Meetings
1 Feb 2019


You're lying on the beach. I see you. Admire you. Try not to let you know I'm looking at you. I lay my towel at a respectable distance and lie down. I read my book but often glance beyond it just to watch your body. I love it when you stand and stretch and go to the water to cool off and come back and towel yourself dry and lie down once more. I love the way your body moves. The inadvertent poses you strike while towelling. I don't think you notice me that day.

The next day I arrive at the beach and see you laying out in almost the same place. I walk by you, past your feet. You glance at me. I smile. You smile back. I lay my towel at a respectful distance, and again I watch you constantly. Admiring your body. Your face. Your tan body and flat stomach. I see you check your tan lines a few times. You move your bikini bottom aside just a little. It drives me crazy. You roll on to your front and undo your bikini top. God, I want you to raise your body so I can catch a peek at a breast. You nearly do when you reach around to tie it once more when you go to cool off. Again, I watch you closely as your go to the water, take a dip and come back. The sun shining on your wet body. You dry yourself, adjust your bikini, I have to stop myself from groaning aloud. As you lie down you catch me looking in your direction and smile. I smile back. I should have left half an hour ago but I wait until you leave. I think about following but it is too creepy. I wait 10 more minutes and leave.

The next day I arrive and you are there once more. My heart beats and I feel a rush in my groin. My swimsuit is red, tiny and skin tight. There is little room for movement without it being very obvious. If I let myself, I could go erect. I calm myself and walk by you. You see me again, recognize me from yesterday and say "Hi." I say, "Hey," in return and we share a smile. I lay my towel a little closer. Take out my book and pretend to read as I watch you and turn over fantastic fantasies in my head. We make eye contact several times and smile and it seems cool. I catch you checking me out a few times. I nearly come over to talk to you but just as I am about to you start packing to leave. Your body moves exquisitely. The way your breasts hang when you bend over. You bend way over to get your bag and your arse is pointed right at me. Oh sweet Jesus. Just before you leave to walk away you wave. I wave back and smile to you again.

The next day I arrive again and there you are. I slow down as I walk up. I see you smile when you see me. I stop and say something lame, "Hi, I guess we're on the same beach schedule." You smile and agree. We make a little small talk. The weather, the book I'm reading, just stuff. It feels natural just to sit next to you and keep chatting. I eventually spread out my towel next to you and lie down as well. We chat. You tell me you've seen me checking you out. I say I have but I'm only human. It is fun. Easy. Natural.

At some point we talk about tan lines. I think they are nature's lingerie. You move the bikini strap across your hip to show me yours. I move mine aside to show you mine. You lie on your front and undo your bikini top while we chat. I catch you looking at the swelling in my bathers as I turn and lie on my front as well. You ask if I'd mind putting some lotion on your back. Why no, no I wouldn't mind at all. I turn on my side and do it one handed. I am thoroughly aware of my impending erection. You know it too. You throw a long lingering gaze as my cock swells as much as possible without bursting from my bathers.

I am caressing your back, rubbing the lotion into your warm skin, trailing along the line of your bikini bottom. We are both intensely aware there are others on the beach. No one has noticed us. No one is watching us. You stretch your nearest arm to me out so your hand is close, oh so close, to my contained erection. If I lay on my front again it would fall into your hand. I lotion your thighs. I let a fingertip just flirt under the elastic of your bikini bottom. All the while we're making small talk, just easy, casual chat. Nothing acknowledging the intense sexual flow that is crashing between us.

When I've lotioned you a little more than it is reasonable to lotion someone, with a glance and a toss of your head to the side, you motion me to lie down. Your hand is still there. You move sand aside to make a small depression and motion me again to lie on your hand. I do and the touch is electric. I feel the thrill in your body. With a quick flip of your fingers you pull out my bathers and my erection springs out into your hand. It lies there. Your fingertips just at the base of my cock where my balls start. The head of my cock against your wrist.

We lie there, our faces so close, looking into each other's eyes. You fingers moving just barely. Your hand pressing against me just barely. We can't move. We can't be overt. People are too close. People are walking by. It is the most intense handjob I have ever had. You can see my breathing, see me gasp, staring deep in my eyes. I really want to take you there. Roll you over. Rip your bikini away in my teeth and plunge myself into you. We can't. It is way too public.

I try to move my arm to cross yours so my hand can reach under your stomach but our crossing arms is awkward so I settle for resting my arm on top of yours with my hand between your upper arm and your side near your boob. I want you to grasp my cock and just fucking go for it. But we can't. It is exquisite. The agony of wanting you this much, the inability to go further than we are. You whisper to me, "When was the last time you fucked in the back seat of a car?" "Thirty years I guess," I tell you.

And in ten minutes we are back at your car and in ten more we are in a secluded spot and we fuck like teenagers. Your brown sun-glowing body so beautiful. Your breasts so white against that tan. Your nipples so inviting. We fuck and contort and bend each other into improbable shapes and fuck and fuck and fuck. The windows of the car are wet with condensation. Exhausted, we wrap ourselves in each other and gasp for breath. Our sweat pouring over each other.

When you drop me back at my car and I watch you drive off I realise I don't know your name and I never told you mine. I hope you will be at the beach tomorrow.


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