Apr 14, 2017

Sex on the Beach

I arrived at the cottage late on a September Saturday afternoon and dropped by the beach to watch the mayhem of sunbathers and kids catching one of the last warm summer weekends. As I sat near the road away from the shore I was distracted by a jogger running down the middle of the beach cutting back and forth in the soft thick sand avoiding towels, chairs and umbrellas as she went. I found it curious that she would run in the crowded, middle of the beach trudging in the sand rather than along the hard-packed shoreline. She continued to run alone off toward the lifeguard stand.

As I snapped some shots of kids playing with a beach ball, she appeared again in the viewfinder running back up the beach. I framed a shot perfectly; her blond hair blowing behind her in the hot sun, kids dancing with excitement in a splash of color with a floating beach ball like a rising sun in the top corner of the shot, and she was gone again.

As a head photographer for a major women's magazine, I had a week's worth of food and product photography that I could do at my cottage. I was in my last week of sick-leave recovering from surgery on my leg. The truth is that around home, I was fine and no longer used my crutches, but here in a crowded area or walking in the loose sand, they offered protection and garnered some sympathy. My plan was to do some nature photography, sun and sand shots and to go swimming twice a day to strengthen my leg before hitting the cement halls and malls next week.

I met some weekend friends for dinner and went to bed early so I could be back at the beach by 6:00 AM to do a day in the life of the beach photo series "Sunday" taking shots from the same position every 20 minutes all day long. My first shot was of a lonely tractor dragging the beach for litter and raking it smooth as she ran into the viewfinder again. This time she was jogging along the hard-packed shore heading west toward the lifeguard stand.

With my camera equipment already set, mounted on the hood of my jeep at the edge of the beach near the road, I had lots of time to kill before things would get busy. I walked across the road on my crutches to the coffee stand on the boardwalk along the river side of the point. As I was adding cream to my coffee, there she was again. This time she was running west back from the sand dunes point, toward the cottages along the river. I felt a strange stirring in my pants as I watched her pass silently except for the rhythmic sound of her running shoes and labored breathing. She was wearing a sweatshirt and cut off track pants running with her hair tied back in a ponytail that bobbed as she ran.

On Sunday afternoon, I was wading in the water's edge between shots when she appeared again running to the west as we exchanged surprised smiles. When she came running back east on her return trip she was running in the water's edge and splashed me a bit as she went by. I think it was intentional; after all I am a bit hard to miss walking on the beach with crutches.

By the time she returned along the boardwalk, I was there getting a cold drink at the booth and I chided her for splashing me as she ran by smiling. Again, I felt my member stirring awkwardly in my shorts as I noticed how her pace slowed while she was near me. I saw her look over her shoulder as she returned to her stride heading toward the cottages and I returned to the beach to continue my work.

Later at the cottage, I blew up the photograph of her running in the afternoon. She was very pretty, about 5 feet 5 inches tall wearing short shorts that showed off her muscular legs. For some reason the faint outline of a sports bra under her baggy t-shirt caught my interest.

Early Monday morning I drove my jeep across the sand and parked near the west end of the beach. I was busy taking some sun-up shots of the birds floating in the breeze above the surf, framed by the base of the lifeguard stand when she appeared. She called to me as she approached, "are you here taking pictures all the time, or just when I'm around." I shot back, "if your running this afternoon, I'll be taking pictures this afternoon!" She yelled, "4:30" as she rounded the guard stand and headed back up the beach.

I was at the coffee booth on the boardwalk as she was on her return trip and I called to her, "What's your name?" as she puffed, "Don't take my picture now, I'm all sweaty and tired and I look awful". . panting. . . "Chantal" as she ran off in a sweat stained baggy shirt.

Monday afternoon, I was standing in the water on a sand bar shooting toward the shore as she went by in a black sports bra top and short white shorts. She yelled "see you tomorrow" and changed her route as she ran toward the road disappearing from view, leaving me behind hobbling in the water with my camera gear.

Tuesday morning was very warm and she wore a bright yellow bikini bottom and a shortened white t-shirt, which accentuated her tan as she ran west along the beach. When she saw me she started running in the edge of water first giving me a long distance shot of a solo runner splashing in the surf against a light blue and rose colored sky. By the time she was on her return trip, I was at the water's edge and got two great shots of her running into the sun, wind in her hair with a transparent wet t-shirt clearly showing just how small her yellow string bikini was and how much it strained to hold her in as she ran.

For the first time I realized just how great her figure was watching her long legs, thin waist and bouncing chest as she splashed by me again.

By the time I hobbled back to the boardwalk she was already gone, so I had a coffee before I went for a long morning swim in the cold lake.

Tuesday afternoon, I stayed in the jeep and waved at her as she ran the beach, before driving to the west end of the boardwalk to wait for her in the parking lot at the end of her run. I had a cooler of fruit and we took a cool down walk in the shady along the grassy river bank, eating grapes and oranges as we talked.

"Chantal" was a divorced Grade 1 teacher who was training for the New York Marathon by running every day before and after school. In the mornings, she enjoyed the solitude of the run and on weekend afternoons she practiced her focus and agility by running down the sandy crowded middle of the beach. We joked about how little chance I had of catching her with my "broken" leg, not mentioning how healed it really was.

She asked me a lot of questions about my fashion and food photography and recognized some of the work I talked about from the magazine. She was very interested in the shots I had done of her, so I invited her to dinner Wednesday night after her run.

I watched her run up the boardwalk again Wednesday morning meeting her on the beach by the lifeguard stand. On the boardwalk, she had on a light nylon zippered jacket that came down past her hips. By the time she saw me on the beach, the jacket was undone and blowing behind her showing off her unprotected, small yellow bikini top and bottom. She was very, very sexy. I had to turn away from her to adjust myself so my interest in her wasn't so obvious as she came closer with her breasts heaving up and down as she ran. She laughed as she approached asking if I was uncomfortable as she turned around the guard stand and ran off yelling, "what time is dinner?"

Wednesday afternoon she wore an orange bikini bottom that flashed from below her white t-shirt. Once she saw me on the beach she started running and splashing in the water getting the shirt wet and making it clear that she was running without a bikini top.

She arrived for dinner driving a new red Honda 2000 sports car with white lettering across the top edge of the trunk, ‘Sit Down, Shut Up and Hang On' and her plate number was ‘I MIGHT'

Great, a sexy, athletic, educated girl with attitude. When she got out of the car, I was even more interested; she wore a white tube top with a diaphanous red wrap skirt over a white thong, which clearly accentuated her tight tanned buns. Her blond hair was done in ringlets with thin curled ribbons hanging down to the top of her chest over the front of her bare shoulders.

Dinner was one continuous erection for me as we chatted about teaching, food, running and photography. After a peppered shrimp salad appetizer, while I was putting the finishing touches to the barbequed, glazed trout; Chantal spent time looking at some of my magazine shots from this week, seductively twirling her blond curls with her finger while looking out of the corner of her eye to see if I was watching her.

By the time we were finished the main course and some wine, her tube top had worked down and inch or so lower than before dinner, displaying two small white triangles of bare skin contrasted by her bronze tanned chest. You could see just the dark pink edge of her areolas showing above her top. She was driving me wild and she knew it as she bent forward displaying her ample cleavage whenever possible.

She was an unbelievable tease and the game was on.

Since I was on crutches, I asked her to stand on a chair to reach down the chocolate fondue pot displayed on the top of the kitchen cupboards. I took her hand to balance her as she stepped up on the chair turning around brushing her hips against my face as she continued to climb, stepping on the counter top to facilitate an easier reach standing with her legs spread above me. I was mesmerized by the view of the damp almost transparent narrow thong. She caught me staring and asked, "Are you trying to see if I am a natural blond?" In stead of climbing down she squatted down providing a closer view with me standing on my crutches between her wide spread knees and leaned forward again to hand me the fondue pot, drawing her breasts even further out of her top. Then she reached forward and kissed me before jumping down causing her boobs to bounce completely out of her top for just a second.

All during the chocolate fondue dessert she asked more and more questions about doing photo shoots of fashion models, glamour shots, lingerie shots and nude photography asking to see several more examples of my work. Clearly, she wanted me to photograph her so I asked her to model for me, a silhouette in the moonlight standing on the dock with lights from boats and cottages shimmering across the water. As I worked she asked me if I would do a sunrise photo session with her on the beach Thursday morning before she went running. I finished the dockside silhouettes of her and eagerly agreed to the sunrise shots, when she responded, "then I better leave so I can get up early enough to look good in the morning!"

She planted another big, warm kiss on me this time, noticeably rubbing her chest against me as she turned and skipped off to her car, waving good night, laughing as she suggested that I should "handle' things for myself tonight. Remembering the movie, There is Something About Mary, I had taken things in-hand before Chantal arrived and I did again as soon as she left, then I went to bed alone and laid there planning.

I picked her up at 5:30 AM in my jeep and we drove along the dunes, to the far east end of the beach where the river empties into the lake. There is a small, secluded bay there with a rocky point on the lake side and a sand bar on the river side with a pool of shallow warm water when the tide is out or the lake is calm. There are no motorboats allowed on the river until 9:00 AM and the water here is usually too warm for the fishermen.

Chantal wore a thin blue wrap skirt this time, with a string bikini bottom that was even smaller than her thong and a tube top under a ‘Playboy Bunny' t-shirt. Her hair was still done in ringlet curls and her make-up perfect as we drove in the dawn in the jeep. After helping me to carry the camera bag out to the point she suggestively removed the t-shirt. She had folded the tube top in half, like the neck of a turtle neck sweater creating a tight narrow band that made her breasts poached egg shaped, flattened by tight top and bulging out the top and bottom. What a vision, great cleavage, blond hair sparkling with splashes of water in the cool breeze and early morning sunshine.

We started on the lakeside of the bay with her kneeling on the fine gravel beach, back to the water basking with the sun casting a long shadow down the beach beside her. I spritzed her hair a bit to get more sparkles from the sun and accidentally wet her chest at the same time. The cool breeze and dampness caused her nipples to poke out even more through the double-layered top, casting their own distinct shadow for the camera lens.

By the third shot she had backed up a bit just into the water’s edge, knees spread apart, leaning a bit forward resting her hands above her knees, bum on her heals, with the splash of the smaller waves wetting her feet. I was watching the water carefully. About every 20th wave was bigger than the rest, a few even had small white caps as the morning breeze started to pick up off the lake and as the tide started to come in. I saw the waves coming. There were three with rolling white crests as they passed each sandbar on the way to the beach. I asked her to slip a bit further back just in time and had a new roll of film ready. The first big wave splashed half way up her back causing her to arch back sitting up straight and screaming as the chilly water bubbled between her legs trying to get to the shore. When the second wave hit, she lost her balance, falling forward into the water and course sand. The power winder kept clicking as she sat back up with her top now soaking wet. She immediately ripped the wet top off and threw it at me as a penalty for my laughter, just as the third big wave hit her.

The chilly water drove her forward again this time leaving her wet breasts covered with two patches of sticking sand and gravel accentuating her natural roundness and firmness for the camera. She sat up gasping for air, her arched back rigid from the cold water and her full breasts sticking out free and glistening wet reflecting the sun.

As she was getting up to move, I got a great shot of Chantal on her hands and knees, hair still blowing in the breeze, looking up at me with her mouth open wide taking in a deep breath of shock as, yet another big wave came splashing in breaking over her legs and swirling cold water around her hanging breasts washing off the sticky sand.

I grabbed her top and stuck it in my camera bag laughing at her as she threw small stones at me, chasing me hobbling to the bay side of the point. As she was chasing me over the narrow point, she suddenly stopped and seductively removed her bikini bottom complaining that it was full of small stones and sand. It also found its way into a side pouch of my camera bag when she wasn't looking.

We did some glamour shots of her basking on the beach facing the sun, leaning back on her hands, legs straight out in front with her heels in the edge of the calm reflective water. The tips of her blond hair were now wet and hanging down to the sand behind her with her fingertip-sized nipples standing erect pointing at the sun. We did some shots of her of her standing, back to the sun, arms behind her head, chest out with her clinging blue wrap hiding nothing, smiling at the camera and then running on the beach breasts bouncing as she splashed and teased me even more.

While I was reloading film, she stood just out of reach with one hand under the wrap skirt and the other massaging her breast, smiling at me calling, "what do you want to do now?" Almost before I finished answering, "I want you!" She shot back, "catch me if you can!" and started to backup into the water as I dropped the un-necessary crutches and gave a slow chase sending her toward the deeper water, my erection obvious, tenting out the front of my bathing suit.

Not realizing that I was originally a lifeguard and had been on both my high school and college swim teams, I smiled as she started to swim in the deeper water calling to me and laughing. I never mentioned swimming twice a day to exercise my healing leg.

I dove into the river swimming toward her directing her toward the point between the bay and the lake. As I swam close enough to pull off her flimsy wrap and grab her, we kissed sinking below the surface. We sputtered to the surface with her splashing and laughing trying to paddle back away from me, kicking her feet to the surface in my direction just as I touched the bottom near the sand bar. I was between her legs as I caught her and she wrapped her legs around me squeezing my chest. I reached around each leg and gently massaged her erect, hard clitoris, suddenly changing her expression from laughter to lust as she lay back in front of me floating in the chest deep water. She quickly changed from paddling away to hugging tightly, pressing her breasts hard against my chest as she slipped her tongue past my lips and I supported her riding piggyback on my front, slipping two of my fingers into her warm inner recesses, exciting her tongue even more.

As I struggled a bit to carry her toward the sandbar through the shallow waves, my now wet trunks were almost off pulled down by her legs still wrapped around me. She fell into the waist deep water reaching up to pull off my trunks, exposing my manhood to her, magnified by the angle of her view through the shallow water. As I sat on the sandy bottom in the warm water facing away from the beach, she sat on my lap facing me with the shallow waves at her back. Chantal was reaching between us to fondle me as we kissed again. In mere seconds, I couldn't wait any longer as I lifted her toward me and set her upon my shaft entering her easily and causing her to sigh loudly. I developed a slow rhythm with the waves as she leaned back holding my shoulders and I played with her jello-like sensitive breasts, causing her to lose control and start breathing even harder, eyes tightly closed, head back and her mouth open wide either kissing me passionately or panting for breath.

I soon erupted, causing her to lunge forward hugging me tightly as she peaked screaming so loud you could hear the echo from the shore and leaving my left ear, still full of water, ringing. I kept pumping slowly with my half hard member sustaining her high as she gradually loosened her grip and rested her head on my shoulder. We relaxed rocking silently and gently in the small waves, me still inside of her and her eyes still tightly closed still hugging me silently. We just sat for some time as the water lapping at our sides caused her breasts to giggle and rub against me getting me hard again causing her to start to moan as I pulsed noticeably harder and harder inside of her.

She started rocking more as I sat beneath her, laughing and teasing, as we both grew more and more excited again. As I started to respond by pumping into her more quickly and harder she jumped off, diving beneath the water and enveloping me completely in her warm mouth. The sudden coolness of the river water as I withdrew from her followed by the warmth of her mouth and swirling tongue drove me over the edge immediately. She finished me off stimulating every nerve ending with her tongue and fondling my testicles with one hand as she held onto me with the other. She was down there a long time before sputtering to the surface for air, dribbling my seed from the side of her smile as she did so, her wet blond hair trailing down her back and water streaming down her face. We sat for a long time cuddling with the water just below her breasts until we noticed two fishermen approaching slowly in a canoe.

We ran to the jeep where I put on my wet bathing suit and she tried to retie her wrap while half-heartedly looking for her bikini. Unfortunately, I had "lost" both her tube top and bikini bottom, so she had to settle for a cold wet t-shit or nothing. Always a tease, Chantal threw the wet wrap at me as she opted to wear nothing bouncing along the dunes in the jeep as we headed back to my cottage for a shower and breakfast, leaving the crutches laying on the beach.

Just think, four days together until I have to go back to the city.

Copyright: (c) 2002 by EroticAuthor ( Redistribution is permitted, if it is done on non-commercial basis and this header is preserved.