Two elements that weave together, pulling me inexorably toward thoughts of you—of us, tangled in desire. No matter the chatter of the beachgoers or the distant hum of life around me, the heat on my skin, the brilliant light, the salt-kissed water… they unravel any composure I try to hold. They turn my mind to sex. To you.
I thought of you this time, towering over me, your strong hands guiding my hips as I knelt before you on the warm sand. My own hands reached back, grasping the long heels of my shoes, clutching them desperately as your tongue explored me, as your cock invaded me deeply, relentlessly. My knuckles went white with tension, my long fingers gripping as tightly as they ever have. My mouth formed a perfect O of ecstasy, pressed against the rumpled towel beneath me, damp with sea spray and my own arousal, muffling my cries against the fabric’s give. I felt glistening diamonds of perspiration lining my spine, pooling in the hollow above my buttocks. The rich spices of my lust filled the air between us. And I heard your rapture—deep, guttural—as you claimed me.
I thought of myself bent naked over a high-backed chair in some shadowed room overlooking the waves, my wrists bound to the front legs, my ankles secured to the rear. I shivered as I felt the tail of your belt hang passively against my ass, trailing teasingly across the pouting lips of my sex. My body tautened in anticipation as I heard the soft whoosh of the leather cutting the air. My cries—part pain, part pleasure—echoed as the impromptu whip smacked against my flesh. Once, twice, three times. The roseate stripes bloomed across my milky skin, and my cool blue gaze thawed into a sea of tears. You kissed the salt from my face, gentle now, and then took my canting form with voracious strokes. You beheld my utter submission, and the gratitude that flooded me in its wake.
I thought of us in the surf, the blood-warm water washing over us again and again. Our fevered kisses, salt-slick and hungry; our frenzied hands tearing at the flimsiness of our bathing suits until nothing separated us. We rolled naked in the waves, giving and taking in equal parts, oblivious to prying eyes or the world’s judgments. I took you inside me there, both of us too far gone to care about the salt and the sand grating against our skin—discomfort only binding us tighter. Your heat consumed me, a thousand times hotter than the sun overhead, and my orgasm crashed like the tide. I felt the breath leave me as I received your come, my teeth sinking into your shoulder, my nails raking down your back.
I thought of us in that anonymous hotel room, high above the city lights shimmering like distant stars, both of us masked, the curtains cast wide so the world below could watch us fuck with animal abandon if it dared to look up. You beneath me as I rode you, my slenderness rearing over your body, taking you deep, taking my time, savoring every inch. My elegant face contorted through a dozen shuddering orgasms, wave after wave. I milked you with my hand and my mouth afterward, my look of bliss pure as your seed rained upon my flesh. I rubbed your essence into my skin like precious balm, marking myself with you. And then we stole out into the night, merging with the libidinous world, my serenity—my deep satisfaction—stemming from knowing that anyone near could smell our fucking on me wherever I strode.
The sun and the sea. And thoughts of sex.
And you.
Should I have expected anything else? When the oceans occupy three-quarters of our world, and the sun holds almost all of our star system’s mass, and the promise of your wanton sensuality has clouded my judgment for so long?
