Summer Series Ch. 01(Current Rating 54/100, based on 18 votes)
Author's Notes:
All characters in sexual situations are at least eighteen years of age
I sat back and wondered why I loved summer so much, as I gazed from my
banana chair perched on top of the first dune back from the water. From
there, I could see miles of white sand covered by just a couple of feet
of water in most places, with a few deeper holes, ideal for a dip.
Although this view is what I consider the most beautiful in the world, I
closed my eyes and had a huge range of visual and emotional memories come
flooding through my brain. I tried to remember my very first image of the
beach and summer.
I remembered when I must have been around four years old; playing in the
back yard of the house I grew up in, in the small country town where I
lived until I was ten. Summertime then meant an all-encompassing warmth,
the freedom to take your shirt off, playing down by the river, setting up
the kiddie pool and slippery dip in the back yard, staying up late,
parties with friends of the family, and some time in the big city with a
chance to go to the beach.
I enjoyed the pool in the back yard the most. How much more fun can you
get than that? The sun, the slippery dip, the splashing, and the wet
ground between your toes as you line up for another slide into the pool.
Little did I know that there would be greater pleasures in life, not as
simple or pure, but better just the same.
The river was a fantastic place too, swinging from the willow tree
branches that bent down into the water, riding around on inflated tractor
tubes, savouring hot chips that cost ten times less than they do now, and
imagining I could live in a shale cave behind the reeds that lined the
river. It was also a place to get away from the parents to read girlie
mags that some kid pinched from their dad, smoke cigarettes (no health
warnings in those days), and check out the older, more developed girls.
Those girls occasionally did a bit of flashing, and our group took turns
daring each other to kiss the girls that were our own age.
When the family travelled eight hours to the city once a year to visit
our relatives, we would also visit the beach. The size of everything in
the city was such a contrast to our small country town, so were the big
bare breasts in abundance during summer at the pine tree lined beach.
So, from early on, I loved summer. There was just something special
about the freedom and adventure that wasn't there in winter, and that
internal glow that you only get from sunshine. Above all, I remember the
way females seemed to have extra hormones and a need to kiss, flash, and
bare more skin. No wonder there is more breeding in the natural world in
the warmer months.
When I was ten, I moved from our small country town to the place where I
still live today - a coastal area with an abundance of lakes and
beaches - about two hours from the city. This meant many summers of
surfing, snorkelling, skiing, sunshine, boobs and g-strings. All of that
added up to many summers of feeling fit, healthy - and horny.
Once I turned eighteen, and gained some independence, my favourite
pastime was making my way through the bushes near the beach via the not
too well worn tracks, where the sunlight only came through in very narrow
beams. From there, I could see the dunes that rolled up and down the
beach - just above the flat section that stretched right down to the
water - and the women who lay in the hollows of these dunes.
Once in position, I would just wait for movement in my own secret, shaded
world that was such a contrast to the sunlit beach and the noise from the
waves and people. I could see all the women - some alone, some in groups
of two or more. They couldn't see much of each other, but I could see
all of them.
When they first got to the beach, I imagined - as I looked at all those
lovely women - the thoughts going through their minds. I could imagine
them trying to pick out the right spot where no one could see them, but
they could have the freedom to expose themselves. I also thought, if they
really didn't want any one to see them, they simply would not
expose themselves at all. Therefore, there was something about exposing
themselves that appealed to them. They could have claimed they didn't
want tan lines, but unless they were having someone look at their tits
enough to care, why bother? In my mind, they were horny girls who liked
having their tits out - with the chance of someone seeing them.
The moments surrounding when they first exposed their breasts were the
most exciting for them, I imagine. If they had heard, "what are you
doing", "hi there", or "nice tits" at that precise moment, they would
surely have had heart failure. I expected that they would secretly like
to be fully exposed and appreciated in every way, but would be too
timid to pursue such a fantasy.
This was as daring as those women would get, and although almost all of
them were great to look at, it was that boldness and the pushing it to
their limit that turned me on. It also compelled me to expose myself,
hence my board shorts pushed down my thighs with my dick out, as I knelt
in the cool sand. Although there was a chance that someone could still
see me from the dunes, there wasn't that much of a chance. From
behind, though, anyone from the houses could have easily seen me if they
had ventured too close.
I often wondered if any woman in the surrounding houses might have
spotted me one day and had a little play herself, watching me caress
myself to a fully aroused state. I never looked behind, so I never would
have known. I only looked at the valleys of the dunes in front of me,
laden with brown shiny flesh.
I watched as they turned from one position to another, their breasts
swaying in slow motion, like a wave ebbing out to sea. I drank in the
sight of their butts and hips, with ascetic curves like the dunes, and
the sheen on their sweaty, lotion covered bodies, like the ocean at
sunset.
I would work myself up as much as I could, and prolong it as much as
possible - sometimes it must have been hours. I watched pair of breasts
after pair of breasts, hot arse after hot arse and gorgeous woman after
gorgeous woman. I would be stimulated to such a point - with every vein
in my body bulging - that it would only take one of these intriguing
women to brush sand from her breasts before I would release a strangled
cum free into the air.
The most exciting one of those occasions was when I ventured to the
southern end of the beach one day. I had noticed a couple of women going
down there around some rocks about a week previous, and then not
appearing at the other side. I didn't think much of it at the time, but
on this day I saw one of the most gorgeous women I have ever seen - with
curves to die for - and she also disappeared behind the rock. What was
going on? I wondered.
I decided to venture over some rocks, around the secluded bay and behind
the rocks where she disappeared for a closer look. I couldn't see a thing
to indicate where she could have disappeared - no cave, and no path other
than the well-worn one around to the next beach.
Then I noticed slight signs of wear heading straight up the large rock
pillar.
Could she be up there? She had to be. I perused the landscape and
realised there was a ledge, above the platform on top of the pillar. I
walked up the beach to see if I could figure out how to get to that
ledge. When I looked back on the scene from further down the beach, I
could see that houses lined the top of the cliff.
The only access to that ledge was another five-minute walk further up the
beach, and then along the backyards up to the top of the cliff. My heart
was already beating fast with nervous adrenalin. Would something ruin my
plan of making it to the top of that cliff? Would I be embarrassed
walking through someone's back yard?
I couldn't let anything get in the way, there are just some things you
must do in life. I reasoned that if any one stopped me, I would
tell them I lived just a few of houses up and didn't think anyone would
mind me cutting through their back yards. I thought, Woo hoo, lets
go!. The adrenalin was making me feel so alive.
Cutting through the back yards was easy, not even close to a problem.
What I forgot to think about was how I could stand in someone's back yard
looking over a ledge. Each step that I took made my fear of failure
subside. I could see that there were hedges between the house I was
headed towards and the cliff. Luck was on my side - as it often was when
I had steely determination.
There I was in my own little sanctuary with a surrounding of hedges,
vine-covered lattice, flowers beds, and concrete seats situated in an
arc, as if waiting for an audience to watch the sea. The spot was shaded
and hidden from the outside world, and when I sat on a seat, the concrete
was nice and cool. I just hoped the owners wouldn't see me and call the
police.
From where I sat, the view was magnificent - miles of deep dark blue
water, capped by white where the waves broke on the beach and around the
sandstone all along the coastline. Below me was an even more spectacular
sight, a goddess laying east to west, waiting to be adored.
She was facing the water, which meant I could admire her with no chance
of her looking my way. What a sight she was, with her long, smooth, brown
legs that ended in a black g-string stretched around her glorious curves.
Her stomach was flat with no tone, and her sides pulled in to a narrow
waist, which accentuated her hips and her breasts even more. Her breasts
almost looked too full, covering almost every inch of her chest and
spilling over her sides and collarbones. I could tell by the way her wide
tits moved that they must have been heavy. To add even more to the
illusion, her nipples and the almost non-existent halos were the smallest
I had seen.
Not only was her body the best I had ever seen naked, the sight further
accented by a shiny anklet and leather wristbands, but she was also
beautiful. Her long wavy hair was as black as a raven, which just seemed
to fit so well with her coffee skin and g-string.
Then I realized, Wait a second, I know this woman.
When I was at school, she used to flirt with me and I used to flirt right
back.
Fuck, I was hard. My instincts told me to go down there, say nothing and
just fuck her until I couldn't fuck any more.
I needed to calm myself. What a waste if she rejected me, when I had this
sight to enjoy. I needed to get my cock out, right then and there. I
threw caution to the wind and took my pants completely off.
Fuck, I was alive.
I can't remember blinking as I stared at her; I didn't want to miss a
millisecond. I slowly massaged my balls and shook my cock all about. With
every slight movement of this gorgeous woman, I wanted to roll my eyes
back and cum - but I didn't want it to be over.
I didn't need any stimulation to be as hard as a rock and close to
cumming. I was actually fighting not to cum, so I could savour the
moment.
Then she rolled over, and halfway through her motion I hit the ground. My
cock was pressed hard into the grass, my heart pulsing so hard I could
almost hear the blood being pumped around my body. My breathing was
extremely heavy, moving the grass in front of my mouth.
I wondered if she had seen me, and whether I should have just stay there,
as it would be better to just be spotted than to be seen diving away.
After a few breathless moments, I slowly inched forward through the
grass, until I could see her.
The coast was clear, she was on her front but she wasn't looking my way.
She was reading - and what an advertisement for literature it was with
her perfect orbs behind the open book. I had a clear view of her taut
face in the new position, her full lips turned up into a slight smile as
those Cleopatra eyes gazed upon the pages of her book.
I must have looked crazy, with my arse and balls bared to anyone that
might walk behind me, and slowly humping the ground watching her. It was
almost painful not to sit up and stroke my cock until I came. I couldn't,
though, because she might see me, and then it would be all over.
She lay there on her stomach reading, her breasts knocking into each
other as she turned each page. She had her legs spread open, with the
inside of her thighs forming an inviting arrow formation ending at her
pussy. Her arse was as round as her breasts, and accentuated by the
over-exaggerated dip in her lower back. She wasn't really toned anywhere
except for the two vertical muscles in her lower back and the foot long
section behind her knees, but I couldn't imagine any woman better.
Then a strange thing happened. As I was humping up and down, she started
doing the same thing in unison. Was it some sort of mental telepathy?
Had I been focusing in on her so strongly that she had picked up my
thoughts? Had she picked up my pheromones wafting through the air? The
most logical answer was that she was reacting to the book she was
reading. What I would have given to read what was turning her on.
I could imagine coming home from work, catching her dry humping, pulling
her g-string aside, and sliding my cock in to ride her movements while
she continued to read. I could also imagine her turning and smiling,
happy I had caught her in that horny mood. I love a woman who is
confident with her own sexuality.
I noticed her brushing her boobs, and thought at first she must have had
sand on them, but after the third time and very erect pair of nipples, I
knew that wasn't the case. She then lay the book over and slid both arms
down to her waist, slipping her thumbs under the g-strings' waistband.
Her breasts were squashed forward as she wriggled out of the restraints
of those little black straps of material.
Once again, I had to duck for cover as she rolled over. When I looked
again, she was squatting and looking tentatively in all directions. Then,
apparently satisfied, she slowly stood upright. She took one last look
left and right before she cupped her breast with her left hand, while her
right hand went to work on her pussy, causing her knees to give way
slightly.
Author: Lascivious |
