Seashells

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What do you do when temptation comes your way? Hopefully, you’ll do the right thing. That of course leads to the next question. What is the right thing? That which is right for you or that which is right for someone else? It’s not often that right applies to both. I had a temptation recently. I’m not sure if I did the right thing, but I did do my best.

It was a nice hot day, near the end of spring, and I was just lounging around at one of the local beaches, bored and not really knowing what to do with myself. For some reason the beach was almost deserted, so I couldn’t even chat up any little ladies.

There I was, leaning against a tree, when this young woman came past, walking daintily along the water’s edge. Now if she’d been your typical beach-goer, tanned and bikini clad, I’d have been down there like a shot to say hullo, but she wasn’t.

She looked to be in her early twenties and she was very stylishly dressed. She had a blouse and a skirt swinging just above her knees, a wide leather belt accentuating the outfit. My guess, from the look of her legs, and very nice legs they were, was that she was also wearing pantyhose. Stylish, but sensible, shoes completed the ensemble.

She was, to say the least, out of place. I sauntered down to see what was going on. We must have looked quite a contrast, me being stylishly dressed in ragged shorts and equally ragged t-shirt, with thongs completing my own chic ensemble. (Thongs are a type of shoe. Get your mind out of the gutter.)

“Afternoon,” I said, smiling. “Um, no disrespect, but you look a little out of place. No problem, is there?”

“There is a problem,” she said smiling, “but it’s being addressed. We ran over some glass and we have two flat tyres. My husband is up with the car waiting for a service crew to come and assist us. I told him I was going to stroll along the beach and see if I could find some nice seashells. I’ve been wanting some to put in our garden.”

“Bad luck about the tyres,” I said. “However, you’re not going to find much in the way of seashells along the water’s edge. Anything easy to get has been picked clean or washed back out to sea.”

I paused for a moment, plainly considering bostancı escort bayan the situation.

“If I remember correctly,” I said hesitantly, “there’s a sort of a cave a little further down, just past where those cliffs start.” I pointed to where the land rose sharply, about a hundred yards further along. “While I don’t collect shells myself, I noticed that there are quite a few in the cave. Apparently the tide sweeps them in and they wind up trapped. Would you care to see?”

We were by no means alone on the beach, and it wasn’t as though I was asking her to sneak away into the bushes. People were actually walking past the mouth of the cave even as I gestured towards it.

When I said it was a sort of cave, it had probably been a proper cave sometime in the past and quite a large one, too. However, the front of the cliff had fallen, resulting in a large dent in the cliff with a ridge along the front of it. High tide would wash shells in and they would wind up trapped against the ridge when the tide eased. Shell collectors often visited there.

I strolled along to the cave with her, and leaned against the side of the wall while she fossicked along the edge. She found a couple of nice shells, but the area along the little ridge had been picked fairly clean.

“There’s a largish rock at the back of the cave,” I said, looking askance at her meagre collection. “You might have better luck there.”

I strolled deeper into the depression, turning a corner at the end of it. The cave continued there for a few more yards before ending at a sheer wall. Denise trotted along behind me. (I’d found out her name while we were walking along the beach.)

Right at the end of the cave there was this largish rock that ran across the floor like a ledge. Denise scampered over to it and leaned over to look behind, giving an exclamation of satisfaction when she spotted the shells still there.

Then she gave an exclamation of surprise as I lifted up the back of her dress and tucked it into her belt. Maybe I should say she gave a startled exclamation, because she didn’t really sound that surprised.

“Don’t say anything,” I told her, my hands wandering ümraniye escort over her bottom in a familiar way.

She didn’t. She just lay bent over the rock, quivering slightly. I took her tights and started rolling them down. Nice thing about tights, roll them properly and they’re dead easy to take down and put back on. Her panties quickly followed the tights, and my hands once more started becoming familiar.

I gently massaged her bottom, drifting down to massage her mound, taking my time and getting acquainted. Denise didn’t say a word, although an occasional squeak or gasp escaped, especially when my fingers first slipped between her lips and probed internally.

The first serious sound she made was when my cock poked firmly against her pussy, coaxing her lips to part. She have an “ah,” sound with a serious intake of breath. This changed to a long drawn-out “ah,” as I slowly pushed my way into her.

I took my time entering her, not wanting to scare her off with undue roughness, and her passage slowly yielded to me. She was hot and tight and wet, getting wetter as I sank deeper. Slowly but surely, her passage yielded to my entry, closing around me as I came.

Towards the end her, “ah,” seemed to change to a surprised squeak as I kept on pushing in. Her squeak was actually beginning to sound a little frantic as I kept on coming. I have to admit that in some ways I am a little bit bigger than average, but I didn’t really think Denise would have a problem with that.

It turned out that she didn’t, apart from being a trifle surprised. Once in I stayed in place, just enjoying the feel of her and letting her get used to the feel of me.

Hands holding her hips firmly I pulled back a little and returned in a slow sensual movement. She gave an appreciative little sigh and I happily repeated the motion. After doing this a few times I stopped holding her hips still. I started pulling then towards me as I pushed in, helping her to establish the rhythm.

She caught on fast enough, and soon we were swaying gracefully together, a nice gentle motion that was bringing soft sighs of appreciation from her. That was all very well, but I didn’t want sighs escort kartal of appreciation.

Taking my time, I moved faster. It sounds funny when you put it like that. I was going faster, slowly? Whatever, our speed increased and the sighs trailed away. They were now being replaced by the sounds of passion as lust gave us both a kick-along.

Soon I was seriously driving into Denise, feeling her pushing back to meet me, both of us revelling in the feelings we were raising, both in ourselves and in each other. Denise managed to keep her cries reasonably muted, probably conscious of our proximity to the beach, but that didn’t stop her body from engaging with mine in feminine ferocity.

I took her hard, while stretching it out as long as possible. Far too enjoyable to let it finish too quickly. I could hear the excitement and lust in Denise’s voice and, from the sound of it, she wasn’t going to be able to go on for much longer. With real regret I drove in even harder, trying to push her over the edge.

Some push. She was so close to the edge a gentle breeze would have toppled her. My extra hard lunge just sent her flying high, one with the birds and uncaring about the world. She seemed to completely lose her voice, just giving a shuddering gasp as she climaxed, her whole body shaking while her passage clung to me and she did her best to drain every drop of fluid from me.

Geez, I felt like slumping down to the ground in a heap after that little effort. Denise just lay across the rock, gasping. I quietly disengaged and just as quietly departed. My last view of her was her bare bottom, lit up by a stray beam of sunshine that managed to make its way in that far.

I was back leaning against my tree when Denise came past. She was dressed as when I first saw her, not a hair out of place. How do women do that? I still felt like a worn-out rag and she was bouncing along quite nicely. She was also carrying about a dozen very nice sea-shells, presumably gather from the other side of the rock.

I nodded as she drew level with me.

“Afternoon,” I said agreeably. “I see you got what you were looking for.”

She looked at me and then looked down at the shells.

“Yes,” she said politely. “Thank you for your assistance.”

She went on her way. Smiling, I turned to head on home. An uncle of mine was supposed to be visiting this afternoon, showing off his new bride. My mother had made me promise to turn up and say hullo.

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