A Tale For A Summer's Evening

We had corresponded from time to time, seldom met but now found ourselves undressing - not uncomfortable in each others presence - and laying our wet swimwear on the bare wooden floorboards of this beach hut. It was the height of summer and the day visitors had long disappeared into the pubs of the town or driven sleepy children home to their beds; a few locals strolled in the evening light that lazily illuminated us through cracks in the wood and an old tattered net curtain drawn across the window to preserve the modesty of those who were changing.

No such modesty restrained us as I spread an old blanket over the rough boards and we sat down, facing each other, our faces wavering between excited grins and lip biting seriousness, We did not touch except for where our ankles crossed at one point. Instead, our hands started to caress our own bodies. I ran fingers along my arm to my shoulder and then down across my chest; you cradles a breast in your hand and then our eyes met.

We held each other's eyes in a level gaze as our fingers explored further, running freely over our bodies but inevitably settling between our legs where hardening cock and wetted cunt awaited our attentions.

I could hear your wetness and smell your arousal but my eyes were always on your face, closely observing your growing arousal. From time to time we would smile or grin like impassioned fools and, at others, we would withdraw into ourselves and the growing sensations that made our legs shake and breathing heavy.

Just once did I glance down. Your fingers were hooked and curled deep into your cunt, noisily pleasuring yourself as you gasped and trembled and approached your release. I lay back a little, supporting myself on my left arm as my right hand wanked my cock harder and faster until I cried out and, my eyes still fixed on yours, I came gloriously in union and in unison with you and we both fell back to eak out our pleasures, feeling our skin on the rough boards beyond the blanket and laughing and being caught up in the sheer joy of it all.

We cleaned ourselves with damp beach-towels and quietly climbed into our dry clothes. I turned my key in the rusty lock and we crossed the beach, leaving two sets of footprints in the cool evening sand and walked, hand in hand, to our cars and our separate lives.