Beach Love
I love to be surfing, but especially on the days my lover comes to watch me. We leave together in the morning and ride our bikes to the beach. Finding our place on the sand I watch her prepare to lie out. First she spreads out her beach towel, squinting up at the sun to find the perfect angle, and then slowly she removes her shirt revealing her bikini top, the shorts slip off, and with one finger she flicks the bottom of her bathing suit to match her already started tan line. When she is settled I head into the ocean.
She knows my habits; how long I can stay in the ocean, whether I'm feeling good or missing all the waves. She can accurately predict when I'll be coming back to shore.
As soon as I get back, she's gone. Riding alone to the house, the first thing I see is her bike tossed in the driveway. The door is slightly open, beckoning, and I let myself in. I walk over to where I keep my surfboard and, in its place, I see her sandals. I follow the path her feet have taken and start up the stairs. On the landing I see her shorts; at the top of the stairway is her shirt. As I turn the hallway to head toward my bedroom, her bikini top is slung in my path. I can hear rustling coming from the bedroom door-as I reach it, I see the rest of her swimsuit. I gently push the door open and she's lying on the bed waiting for me. I stop and look over her naked body. I tremble with excitement while she moves as a lioness awakening, rubbing herself and purring. I enter the bedroom noticing how pronounced her tan lines are now, how they curve around her breasts and form a line marking her sex. She is beautiful.
She looks up at me as I slide out of my clothing. I come onto the bed to grab her and she is gone. Still oily, she has slipped out of my hands. She curves around me and I can feel her body still hot from the sun. She slides herself over me and her coconut smell wraps around me like sea tentacles. She whispers softly in my ear; her voice in waves. Slowly, carefully, she begins to lick the salty water off me, beginning with the back of my neck, then moving around my ears. Her tongue sends rumbles of pleasure through my spine. I turn around and take her in my arms, holding her tight so she no longer squirms. She flaps and tries to escape, but she is in my net. I toss her beneath me; she surrenders to the ride and wraps her arms round me for dear life. I am her preserver. She floats to the top, and I begin with her mouth. Her tongue flicks in and out like a serpent. I trace the lines she has created. Following them with my fingers and tongue, I make the distinction between brown and white. She giggles from my teasing.
Her sun oil smell turns musky as I trace where her bikini was. I enter her shell with my mouth. Her insides are warm, her precious pearl hardening. Once again she is my fish; I have hooked her with my tongue as she bucks and undulate, trying to escape. I hold her tight, continuing my feast. She clenches around me. I love watching her throw back her head, eyes closed, back arched, her legs shaking-she grabs my hair, but I won't stop until I feel her release, relax and lie back. "What a good surfer you are," she coos, telling me how well I ride the waves. She pulls me to her and I kiss her nipples, little pieces of coral that tighten and shiver under my tongue. She draws me closer, whispering again. She tells me she loves to see me ride, that she wants to learn to surf like me. Slowly I enter her and she is the water, washing over me in ecstasy. She moans under me, pulling me closer still. She is warm and wet, pliable like the ocean. She is my perfect wave; we rise and fall with each crest and dip. I am in and out of her quicker now, a shark feeding. I feel her trembling and exploding. I join her. We lay there shaking, holding tight to one another.
We roll onto the floor and talk about love. She settles into my arms and I can feel her body relax and the rhythmic stirring of her breathing. I push her hair back so I can watch her nap until I nod off, joining her in my dreams. ©Bunnies of London Escorts Agency.
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