Private Beach (2 page)

She was ready to try something new. The
boredom of her life in Chicago and her stultifying job was killing
her. Worse, she was hardly getting any action. At least while she
was at college in Florida, away from her family and schoolfriends,
she had the chance to experiment. Back where people knew her, she
was limited to the odd one-night stand with the dull lawyer types
that her friends lined up for her, all with such disappointingly
vanilla tastes that even an ass-fuck felt like a novelty. Shame she
had to be the one who suggested it. The guy seemed to enjoy it, but
didn't follow through with a second date. Guess she just wasn't
marriage material.

More than anything, she appreciated this
sophisticated European take on nudity. There were people on the
beach who were definitely there for some action, but mostly people
were sunbathing, swimming, reading, playing beach games. It felt
wrong, yet somehow so right.

Careful not to catch anyone's eye yet, she
walked purposefully along, her toes in the surf, until she felt one
particular pair of eyes boring into her.

She looked to the right, towards the dunes.
Her heart leapt. It was Marc. Perhaps a little older than his
photograph suggested, but even hotter than she had imagined. So he
did exist!

He looked straight at her, and then straight
through her. She was annoyed. She knew he recognised her from her
photograph, so why was he playing games?

He had his back turned to her now, as he
scanned the horizon some ten yards away. She came to a halt, taking
in his body. He was taller than she expected, maybe five ten or
five eleven. There was not a spare ounce of fat on his ripped
muscles, which were taut but not bulky. His thick black hair rested
on his shoulders and, maddeningly, he refused to look in her
direction.

What was she supposed to do? Piqued, she
thought of returning to the apartment, but then she saw him
disappear into the dunes and she realised she was supposed to
follow him.

She stepped lightly up the sandy path and
disappeared into a clearing. But before she had a chance to take in
her surroundings, she felt hot breath on her ear and a silky
blindfold was slipped over her eyes.

Megan almost yelled, but something in Marc's
voice, the way he said her name, calmed her. She felt vulnerable,
standing there naked, without being able to see what was going on
around her, but she could feel him and smell him close to her.

She felt a hand run down her front, grazing
her nipples, which were hardening again. It was a warm, dry hand,
and when it cupped her breast and gently squeezed, she could feel
herself becoming wet again.

The hand took hers and gently guided her
into a sitting position. The sand was soft and warm.

Lips touched hers briefly and retreated,
teasing.

Her full lips were open now, searching for
the soft mouth that had just kissed hers.

A man's voice whispered her name. An
American voice, with a hint of a French accent.

"So glad you like the apartment, Megan. You
made the right choice. And now you are here, let the games
begin."

"What games?"

"Ssshhh."

The man's face was close to hers now, and
she could feel the warm breath on her face. She was longing to tear
off the blindfold and gaze into his eyes, but not being able to see
what he was doing made it somehow more exciting.

And then his mouth was on hers, his hot
tongue inside her mouth, plunging so deep that she felt she could
swallow him whole.

He had his head in her hands and he held her
tenderly, leaning her back against the dunes as his tongue
continued to probe hers.

She felt her body arch with desire and in
response, he ran his hand down her front again, skimming her mound
and resting his hand on her thigh.

She pushed herself against his hand,
desperate for the pressure of his touch on her engorged bud.

But he took his hand away, teasing her.

"Patience," he murmured.

He ran his tongue down her chin and the line
of her throat to her swollen breasts.

He flicked her nipple with his tongue,
drawing a gasp from her, before sucking it so hard and rhythmically
that waves of desire rocked her whole body.

Again, his hand brushed against her pelvis
and drew away again, testing the urgency of her desire.

His fingers crept slowly down her belly and
skilfully parted her slick lips, gently rubbing around the outside
of her moist opening. She arched her back, forcing her wet sex
against his hand, desperate for the pressure that would give her
some relief.

She felt his mouth against her belly, his
teeth nipping gently at her taut skin.

Slowly, unbearably slowly, he traced a line
with his tongue down as far as her nub and began to work away at it
rhythmically with his tongue, while his hand cupped her breast.

Each stroke drew her closer to climax, and
she surrendered herself to the waves of pleasure, waiting for the
final surge that would take her over the edge. But he was far too
skilled for that and each time she got close, he paused, until she
was begging him for the relief that only he could offer.

She was so deep in the throes of her own
pleasure that she hardly noticed someone else kissing her and
whispering her name.

She was surprised, but not freaked out. It
seemed natural somehow that someone else would want to share this
amazing experience.

She registered how soft the lips felt and
how feminine the voice sounded, and she realised that the mouth on
hers and the hand gently rubbing her breast belonged to a woman.
She opened her mouth to say something but the woman silenced her
with a kiss that tasted of male sex.

The other mouth was still sending waves of
desire through her cleft and what she had to say suddenly didn't
feel important any more. The man sank two fingers deep into her
core, and she shuddered with pleasure. She could feel his breath
coming hot and fast against her thighs now, and she kissed the
woman back so violently that she felt she had drawn blood from her
lip.

She felt the man withdraw his hand and
interrupt the woman's kiss to let her suck his fingers.

Then she felt the pressure of him rolling on
to her, holding her arms above her head and pinning her wrists.

"It's OK, I'm not going anywhere," she
gasped.

She wanted to reach for his cock and force
it into her to fill the gaping hole in the middle of her, but he
held her arms out of the way, making her wait.

"Please..."

He let go of one wrist and she reached for
him, stroking its firm length and drawing a gasp from him.

Then he forced her wrist back behind her
head and he entered her suddenly, sending a hot wave right through
her core as her muscles pulled him in and rhythmically tightened
around his shaft.

He moved slowly inside her and she surfed
the waves of pleasure, straining and rubbing against him as he rode
her to climax.

"Yes! Yes!"

Her cries were muffled as he brought his
lips down firmly on hers, and she tasted her own juices, feverishly
sinking her tongue deep into his mouth.

She lay there spreadeagled in the sand,
panting and spent, as he eased himself off her.

"Marc," she breathed.

A hand gently removed the blindfold from her
face and she blinked, her eyes watering in the bright sunlight.

Confused, she looked around.

Marc was there, but he was leaning against a
sand dune a few feet away, nursing an enormous erection in his
hands.

The man she had been fucking was one of the
Scandinavian volleyball players. The woman was nowhere to be seen.
Around them, hidden in the dunes, she could hear moans of desire as
the same scene was repeated over and over.

She sat up, outraged.

"What a mean fucking trick," she said
bitterly.

"Why so angry?" Marc's voice was cool. "You
enjoyed yourself. And I enjoyed watching you and Anders, not to
mention Jenna. Quite a show you put on. You told me you were an
open-minded kinda girl."

She scrambled to her feet, grabbing her
dress where she had dropped it. Tears pricked the back of her eyes.
Marc's gaze followed her as she brushed the sand off her butt and
stomped off towards the beach, leaving with as much dignity as she
could muster.

"See you later," he called after her.

She was furious and she didn't know why. It
was less than an hour ago that she had been fantasising about the
Norse gods, and Marc was right: she had enjoyed herself.

She was upset because... because Marc had
played her and, more importantly, she now wanted him more badly
than she had ever wanted a man before. The thought of him standing
there, caressing himself in that detached way while she orgasmed
was more than she could bear.

Her sex was raw and throbbing, and she felt
as though the eyes of the whole beach were upon her as she emerged
from the hot zone behind the dunes and began the walk of shame back
to the apartment.

Perhaps a swim would help. She dropped her
dress and plunged into the ocean, wincing as the cold salty water
swirled around her bruised cleft and then enjoying the coolness of
the surf on her skin.

What should she do now? She had nowhere to
go but Marc's apartment, but she wasn't sure what game he would
play next. Miserably, she swam freestyle for a while and then
floated on her back, letting the waves lap around her. She was out
of her depth in more ways than one.

But, try as she might, she could not rid
herself of the image of Marc standing there, lazily stroking the
length of his huge cock, his cat-like green eyes consuming her with
hunger.

As she replayed the image in her mind, her
body started responding to the stimulus and she realised the warm
salty water, pulled in and out by the waves, was lapping at her
core and she spread her legs wider, enjoying the sensation. Far
from being sated by her experience in the dunes, she wanted more.
She wanted Marc.

She swam back to the shore and picked up her
dress. Dripping wet, she walked along the shoreline, and then
became aware of someone following her. Marc. The sight of him -
even now, without his massive erection - turned her insides to
liquid.

"Don't be angry," he said, trying to cup her
chin in his hands before she batted his hand away furiously.

She stood there, trying to ignore the hot
tears that pricked the back of her eyes.

Droplet of sea water ran from her tousled
wet hair down on to her breast and hung delicately from her rosy
nipples, which were slowly hardening in his presence, before
falling to the ground.

"I'll pick up my things from the apartment
and you can take me back to the airport," she hissed, turning on
her heel.

"Fine, have it your way," he said
casually.

"Fine." She stomped off towards the
apartment, leaving him standing there.

Five minutes later, she was standing in the
corridor, shivering in her wet dress and turning the key in the
lock.

Megan walked into the apartment and froze.
Someone was there.

She glanced into the bedroom and there was
Marc, lying on the bed, still naked, and playing lazily with his
cock. Somehow she had to get past him to pick up her bag. Forget
asking him to take her to the airport. She'd hitch. Or something.
Anything to get away from this arrogant bastard before her resolve
crumbled.

She steeled herself and walked right past
the bed. He caught her by the hand and began tracing something on
the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. She tried to wrench
her hand free, but it was hopeless. She could feel herself
lubricating and getting wetter and wetter.

He sensed it too, and with one graceful
animal move, pulled her towards him and burying his face in her
soft mound through the sheer fabric of her dress. If it had been
damp before, the dress was dripping now where it was pressed
against her, and he pulled up her skirt, devouring her rosy sex
like a starving man, lapping up her juices and exploring his soft
folds with his tongue.

She moaned involuntarily, all thoughts of
escape now gone.

Hot waves of pleasure travelled outward from
her groin as he licked around her swollen bud, expertly flicking
his tongue to the places where it would melt her inside. She could
feel the creaminess dripping from her labia as he brought her
almost over the edge, lifting her on to the bed and spreading her
legs wide without once dropping his rhythm.

He buried two of his fingers deep in her
core and worked away with his tongue until she came in one great
shuddering climax.

She lay there for a moment, stunned into
silence by the best orgasm she had ever had. But now she wanted
more. She wanted him more urgently than she had wanted any man
before.

She slid down and ran her hand up and down
his hard shaft, teasing with her fingers. He groaned, closing his
eyes in pleasure. She licked gently around the tip, lapping up the
creamy droplet of pre-come. And then, suddenly, with no warning,
she engulfed him in her full lips, letting his engorged maleness
graze the rosy back of her throat, cupping his balls and working
him deeper and deeper into her mouth.