The joy of living by the sea is always felt in the summer. During the winter it is a beauty and sometimes a reminder of the harshness of the natural world, but for the entirety of the summer months, it was a tranquil haven. Particularly this seldom discovered spot. Surrounded by a magnificent forest of palm trees and cordylines, it is known, to the few that found it, as La Pequena Playa Secreta or simply El Delicioso. Days, sometimes weeks, could go by without a single barefooted visitor. The sand was so fresh it looked almost unnatural, but this was an unspoilt region, ripe with nature.
She, propped up by her bag about the neck, faced away from the sea. She loved the surprise of the sound of a wave breaking without seeing it. The breeze crept all the way down her bikini-clad front. The air almost felt as good as a touch. Often she laid closed-eyed, for hours at a time, enjoying the peace and the calm, but today she decided to take in her scene. As the wave breaks became calmer, she became aware of someone beyond the beach, within the low-level canopy. She had to cast her mind back a while to remember the last time she encountered someone on this beach. It was two summers prior and it was a couple of children who ventured a little too far. This was clearly no child. It was a man. His frame was apparent, even from this distance, though she only had a side view up to this point. She watched closely, even adjusting her position to support her curious gaze. He left the trees and settled on the beach. He had seen her, she could feel it, but he gave no clue that he had.
He was enjoying this aimless walk that had found an aim. As his body settled into the remarkable sand he pulled off his shirt and placed it at his side. He had seen her before. Twice. But she had never been alert enough to notice. He didn’t make a habit of wishing to bump into her, eyes open, but it was something he had always imagined. Now he had her, awake, he had to be cautious. Maybe she wasn’t as free and open as he….he’d love to find out…
Who is he? He looks local – deep tan, his shorts are handmade and sold only in the local town, but he was a stranger. She closed her eyes. What was she to do? How do you approach a stranger? She was ready to take any step required to speak…touch…this stranger. She gathered her thoughts, almost as quickly as her belongings and headed over to him. She felt surprisingly calm and focused, but was, as yet, without a clear plan. She dropped her things, her silk scarf she wore around her waist in the summer, found its way to her hand.
He felt her, could hear her, approaching. He hoped. Just as he was about to look up and view her, her voice prevented his eyes from opening “seguir el panuelo rojo” she instructed. Her voice was soft but clear. It sat in his ears for a moment and after a few seconds he opened his eyes. All his senses were alive. His eyes were drawn instantly to his target. The scarf poked through the side of the bottoms to her bikini. He tracked it as he raised himself. His legs wanted to move faster but he slowed them purposely. She reached the brink of the ocean and her pace remained. He was 20 or so paces from her. She glistened in a way the sea would have admired. He was gaining on her as she became knee deep. She stopped. She was short but perfectly formed. His eyes were most fond of her cute little arse, but he dragged them to look at her hair. It was long, dark and wild. He wanted a handful, a mouthful, an eyeful was not nearly enough.
The water teased at her thighs. Her chest was raised and she could not relax. The waves felt as though they were creeping up her legs. The scarf lashed in and out of the water, spraying her right leg with salty, light droplets. She could feel herself sweating. Not from heat but from want. The sun was almost setting and the water was slightly cool. She would have loved to watch him walk but at the same time she didn’t want to see. She wanted to feel. She suddenly realised her p****, it was pumping, visibly. She looked down and could see it moving. This wasn’t new to her, she had always had this phenomena, but usually it was during the last few moments before a deep, satisfying orgasm. Her p**** wanted her to touch and she couldn’t resist. Her hand ran along the side of cloth covering her perfect little p****. Wet, so wet. This light touch kept the quivering at bay….
Ankle deep he stopped. Just a few meters away he could smell her. She was still. He did notice her hand moving as he entered the sea but now she was still. He wanted to savour this moment. He knew he was going to touch her, but this time before he had even spoke to her was intense. He could feel his c*** aching to be released, so he obliged. Swiftly removing his shorts he approached her gently, hovering closer against the flow of the tide.
“Voy a seguirlo…. pero donde?”he quizzed. His voice was deeper than most. The pause between his words fuelled her desire to turn to him. He seemed a world more calm and collected than she felt. She pulled the scarf out and guided it to her front, and, she thought, out of his sight. She could hear only his foot steps. His wet, definite footsteps. She began to walk into the water, and she could hear him follow her. She stopped where the waves met her wet p**** and remained, waiting…wanting….
He wanted his lips to touch her first so he lowered them to where the scarf was initially placed. His next kiss was a little higher, up passed her mid-thigh. The third lingered at her waist. He brought his hand to the other side of her waist. She was warm and oily. He raised to kiss her neck, still crouching. A face-full of her hair didn’t detract from the intent. He could now see the scarf and reached round to hold it by either end, and with it, he pulled her close against him. Hearing her exhale made his c*** stiffen enough for it to part her legs a little. With that he stood tall, his c*** rushing up her arse and resting on her back. She gasped again. His ears wanted to orgasm.
All her senses were becoming satiated. The smell of his…..the smell of him, and the sea air made her lightheaded, she felt as though she were driftwood, but with a purpose. His hand, his chest – heaving against her back, his arms, restrictive but safe, had her breathless. She watched his hands as they consumed her every inch, they were strong but gracious in their motion. The sound of the waves crashing in her ears with the soft sound of his pursed lips kissing her – in no rush. She felt she was being enjoyed. But it was her sixth sense, her imagination that was at its peak. She wanted to be held and feel him deep inside her and it would be deep, she could tell as his c***, thick and pulsing, edged into her field of vision between her weakening legs. She reached down and started to play with the tip of him, her wet hands brought a growl of delight that cancelled out the white noise of the ocean.
He could feel his c*** ready to devour her p****, he could already feel she was ready, grinding back against him. His hand took a journey down her torso and around her thighs. His forefinger grasped her bikini and brushed it aside. His finger was almost dripping with the merest of touches. This release was accompanied by the deepest, yearn-filled groan of all. It continued, even got louder as he pulled her up by her p****, putting his fingers directly on her Gspot. She let him take her weight, not by choice, her legs were giving way. His strength made her wetter. His fingers, skilled and direct, made her wetter. His lips, teeth, ravishing her neck made her wetter. Her legs started to fight amongst themselves as she began to c**, expelling sexual energy across the ocean. Her chest was so tight, her head felt tingles, which ran all over her body. She felt she was at boiling point….She burst, all over his hands. His c*** was in need. His c*** was needed.
She turned to face his with her eyes closed and leaned back to get deeper. The sea was around her c***, lashing at it hungrily. The thin layer of water lubricated their touch of legs. She momentarily looked at his face, his eyes were focused downwards- her p**** was his aim. She allowed him to tease his way in, instantly he grabbed her tight by the arse and lifted her, guided her, right along his length. He only gave her half of his fat shaft. She opened her eyes again to see his fixed on her face. He was red. He was deep in concentration, the way you only concentrate when you are f******, she thought with a smile. He smirked back before pulling her down, all the way onto him. He was filling her up. The pleasure ate up the slight discomfort of his size; she loved that battle or pain and pleasure. The war of the two taking place inside her, her lips were swelling with delight. It was delicious. So long she had waited to be f***** this deep. Her hips started to work, allowing his c*** to become submerged inside her fully. She could see him beginning to climax, it came so quickly she didn’t have time to make him work for it. He was pumping inside her…pumping her full of his juice. Amazing. It continued and gave her a mini orgasm in comparison to the one she was given by his hands, but it was huge by all other measures.
They both winced with each wave of orgasm, his lasting significantly longer than any man she had known before. He kissed her, carrying her back to the beach. He kissed her carrying her back to her home. He kissed her to sleep. They hardly spoke any words but both knew this was the beginning of something exciting….
This piece was written by renylffo a TBW member. Lots of our members are talented at writing erotic fiction and we’re happy to publish anything we find that is really good.
