They call it Picnic Rock, so named because generations ago, it was the hot spot to cool down for city dwellers that came to the beach where the rock was in the tiny village on the coast for its beautiful scenery and cooling waters and breeze.
It retained the name and though not as popular as it once was for actual picnics, it was a magnificent outcropping of New England granite
that was a perfect backdrop for family photos, generations gathering on the great water-eroded mounded top, weddings and also fishermen plying the saltwater for trophy catches. It was also a wonderfully noisy craggy outcropping that bellowed with waves slapping its front when the tide came in.
And it's where Tom proposed to his wife, Libby, 42 years ago, she accepted, and they had impromptu, moonlit sex.
He stood on the porch and looked out over the sea late one night from the small cottage he and his wife rented, as they had for decades. The beach was several hundred yards away, and lying before the cottage in a green blanket leading to the beach was a spread of rosa ragosa, hardy beach vegetation with beautiful red flowers.
He looked out over that, a place of serenity at night, bathed in the glow of the moon, starry skies all around, and took comfort from the familiarity.
Tom and Libby had brought their children here for years, and their children's children, but often stealing away at night for a romantic walk on the beach, and to Picnic Rock.
Those walks became less frequent as they got older, however, and now in their early 60s, they hardly came for those walks at all. Tom blamed himself for that, his romantic yearning burning far less brightly than it once did, something that wasn't Libby's fault. The tall, lean, athletic silver-haired grandmother still had it, a body that though giving way somewhat to the ravages of time with sags and wrinkles in the usual spots, around her tanned face, supple cleavage, and long, sturdy legs, was still damned attractive. But Tom hadn't been paying the attention he should have.
Other men noticed her, he'd seen it, men of all ages, but particularly younger men, much younger, men the ages of their teen grandchildren. It aroused and hurt him all at once.
He'd been dozing this night in the cozy living room of the cottage, a constant sea breeze calming him, making him sleepy, and when he woke, Libby was gone. He figured she'd taken a walk, without him, to Picnic Rock, as she'd taken to doing in recent years. He loved her keenly, always had, but the years of raising a family, running a business, and dealing with his own aging slowed down his romantic urges.
Earlier that day, he'd watched with keen interest as Libby, in a bright yellow one piece that revealed much of that gorgeous granny body, had chatted up Brad, the 19-year-old lifeguard on the small private beach where their cottage was located, set back behind beach shrubbery.
If Tom didn't know better, he'd swear she was flirting with the shy young man, batting her big brown eyes and when the young man wasn't looking, checking out his fine, tanned, muscular body, particularly the noticeable bulge in the front of his trunks that Tom also swore got bigger in those times when Libby wasn't looking and he would furtively check her out.
He thought no more of it, as day turned to night, and now he found himself rousing from a short nap at midnight, wondering where his wife was. He yawned, stretched, slipped on his beach shoes and strode out into the cool moonlit night, looking out over it all, then taking the familiar path to the beach, figuring to find her there, a sudden urge welling within to rekindle their romance. Picnic Rock was, after all, a most romantic spot, and one where their love, physical and emotional, bloomed so many decades ago.
He turned the corner on the path, the beach sprawled before him, Picnic Rock 100 or so yards to his left. There, in the moonlight, stood his wife, Libby, wearing her familiar white linen beach dress, with straps over her slender shoulders that revealed that delicious cleavage, and hung to about mid-thigh on tanned, muscular legs. She stood, hands behind her, looking out over the ocean, the breeze catching her dress, blowing it up behind her, revealing even more of those beautiful legs, and more.
Tom smiled, straining his eyes to see, and the wind whipped the dress up higher. Much to his surprise, she didn't seem to be wearing panties, furthering his resolve to light Libby's fire anew as he walked slowly toward the rock, watching his beautiful wife's face smiling in the moon's glow, her long, silver hair blowing around her smooth shoulders.
He was about to call out when he saw her turn, a beaming smile on her pretty face. He watched as in the moonlight, Brad walked up the other way. The wind was blowing Tom's way and he clearly heard the young man call out "Libby! So glad you decided to come!"
Tom stopped in his tracks, stunned by the words, more so when he saw Libby's smile beaming larger, brighter as she saw the young man, wearing no shirt and a loose pair of running shorts, walk toward her.
"I told you I'd be here, young man," she laughed, the words carrying back to Tom, who ducked behind a small beach shed just near Picnic Rock, peeking around the corner, not wanting to hear what he was hearing. "I always keep my promises."
And then Brad scrambled up the great mounded rock and took Tom's willing wife in his strong arms, holding her close, wrapping her tightly in his embrace and kissing her, gently at first, then with mounting passion as Libby returned the kiss, and they stood in the moonlight making out like the young lovers Tom and Libby were in the same spot too long ago.
Tom slumped back against the shed, out of sight, tears welling in his eyes. He steeled himself to peer, trembling, around the corner, where the lovers were moaning into each other's open mouths, tongues flashing, finding the other.
"Oh, Brad, I probably shouldn't...I mean I never have," she whispered, the strong wind carrying her soft words to Tom's stunned ears not 25 feet away, taking little comfort from the 'never have' part. "But it's been so long..too long..and you...you're so sweet, so kind....so ...so eager..."
She buried her face in his brawny young shoulder, his arms around her, comforting her.
"We don't have to, Libby, we really don't," Brad said, insincerity clinging to the words. "It's your call. You decided. I want you, want you so badly, have wanted you since the first time I saw you this weekend on the beach...but it's up to you...."
Tom's heart ached for her to rebut him, to return to the cottage where he'd make love to her all night long, doubling his usual one Viagra if necessary, anything to keep her to him. He looked. She smiled up at the tall, blonde-haired lifeguard.
"I want you, too, Brad," she hissed, framing his face in her bony hands, pulling it to her for a tongue-searching kiss. "Soooooooooo much..."
Tears streamed down Tom's disbelieving face as they kissed passionately for a long moment before breaking, Brad smiling, taking Libby's little old hand in his and leading her down the mound of rock to a sandy patch below, hidden from view, protected from the water, a little oasis that many young lovers had used over the years. Tom waited, not wanting his feet to betray him and drag him toward the rock, but they did and he shambled to it slowly, coming around the other side where he knew an outcropping of craggy rock would hide him, one he could peer around to that little patch of sand within.
He walked on his knees the last few feet, the position of subservience suddenly seeming fitting, and put his trembling hands on the rocks, looking to the side. He blinked, disbelieving: There, his beautiful wife of 42 years was naked, on her knees, madly stroking a cock far bigger and fatter than his own into the mewing pucker of her wrinkled mouth, one hand jerking it sturdily up and down, her lips smacking around it, the other hand between Brad's naked thighs, cupping his huge balls, squeezing and milking them.
He was hypnotized, watching Beth's little head bob back and forth in perfect synchronicity with the motions of her bony little hand, the forearm sinew of that arm dancing beneath her darkly tanned skin. She had her eyes closed, scrunched with the intensity of focus, as she worked that big cock into her moaning face in a way she had never done with Tom over the last 42 years.
"Oh, God, Libby, I've never had my cock sucked so good!" Brad moaned, hands brushing away Libby's sweaty silver hair from her gorgeous face as she opened her eyes to look up at the stud she was blowing with appreciation. "No one, ever!"
"Gimme your load, stud!" Tom heard Libby say, words he'd never her even approximate before, not even in their younger days, certainly not their later years when any semblance of a blowjob was too much to even hint at. "I wanna taste it in my mouth, I want your hot cum all over my face and these!"
With that, she popped her mouth back on Brad's dripping dong and hoisted her saggy white tits up with both hands, twisting the nipples, moaning around the thick dick plunging in and out of her puckered mouth. Brad arched his back, his young, white ass hollowed out in firm muscle as he did.
"Gonna....cum...oh, shit, Libby....you're making...me...CUMMMM!!!!"
Now Libby put both hands on that huge prick, twisting up and down in opposite directions as she suckled the giant spurting knob in her mouth, a technique Tom had only seen in the porno clips he watched online to bolster a non-existent sex life with his wife, the same wife now employing a technique she seemed to take to naturally, twisting those tanned, smooth, freckled arms and hands and jerking the jetting dick into her welcoming lips.
