you again. I did get a little wet watching the shore life."

David paused the fitness tracker, thinking he might spend a minute chatting. It wouldn't hurt anything to stop and make some conversation, although the devil on his left shoulder winked at her comment.

He looked at her again, this time with a more appraising eye. Today her hair was held back by a wide navy headband, twin to yesterday's pinkish one. It was her cheeks that were pink, from the wind. Instead of the nylon shell she was wearing a zip-up black hoodie. The stretchy material was more form-fitting, and the hoodie gave the impression of hiding at least a pair of cantaloupes, along with miscellaneous other bulges. Her pants were satin-finished navy blue running pants, with white stripes running down the line of her thighs. He could imagine exactly how they'd swish if they were walking together.

"It's not perfect camping weather now, but I'm sure it'll clear in the afternoon," he offered.

"I was hoping things would warm up a little more quickly," she said. He'd continued his approach, so that he was near her trailer. The angle there blocked the breeze slightly. "Speaking of, can I brew you something hot?"

David felt a stir from the flirtation in her speech. "I'm a big boy," he thought. "I can handle this. There's no harm in flirting back a bit, is there?"

"Sure," I said. "I'd love to come inside for something hot and wet. Sounds refreshing."

Cindy

Cindy felt a huge stir in her belly. His double entendre was probably an accident, unintentional. But maybe not? Maybe he felt the attraction too? His glance at her, trying not to be obvious about staring at her tits and ass, made her heart skip a beat. Accepting an invite for coffee was almost too good to be true! But there he was, stepping up, the trailer rocking slightly as he did. She scrambled up behind him, letting the door whump shut behind her.

The lights were off in the trailer, but there were plenty of windows. The main "room" of the trailer had a tall-backed leatherette recliner built like a small sofa--two and a half seats wide. Each end had a pivoting table big enough for a TV dinner.

David seemed to cast about for somewhere else to sit, before plopping down there. His looking about seemed to approve of her housekeeping, how clean the trailer was, how everything was in its place. She prided herself on it and liked that he saw it.

She pulled the door to the separate bed area closed a bit, so he wouldn't see it from where he sat. The bed was neatly made, but discarded panties and her big vibrator would give the wrong impression.

Cindy moved to the galley, where she fired up a small counter-top coffee maker. She felt his eyes ogling her as she fiddled with the settings. She was getting aroused by having a handsome man sitting on her sofa.

"Where you in from?" David asked her.

"Over by Sacramento. I can't stand the summer heat, but don't want to commute from the coast," she said. "You live here?"

"Just the last couple of years," David replied. She relaxed a bit: he wasn't going to just disappear in a day or so. This man was turning her on, probably entirely without meaning to.

"You said you'd be here all week. You on vacation?" he asked, shaking her from her reverie.

"I work an unusual schedule: fourteen 10-hour days on, followed by seven days off. This is my off week."

"That is unusual. Do you like it?"

"It's intense and it takes some getting used to, but I like it a lot. Especially the 'off' part. I'll be back somewhere on the coast all summer, every third week."

"Maybe this specific somewhere," she added, silently to herself, "if you're the reward."

"How do you take it? I like mine with plenty of cream," she asked.

She took down the coffee mugs and began to pour. She felt the 'situational anxiety' growing, even though the conversation continued to be entirely innocuous.

"A splash of cream never hurt anything," he replied.

Mm! Was that intentional? She didn't want to scare him away, but she couldn't resist upping the ante.

"No, hot cream in the tummy is the exactly how I like to start my day. Here we are," she said, her smile dimpling slightly. David took a small sip. It was nothing special, but it was hot.

"Hit's the spot," he said. Cindy decided to go all-in. She put her mug down and put her left hand on his knee.

"Gosh," he said, "I'm married and..."

"I just wanted to thank you for your help yesterday."

Cindy could see the conflict her hand raised in him. His leg felt good under her hand, strong and warm. She squeezed his knee just slightly. He shifted, slightly shy, as if suddenly aware of where all his equipment was stored and moving to avoid her accidentally discovering the logjam in his undershorts.

One thing he didn't do was discourage her touch, though. He didn't pull his leg away or flinch. He was looking at her hand, fixated on it, then glanced up to meet her eyes before letting them drop back to the hand. Was this permission? She moved the hand up, higher than mid-thigh. He was married. He'd told her and she could see the gold band on his finger. This was wrong, what she was doing, but... well, it was just friendly. He wasn't stopping her and they didn't know each other. It was wrong, but not, you know

wrong

wrong if they scratched a harmless itch together, she thought.

He raised his mug to swallow more coffee as she leaned closer and whispered, "She's not here and I am. Nobody will ever know. Won't you let me thank you, just this once? After that, we can be just friends."

She moved her hand out of neutral territory and found what she had hoped for. Tangled up inside his pants was an engorging bit of manhood, nice and thick. She smiled as her fingers deftly worked to unkink things. He stared down, not stopping her. She wondered what he was thinking. Was it his wife?

"That's right," she whispered. "That feels good, doesn't it? There's nothing wrong with a friend saying 'thank you', now is there?"

David

"I shouldn't... You don't have to do this..." David croaked. Just like that they'd gone from talking about--what was it? Sacramento?--to having her hand stroking him. He flashed to last night, adding in his head: "... but it has been a long time."

Hadn't he imagined something like this last night? Hadn't he felt a flash of arousal when she'd waved? He hadn't avoided her campsite or just waved and gone on. He'd stopped. He hadn't refused her invitation.

Her hand felt heavenly tugging at him.

"It's just a one-time thing?" he asked. The façade of the confident older man briefly cracked, as he couldn't hide the slight whine in his voice.

"Yes," she said triumphantly. She seemed to glow as, permission in hand, she went from massaging toward stroking the beast in his pants. Deftly she worked his cock upright, letting her make full, long glides of her fingers along its length. He opened his thighs wider and laid back in the seat.

David couldn't remember that last time he felt so huge down there. It had been a long time since he had been touched there by anyone--besides himself. She was focused on

his

pleasure, she sought to excite him.

"Can I see, daddy? We can't be having you mess your pants," she whispered. Cindy was testing his willingness and her own. How far would she take this? How far did he want her to take this? She unbuckled his belt. Yank, yank, and it was free. Two-handed she opened his pants, then slipped to her knees between his. His woody stood erect, like a huge asparagus sprouting from his boxer shorts. Cindy licked her lips.

"Last chance to stop me..." she breathed. He couldn't respond. She brought her mouth closer. He reached a hand up, and she paused, unsure if it was to stop her or not. It was now or never. She bent her lips around the fleshy bulb, pausing to whisper "too late". Her tongue swirled over his glans, savoring the narrow ridge around it. His mouth fell open as her guiding hand pulled down, stretching his skin tight, and making room for her to take him deeply into her mouth.

"Oh," was all he said.

Then her hand was stroking him and, with each stroke, her mouth pushed lower, deeper. She flicked up glances, the corners of her eyes smiling. He felt lost in the bliss of her attack. She was letting her saliva coat him, accentuating the slurping sounds she made as she picked up speed.

This train was going to the station. This train was the express train--no stopping. He felt her snaking her free hand to furtively cupped his sac. She wanted to feel them tighten, rise up. She forced him deeper and deeper still, unable to stifle a strangled "Urk! Urk!" with each sucking descent of her mouth. He was thickening, building-up...

Her off hand poked around and found his back door. Gently her finger then wormed its way past the sphincter. He jumped and squirmed, alarmed by the invader, but she worked it in. One knuckle, two. His quivering prostate was hers to milk. He bellowed like a bull, insides churning around her finger, hips bucking as a torrent of hot spend poured out into her mouth. At first, she sucked hard, gulping and swallowing to the tune of his fountaining gusher. She let her finger slide free, propelled by the waves of bliss shuddering through his body. She kept the last bits of his cream on her tongue, gooey.