The Hammock

The cool ocean breeze drifts into the room, offering a brief respite from the sultry heat. He sits near the window, hard at work, attempting to concentrate on the stacks of books he has vowed to work through while here. He has chose this secluded oceanfront property not only for the quick access to the beach, but also for the calming sounds of the waves. Relaxation was imperative if he had any hopes of accomplishing the tasks ahead.

Stretching out muscles sore from staying in one position too long, he walks over to the window and pushes the curtains aside to welcome the breeze that is beginning to stir. It cools his naked body quickly and he is rewarded for the forethought to work sans his clothing. The sparkling water, the glistening sun, the birds swooping around the docks, entrance him, pull him away from the stress of the day. It is then that movement captures his attention and draws him down to the patio of the condo next door. He knew there were other people at this resort, but he did not come here to socialize.

He can hear the furniture on this patio being shuffled about, when suddenly from underneath the canopy, a stark white hammock is being pushed out onto the sand and under the shade of a nearby palm tree. Although the tree offers some shade, the breeze wafting through the fronds allows sufficient sun for some tanning. “Now that looks rather comfy”, he says, followed by a startled gasp as the intended occupant of the hammock is revealed. Tall and voluptuous with short dark hair and fair skin, she is wearing only a short silk robe and a pair of sunglasses. She positions the hammock just so, retreats back to the patio and returns shortly with a book, a cool drink and what appears to be a bottle of tanning oil. She settles herself into the hammock, which seems to swallow her up as she nestles down into it. The property is secluded and the patios offer no privacy, yet someone walking by on the beach would be able to see little but her head in that cocoon of canvas. As he stands in the shadows of his window, the beauty of the sea forgotten, his eyes transfixed on her every move, he wonders briefly if she can see him, but he is suddenly distracted by her next move.

She appears oblivious to her surroundings as she tugs open the sash of her robe, pulls it off her body and drops it to the ground beneath. She reaches for the drink, brings it to her lips and lets it slide down her throat, forcing drops of condensation to drip from the glass onto her creamy breasts. Setting the glass down, she casually runs her hand across the drops to rub them away, the sun evaporating them quickly. As she reaches for the bottle of tanning oil, her silent observer settles himself onto the wide window ledge, moving slowly so as not to attract her attention. His work is forgotten; his mind riveted to the potentiality for this secret rendezvous. It has been far too long since he has allowed himself to be distracted from his work; this seems like the perfect opportunity.

She holds the bottle of oil above her and slowly, almost languidly lets it drip over her body; first her legs, her belly, then her arms and finally her chest. It doesn’t seem to matter to her that some of it is dripping on to the canvas or even that there seems to be more oil than skin. Her objective seems to be to drown herself in oil and he is very curious about this. His thoughts are soon answered as she begins to rub the oil into her body; it becomes apparent that this application is not intended solely to protect her from the sun. Her hands began to deftly massage the oil into her skin, starting with her feet. Each toe, the arch, the heel; it seems as if every muscle in her foot is being attended to with loving hands and long sexy fingers. He yearns for this relaxing touch even as his body reacts in a more arousing manner.

She continues this massage with the other foot, each calf, each thigh and both of her arms, eventually reaching her shoulders and her neck, which she leans forward to rub and work out what must be the last of the stress in her body. By now, he is totally relaxed just watching her and dreamily reaches a hand to help her with her back, but quickly returns to reality and snatches the hand back to his lap. In doing so, he brushes against his cock, totally erect and completely in conflict with the rest of his flaccid muscles. That brief contact awakens his senses and all thoughts of relaxation have vanished; his mind is completely centered on his arousal as he slowly begins to stroke himself.

He is too focused on the movement of her hands to notice the small smile on her face. He has not noticed her eyes hidden discreetly behind dark glasses, watching him as he is watching her, watching his cock harden, watching him reach out to touch her, watching him pull his cock into his hand. She saw him arrive the other day and hoped that he would take time to appreciate the view of the ocean as well as the beauty of sharing this time with her.

Her own body reacting to this erotic interlude, her hands continue their journey and seek out the oil covering her belly, slowly making circles around her navel, down to her hips and back up to reach for those luscious breasts. Hands deftly move across the dark nipples, fingers pinching and teasing the soft flesh until it is erect and taut, as a small moan escapes from her lips. She lays her head back as she alternates between pulling the tight buds and filling her hands with the creamy flesh, her eyes fixed upon him, watching as his own hand reaches to fondle a nipple. His eyes darken as he watches her, his lids heavy with desire and she begins to squirm within the hammock, her legs sliding back worth, revealing brief glances of her dark mound. Ever so slowly, one hand glides down her belly, fingers reaching into silky strands of hair, back arching at the first touch upon her swelling clit.

She watches him shift his body slightly, position himself more comfortably as his strokes lengthen and quicken. She senses his anticipation and allows herself to smile as she opens her legs for him and slides her well oiled hand deep down the crevice between her satiny thighs. Pulling her hand back up, she allows herself some selfish pleasure as she slowly strokes the hard bud, drawing small circles with her hand, increasing the pressure, creating that delicious sensation of pulling deep inside of her. She is reluctant to cum; she is not ready for him to do so. Then suddenly she is caught up in the swirling spirals of an intense orgasm, her body writhing, her head thrown back, her hand furtively stroking, the moans escaping her lips as the sensations crescendo and then diminish. Her body relaxes some but the motion of her hand does not cease and so quickly that even she is surprised, her body is thrown into a twisting, soaring explosion of pleasure as another orgasm overtakes her and peaks sharply before abating.

She lays so still, her hand resting on her silky, wet mound, her slightly heaving chest the only indication that she is still alive, whereas in contrast, he cannot sit still. His body squirms, his breaths are rapid, his strokes are intense; he hopes that there is more; he yearns for there to be more; he silently screams for there to be more! Then slowly, a glorious smile spreads across her face, her hand reaches to remove the dark glasses, her brilliant blue eyes are revealed and he gasps as they burn into his own. The realization that she has been watching him flashes across his body like a lightning bolt, catapulting his arousal to a dangerous level. His hand becomes still on his throbbing cock, his heart pounds, his eyes search hers as they hope, plead even, for there to be more. She is amused by the torturous look upon his face as she slides a finger inside herself, pulling it back out and bringing the cum soaked digit to her mouth. Seductively sucking the musky juice, sliding it in and out of her lush lips, her eyes dance with a taunting sparkle with her finger so gloriously fucking that mouth.

He begins to stroke his turgid flesh once more and she smiles so sweetly as her hand slides down to a nipple, pinching and pulling the swollen bud, watching his dark eyes devour her. Reaching down beside her, he is taken aback when he sees her pick up the book; he is startled to hear himself say “No”, loud enough that she hears him. She chuckles as she lifts the cover to what is actually a box, not a book and nestled inside of it is a golden, shiny dildo, which she removes as she sets down the box. She holds it up for him, smiling and shrugging as if to say, “is this ok?” and is rewarded with his stunning smile and a soft, imploring “please”. Anxious to continue pleasing him, she slides the golden cock first over each breast and nipple and then down her belly, over dark hair, shuddering as it passes over her still quivering clit. With one quick thrust, she fills herself; he can actually hear the scrumptious sound of her juices surrounding the cock and sucking it deep inside of her.

Her eyes locked upon his, the distance offering peripheral sight of the movement of their hands; they are both in control of their own pleasure, yet it is obvious that completion is not possible without each others presence. This interlude has been too erotic, too pleasurable for either one to break away now; satisfaction will only be gained with one mutual orgasmic moment. Soon her body rocks from the momentum of her fucking, his body bucks from the force of his stroking, their eyes smolder and then widen as their arousal reaches toward the pinnacle. The first wave rolls over her and he watches as it consumes her body, watches as she rides the cock, fucking and fucking as her body convulses with pleasure, her eyes reflecting the ecstasy her body feels. He wants so badly to ride the waves with her, but he knows there is more, he knows it will take more to satiate this erotic vixen, so he waits and he urges her on with the lust in his eyes.

Her breathing begins to slow a bit, as does the hand that has been so fervently fucking her, and she focuses a moment on his long, determined strokes urging his cock to release. Licking her lips, locking her eyes on him, she moans as the next waves build within her and then cries out, “God yes!” , as they slam over her. These simple words drive him over the edge, as his body heaves from the explosion of his orgasm. Their eyes burn deep into each other as the rapture within scorches each of them with its fiery tongue. Nothing but the sensations in their bodies and the connection of their souls matters at this moment in time. They are completely unified even though their bodies have never touched.

He falls back against the window frame, replete and exhausted, the sweat pouring off his body faster than the cool breeze can evaporate it. His eyes are closed; his breathing is slowing and is heart is resuming a more normal rhythm. He is calm, completely relaxed and satiated, more so than he has been for months. This brief, non-contact sexual encounter has brought him immense fulfillment and his mind begins to wander to the realm of reality and the pleasure that waits. Determined to close the physical gap between them, he opens his eyes to speak with her, but she is no longer there. The hammock is gone, the sand beneath it undisturbed. He shakes his head as if to awaken it from a dream, but the result is the same, she is not there, nor does it appear she ever was. He sits awhile, pondering the last hour, reliving each moment, seeing her eyes, feeling her passion, knowing it was all too strong to not be real.

It is then that he awakens, runs to the window and looks down in utter despair, to see small children, playing on a patio with no canopy, near the sand with no tree. It was all a dream, yet his soul screams that someday it will be real.