The Beach Affair

Except for the air conditioning there was no escape from the muggy heat that was as thick and warm as split pea soup. Not even at six thirty in the morning when I thought I could slip outside to enjoy the outdoors in solitude.
It wasn’t as if I was ungrateful for my sister’s invitation to spend a week with her and her family at their summer home on Kiawah Island. They had the place for three years and this time she insisted that I join them, especially when I said I was thinking about taking some time off work to travel.

“I can’t let you go somewhere by yourself,” Lucinda said. “All you’ll have to do is pay for your flight down here. It’ll be fun … just me, you and the kids. Believe me, I’d appreciate the adult company while Jeff is back home at work.”

It was an invitation that was hard to refuse, but as much as I loved my sister and her kids, it wasn’t my idea of a vacation. My kids were in and beyond college, and I really wanted some “me” time. I had something more in mind like exploring the Wine Country or going to a culinary retreat in California. Shuttling my niece and nephew back and forth to swimming and tennis lessons at the club was not my idea of a vacation. Been there, done that, and doing it on a Chi-Chi resort island didn’t make it any more appealing.

Lucinda and the kids wouldn’t be up until eight. I figured that I had about an hour and a half to get a bike ride in. I just hoped that I could find my way around without getting lost on the roads where I had no sense of direction and every cottage looked the same. At least I had a pretty good idea of how to get to the beach and back.

It was a bit cooler by the water and the waves were much calmer than they were during the day when the shoreline was packed with families. It was quiet and serene. For as much as I thought of sunrises above the ocean as being cliché, the lemon-orange sherbet-colored orb rising above the Atlantic horizon was something I just couldn’t take for granted. Why no one else was there astounded me. How could anyone come here and sleep through this?

The sound of the water lapping up on the hard-packed sand lulled me into taking off my sandals and stepping in, first to my ankles and then to my knees. The warm salt water felt almost therapeutic and hypnotic. I wanted to go in farther but I wasn’t dressed for the water. I didn’t think to wear my bathing suit.

I looked to the houses that lined the beachfront. Most of them had their blinds and curtains drawn over the windows. Could I possibly get away with shedding my shorts and tank top for a quick au naturel dip?

Sure. Why not? Even if someone saw me, they wouldn’t know who I was.

I came out just quickly enough to toss my clothes by my sandals before walking back into the water. I was surprised how wonderful it felt for my body to make direct contact with the warm, moist air and the gentle water. My naked skin and exposed curves never felt so elegantly pampered. It was liberating.

I waded out waist-high in the water and enjoyed the quiet company of the waves and the rising sun … until I heard the sound of running footsteps approaching in the not-so-far distance.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tall, well-toned man making a purposeful run along the sand where the water came up to the shoreline. I quickly ducked in the water to hide the parts of my body that I was just welcoming with the world around me. As he sprinted between me and my pile of clothes in the sand, he gave me a nod and a smile … and kept going.

When I saw that he was down the beach at a safe distance, I got out of the water, got back into my clothes, and headed back onto my bike. My T-shirt clung to my wet skin and pert nipples. I thought it would be best to hurry back and shower and change before my sister and her kids woke up.

As for the man who ran by and saw me naked in the water, I was sure that I wouldn’t see him again. There had to be a couple of thousand people on the island. What were the chances?

I volunteered to pick up my nephew from his tennis lesson that afternoon. When I came to collect him at the courts, the man, accompanied with a younger man about 30 — his son, I assumed — walked straight in our direction. They slipped off to the side to let us through. The man smiled at me. He obviously recognized me.

“That man was checking you out. You still got it, Aunt Bobbie,” my nephew Hamilton said in all of his fourteen years of wisdom.

“Still?” I said, giving him a playful swat on the side of his head.

Hamilton had no idea how grateful I was that I had him there to run interference for what could have been a very awkward moment if I had been there by myself. If he wasn’t there, would the man have said something to me? And what would I have I said back to him? “Hi. Yes. I was that naked lady you saw at the beach this morning.”

As we walked toward the car in the parking lot, the man drove by. He didn’t wave, but he was still smiling and gave me a wink.

I got up before the others in the next morning, and again I wanted to slip out for an hour or so to have some time and the beach to myself. This time, I put on my bathing suit under my T-shirt and shorts. As much as I reveled in nothing but nature between me and my skin, I knew I’d be pushing it … especially if that man came by again.

I spent a good half-hour sitting on the edge of the ocean letting the water run under my legs as I picked small shells out of the sand. This time, I was completely left alone except for my thoughts of the previous day.

There was something absolutely charming about that man. That smile that he cast at me on the beach and at the tennis house was adoring and appreciative. It felt nice to be looked at that way. If I met him in a more social situation, I could see sharing a cocktail and a conversation with him. And then what afterward? Dinner for two on an outdoor patio as the sun faded into the trees? A kiss in the moonlight? Would he pull me in close with his hands that wandered down the small of my back and over the curve of my ass? Would his fingers dare sneak under the fabric of my dress and run up the side of my torso to clasp the roundness of my breast?

I wasn’t just thinking that. I actually had a palmful of my breast in my hand while wading in the water fantasizing about him. I didn’t even remember how I got out deep enough to be doing that.

“Girl, what are you thinking?” I said to myself as I walked up to the shore. “It was a twice random encounter. You never said a word to him and chances are you’ll never see him again. But let’s face it. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a man. It’s about time you went out and met someone.”

I toweled off, slipped my running shorts over my suit, and headed back to my bike. Secretly, I was disappointed that I didn’t see that man running down the beach while I was there. It was only me, myself and I the whole time.

I was still preoccupied with the fantasy of that man when I got back to my sister’s cottage. The kids were still asleep, but she was already up and making a pot of coffee. She could tell that I was lost in thought. I couldn’t tell her why, but I confided that I thought it was time that I started dating again.

“It’s about time!” she said. “Just make sure that he’s handsome, rich, and has no dependents.”

We both laughed. I told her that I’d settle for handsome, but she was serious about the rich and no dependents part. She started taking inventory of all the single men at my brother-in-law’s firm and promised that she’d set me up with one of them as soon as she got home.

By the next morning I had erased whatever flights of fancy I had about that man out of my head. I threw on my bathing suit, slipped on a pair of running shorts, hopped on the bike and headed back to the beach.

This time I saw the man running along the beach as I walked toward the water. If he smiled at me as he ran by, I’d smile back. The attention would be nice and whatever fantasies I had about him would be exactly that … fantasies.

But this time he stopped when our paths intersected.

“Now this is fate,” he said with that same smile and gleam in his eye that had me consumed for a good two full days.
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I couldn’t pretend that I had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’m Jim,” he said as he extended his hand for a shake.

“Bobbie,” I said.

His hand lingered on mine for a little while longer than it should have. It almost felt like an embrace, but he pulled away with a politeness and asked if I would join him for a walk.

He asked what brought me out to the water early in the morning. I told him that I was escaping the mugginess and a little too much family together time.

“Well, I like to get my run in before it gets too warm, and, yes, it gets me out of the house, too,” he said, “I’m here with my daughters, their husbands, and their kids. It gets a little too rambunctious a little too quickly in the day.”

We exchanged the same smile and giggle. I had the feeling that he was grateful to have a confidant that wouldn’t judge him for wanting sometime away from his family.

“And I have to be honest,” he added. “ I was really hoping that I could ‘accidentally’ run into you again and see you …”

I looked out toward the water where I had been reveling in my nudity the other morning and then smiled at him.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I’m a man. You have a beautiful body. But it wasn’t just your body. It was your spirit, that joie de vivre that I saw and felt when you were out there. I just had to find you and get to know you.”

“Well, that’s not the usual me, hence the bathing suit today,” I said. “I normally don’t go flaunting myself around like Lady Godiva in front of passers-by.”

He brought me in close with his hand at the small of my back to plant a firm kiss on my lips.

It wasn’t just a kiss. His body and presence consumed me as his other arm wrapped around my shoulder. His other hand slid up the back of my neck. His fingers wove through my hair. His warm, rapid breath enveloped and hypnotized me. Then he pulled his lips just far enough away to whisper, “I want to be the man like the woman I saw in the water the other morning.”

I kissed him back, this time sucking lushly on his upper lip. My finger slid just underneath the waistband of his running shorts to pull them down gently. His fingers slipped the straps of my bathing suit off my shoulders. Within seconds, my bare breasts were pressed against his firm and solid chest.

We flung off the clothes that were hanging off our bodies and ran into the water hand in hand. We got in deep enough so that the water both shrouded and cradled us. The weightlessness of the salt cradled me perfectly in his embrace. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his ass. His manhood brushed against my tingly mound, bumping into it as if I were a boat waiting to be anchored.

The sereneness of the morning shoreline took on windswept turn. Our bodies tousled and stirred the water. We hung onto each other not for safety, but for one exciting ride. I couldn’t seem to get close enough to him for the comfort and the thrill. We bucked and splashed as hard as we could to weather the storm we were creating. I felt myself fall into him when I felt his inner propeller blast inside of me in short, powerful bursts.

As our passions subsided, the sun was rising faster above the water. We both knew that we couldn’t stay to float and linger. Someone was bound to intrude on this private interlude.

We ran back to the beach and scrambled to towel off and get our clothes on, but he didn’t take his eyes off of me.

“That was amazing … you were amazing,” he whispered as he kissed me. “I have to see you again.”

I could have easily spent the rest of the morning, if not the day with him, but we both had families waiting for us.

“Tonight?” he asked. “I could get out for a cigar. It’s verboten in the house. A half-hour. Forty-five minutes tops. Say around nine thirty?”

“I really don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what we have planned.”

“Please, please … do what you can,” he said as he gave me a kiss goodbye.

I was lost in a daydream all that day. But was it a dream? Did I automatically succumb to a man I didn’t know? And did I make plans to see again that I knew I might not be able to keep?

I really wanted to keep those plans, but when the kids said they wanted to play Risk after dinner, I knew that I couldn’t make an easy exit. It was a game that I enjoyed with my kids when they were younger, and they passed on the bouts of international family rivalry to Lucinda’s kids. The main rule was that we didn’t give kids a break. It was a great exercise in critical thinking and strategy and not to mention lots of raucous revelry.

As the clock turned to eight and then to nine, my focus slipped drastically. Hamilton wiped out the bulk of my troops in Asia and Africa. Emily took a clean sweep of North America and Europe. Lucinda took no mercy on my few remaining men cornered in Australia and South America. By twenty after nine, I was out of the game.

“I’m out,” I said as I got out of my chair. “I think I’ll take a walk.”

Lucinda got up, too.

“You know what, I’ll join you,” she said. “It won’t take long for the kids to take me out, too. Besides, Cholmondeley could use a walk before we get to bed.”

Lucinda leashed up her rambunctious Chocolate Lab who looked like he needed to get out, too.

“Umm … Actually, I have plans,” I said.

“You do?” she asked.

“I’m going out to meet someone … someone I met on the beach this morning,” I confessed.

Lucinda unlatched the leash from Cholmondeley’ s collar, raised an eyebrow, and gave me a look that said, “Dish, girl.”

“I’ll tell you all about him when I get back, but right now, I’m running late,” I said.

Lucinda tossed me the keys to her Dakota and whispered out of earshot of the kids, “Just make sure that you’re back before the kids wake up.”

I don’t know how I made the drive the few blocks to the parking lot at the beach. My head was spinning. The small beam of light from the miniature flashlight on Lucinda’s keychain jerked and wobbled like my footsteps through the tree-lined path to the beach.

I couldn’t remember feeling this nervous about seeing a man since I snuck out of the house to see a boy I knew my parents wouldn’t approve of when I was sixteen … except this time I wasn’t going to lose my virginity in the front seat of a ’72 Mach 1. But sex on the beach with a man I didn’t know … at my age? Maybe it was a good thing that I felt like I was sixteen again, but I didn’t want him to see it.

I stopped at the end of the path before I got to the beach to catch my breath. I wanted to look confident and composed … like a woman, not a girl … when Jim saw me. I slipped off my flip flops, started out in the sand, and could see a dark outline of Jim gazing at a handful of stars sprinkled over the water. As I got closer, the sweet and smoky wafts of his cigar hit my nostrils like the sound of the waves that ended their journey as soon as they hit the sand.

“’Evening,” I said, part bashfully and part not wanting to break the moment in which he seemed to be basking.

He turned around and didn’t say a word. Instead, he pulled me in close and gave me a long, moist kiss until he said, “Lucky for us, I’m able to stay out later than I thought. They all passed out before nine.”

I told him that I was told to be back before the kids got up. It was the levity it seemed we both needed to let out deep sighs and smiles.

He already had a large blanket laid out on the sand. He motioned for me to have a seat and then poured two glasses of a Napa Cabernet into plastic cups. Once again, I felt like a teenager sneaking out for the night, but at least the wine was much better than the four dollar a bottle of whatever my friends and I would pitch in to swill when we were kids. It was much better. Notes of nutmeg and berries lingered in my mouth much like his warm, moist tongue did just moments before.

It felt joyfully odd to talk about ourselves after we had that wild and impetuous romp in the water that morning, but we were genuinely interested in each other. We talked about where we lived, where we grew up, our families and work. It turned out that he was a best-selling novelist. I knew his books were filled with history, mystery and intrigue, but I was embarrassed to say that I never read them.

“I do some writing for my work,” I said. “But what I wite is a lot more dry and boring.”

His hears perked up, and said, “Talent comes in many forms, especially if it brings in a paycheck. So what do you write?”

“Donation requests, grants,” I said. “Stuff that will put you to sleep on the first page.”

He leaned in, came nose-to-nose with me, and whispered, “Challenge yourself,” he said. “Write something about this evening.”

His lips came almost a whisker’s separation from mine and I busted out laughing like a giddy school girl. My wine splashed in the air and landed all over my lap. It was a completely silly and inappropriate response for the seductive mood he was trying to set, but I was still a nervous wreck. Giving into an impulsive moment was one thing; being romanced under the stars on quiet beach by a man who was too handsome and gentlemanly for belief was another
As I toweled myself off, I was sure that I had completely ruined the evening, especially when he slid away from me backward on his hands and knees.

But then he bowed down, took the towel out of my hand, and started licking the wine off my skin starting at my knees and worked his way up the top and inside of my thighs.

My rapid, nervous breaths turned into sighs as he pulled my shorts and panties past my hips and down my legs. He worked his way up back up my legs with his fingers caressing, kneading and flexing every toe and working his thumbs into the arches of my feet and the back of my calves. His eyes were fixed on mine, saying that he wanted me without speaking a word. I responded by propping my knees up and spreading my legs as he moved closer.

He kept looking at me as he slid his thumb up and down the crevice between the top of my leg and the smooth, swelling mound that was tingling for his attention.

He came up and locked his eyes closer to mine as his fingers unfurled the delicate, slick petals of skin that had blossomed between the full lips of my outer labia. My clipped, quiet breaths spoke volumes of my desire without saying a word. My lips and tongue reached out to nibble and suck on his faster and more fervently with every stroke of his gentle fingertips below. My entire body shook and wobbled until I couldn’t hold myself up. I fell onto my back and hoisted my legs on top of his shoulders.

He cupped his hands in the fullness of my bottom cheeks and licked and sucked the sweet nectar that was trickling from inside of me. His tongue lapped and savored every drop from my bottomless chalice of nectar. My body pulsed and throbbed from the inside out, feeding a growing and insatiable hunger to touch and taste him, too.

I rolled around to strip him down to his skin to feel the toned and limbered muscles of his legs and his buttocks. I brushed my cheek against his shaft as my fingers and tongue searched for parts of his body that made it harden and stiffen. It sprang straight to attention as my tongue lapped at the clear and salty dew that sprang out from the top. I encapsulated my lips and mouth over the tip and down his cock. Our muffled moans overtook the sounds of the wind and the waves that pulled us together.

Our hands roamed over every inch of our bodies as we indulged in each other’s pleasures. I wanted to feel as much of his body and his sensations as I possibly could. At the same time, I wanted more of him, and not just his mouth and his tongue that had catapulted me into another dimension and space of mind.

I never thought about the usual impossibility of tossing a man a good twelve inches taller than me onto his back. I never thought about being in control of myself and the moment when I staked myself on top of him and plunged my juicy pussy on top of his cock.

The look on his face was amazingly delightful. He gasped. His eyes lit up. I felt empowered in hearing every “Yes!” that came out of his mouth every time I came down on him. His cries turned louder and almost indecipherable the faster and deeper I took him in. As I pressed my hands down tighter on his shoulders and his chest, it felt as if his entire body was going to self-combust. At the same time, I couldn’t tell the difference between the way my body and my mind felt. It felt like they were both one in the same, hanging on the edge of the most incredible thrill ride.

He flipped me around to slide into me harder, faster and wetter. It was if he knew that I wanted that feeling of falling, tumbling and spinning all at the same time. When I felt as if I was headed at the end of my free fall, I could feel his body release and shoot a hot, creamy blast inside of me. He kept pumping away inside of me until our intensity faded into the slow and mellow rush of waves of the water behind us.

We finished off the wine as we lay tangled with our arms and legs wrapped around each other. He seemed eager to extract every detail and thought about me … my favorite flower, my favorite song, and my wish for the evening to never end.

He stroked a finger on the side of my cheek and said, “I don’t want it to end either, but we’re leaving tomorrow.”

I sighed. I knew this wouldn’t last. I was grateful to get this much time with him, but I didn’t expect it to end as soon as it started.

He saw the bittersweet look on my face, reached for his shorts, pulled out his Android, and said, “And this is why the phone was invented.”

We kept in touch over texts and calls and Skype over the weeks and months following our rendezvous on the beach. I even wrote that story about our night together. With the help of some fine tuning from him, I managed to get it published on an erotica website. It got glowing ratings and comments from readers who said they wanted to read more about this couple.

Then there was another comment that read: “I’d be happy to help you with your research for your next story. Check your email for details.”

I opened my mail browser and found an email from Jim. An airline ticket to the Bahamas was attached.