tagGroup SexA Beachy Education

A Beachy Education


Ending up down at the city beach wasn't part of the plan. But then, I didn't really have a plan. I had been kind of wandering through life in a dream state since my divorce became final. I go to work, (two jobs, now), I go out and wander around looking for inexpensive things to do, I go home to my new tiny apartment. It is ironic that you have so little money to entertain yourself once you have the freedom to do whatever comes to mind. I'm lonely, but I don't really want to date yet. So, when I got off my second job as an undercover security guard at a ritzy downtown complex, I needed something to fill up the time. That's how I found myself walking.

I like the beach at night. This is a lake beach, rather than an ocean beach, with a little resort town situated next to the shore. Having grown up next to the sea, I miss the roar of the breakers, but the quietly lapping water of the lake has a peaceful quality of its own. Technically, I'm breaking the law -- it is well past the city-imposed 10 P.M. curfew, but I'm not vandalizing anything or selling dope, so I don't feel bad about being here. Besides, late at night is the only time traffic noise doesn't overwhelm the gentle voice of the lake. After a long walk along the shoreline, I decided to just sit with my back against the beach's retaining wall and enjoy the relative quiet. Sometimes I can enjoy the moon's reflection on the water, but there is no moon tonight and the beach is very dark.

It didn't take long for my peaceful respite to be interrupted. I had only been there ten minutes or so when I heard laughter and lively voices approaching. My eyes, having adjusted to the dark, could pick out three figures, and from the sound of their banter and the unsteadiness of their gait, I could tell they had been drinking or maybe smoking a bit. They were nearly upon me when one of them jumped back and said "Holy shit! There's somebody here!!" There was fear in her voice, but something else too, I thought. Mostly she was startled, not scared. There was an undertone of amusement and adventure.

"Hi! Sorry if I scared you," I said from the deep darkness of the retaining wall's shadow.

It turns out there were three girls, and they just stood looking at me for a moment. Finally, their nerve returned and they giggled and talked a little bit among themselves, the way you do when something frightens you and then you're embarrassed when you find out it wasn't anything scary after all. They asked me what I was doing there, and I told them I just liked the beach at night. They were pretty lit, and talkative, and told me they were just visiting, and had to get back to school tomorrow. Until then, they wanted to party! The last hurrah of a too-short vacation, as it were. Anyway, I realized they were all pretty cute, as far as I could see. Bikini tops and shorts contrasted with the light glow of their skin in the starlight. I also realized two other things -- one, I had been feeling pretty melancholy without knowing it, and two, the mirthful chatter of these girls was cheering me up in spite of myself. We went on talking for several minutes, happy smalltalk in an unending flow.

I guess I wasn't listening closely for a minute, because suddenly I heard two words -- sex toy -- and I couldn't figure out where those words fit into the conversation! I must have looked confused, because they all laughed at me and the blond, whose name turned out to be Sarah, asked me if I wanted to be a sex toy. Now, I've been out of the dating game and off the playing field for quite a while, so I honestly didn't know what to think. I figured they were just having a little fun at my expense. They all laughed at me again as I sat there thinking, and though they were all kind of talking at once, it finally sunk in that they really did want a "sex toy!" Evidently, part of their holiday adventure was supposed to be picking up a guy and having a foursome! They hadn't liked any of the college boys they had met in town so far, although they did say they had seen lots of hotties. They way they said it, I got the distinct idea I wasn't exactly on\e of the "hotties, but fortune had smiled on me anyway. At this point, I was beyond confused, but I found myself getting kind of aroused, despite the unlikelihood of anything actually happening. I was still 90% sure they were just poking fun at me.

It was only when all three came over and started touching me, petting my shoulders and neck, and kissing my cheek playfully, and finally kissing each other NOT so playfully, that I decided they were for real. Tops came off, breasts were exposed and suckled, kisses exchanged, and my shirt was removed in a flurry of activity. I couldn't really tell who was doing what to whom, to be honest, but I did gather that the two dark haired girls with Sara were named Emily and Claire. I was glad there were no houses too near the beach -- while I was confident we couldn't be seen, I was worried that someone would hear and investigate.

As things progressed, I felt carried along on a wave of fate and inevitability. Things still didn't feel quite real in a way, but the sensation of a tongue on each of my nipples and one exploring my mouth while six hands roamed my body belied that feeling. By now, my cock had given in and accepted this adventure, but my mind still struggled -- doubt, fear, and even a little guilt muddled my thoughts and tinged the pleasure coursing through my nerve-endings. In one of those weird, "where in the hell did THAT come from?" thoughts, I was suddenly thankful I had been chewing some cinnamon gum! The girls' breath was scented by a sweet mixture of alcohol, fruit, and in at least one case, pot. Sara, I think, but maybe Claire, too... I don't really know, and I didn't really care at the time, either.

Soon, a pair of hands unbuttoned my pants and started to pull them down, when Sara declared, "Hey, he's got handcuffs on his belt! What, are you a cop?" Anger and fear fueled her words. I explained quickly that I was a part time security guard, and the place where I worked didn't want all their frequently wealthy quests to feel intimidated by someone in uniform. It turns out wealthy guests often like to misbehave, in their own manner, and a "cop" on the scene might spoil the mood of revelry. Thankfully, the girls believed me (another odd, stray thought -- how often people disbelieve the truth while swallowing a lie!) and then they started asking if we could play with the cuffs. I demurred at first -- these are real cuffs, not adult store toys with a quick release button -- but three hot, naked girls giving their best pleading pouts are pretty persuasive. Especially on a guy who hasn't had sex in months and is about half way there just from some kissing and petting! Needless to say, out the cuffs came.

They decided they really wanted to make a sex toy out of me, so they cuffed my hands and had me lay down on the pile of clothing we had created. It was actually quite hard to tell what was going on, but it seemed they were true to their words. I sure felt like a sex toy! Each of them took a turn straddling my face while I did my best to please -- pussy tasted SOOOooo good after so long, I could have died then and been happy, and I loved the feeling of energy that flowed through each girl's body as she approached orgasm, squirming and grinding hips into my face. Someone sucked my cock occasionally, but I couldn't tell who, sadly. They were definitely different girls, though, because they had vastly different techniques, and I am pretty sure one of them was deepthroating me right to the balls. It felt incredible, but nobody did anything for too long, so I stayed hard but didn't get too close to cumming. They straddled me cowgirl or reverse cowgirl, too, and there was plenty of kissing and tasting among the girls.

The strongest memory from this part of the night was when Emily was fucking me, reverse cowgirl, and then she leaned back, and lay on top of me, her head resting on my shoulder, against the side of my face. One of the other girls had taken a spot between her legs and was licking her pussy. I could feel the night air on my wet cock, and I could feel the other girl's hair feathering against my hips lightly as she pleasured her friend. Occasionally, I could feel her face or chin against my cock, but she didn't go down on me. All her attention was on that sweet, wet pussy. When Emily came, the convulsions of ecstasy that passed through her created the most amazing sensation in my body, like pure electric pleasure passing directly from skin to skin, muscle to muscle, nerve to nerve. It was as if my body had an orgasm of its own, this time not centered in my loins, but spread all over. Pretty fantastic, and unlike anything I had felt before.

When all three girls seemed to have tried everything they wanted to with their sex toy in this position, someone came up with the bright idea to handcuff me to the lifeguard tower. I wasn't too keen on that idea, but I didn't really seem to have much say in the matter! My protests were roundly ignored, and my three "captors" helped me up and hauled me down the beach to the tower. They only uncuffed me long enough to hook the cuffs around one of the uprights, and then the clasp was back around my wrist. I had never worn handcuffs before, and I was surprised that my wrists were really sore and bruised feeling already.

I stood there feeling vulnerable in a way I hadn't when we were on the beach. For one thing, we were no longer down on the ground in the meager shadow of the retaining wall. We were further out toward the lake, where any passerby up on the boardwalk might see us silhouetted against the water. Standing with my back against the coarse wood of the tower, I could feel the light breeze down the length of my whole body, and that simultaneously made my nipples hard and made me feel very exposed. It's odd how much fear can heighten sensation, and increase excitement. I realized my cock was harder than ever, jutting out like a flagpole. The girls seemed to pick up this. And, my increased vulnerability also brought out the tease in them!

All three seemed to enjoy the sense of power they now had, and tortured me mercilessly by just barely stroking my cock while kissing one another, or sucking me to the point of cumming and then laughing and pulling away just before I orgasmed. They ate each other while I watched, they backed up against me and fucked me while fingering themselves to orgasm, they knelt together in front of me and teased me with tongues and lips. Oddly, at this point, I was first able to get a glimpse of the three girls' personalities. Up to now, they had seemed a blur of amazing, blinding sexuality, but now I picked up on individual differences. Sara was certainly the ringleader, and while flirty and fun, I sensed an underlying heartlessness. To her, I think I had really become a toy. Claire was a follower, nice enough, but I think she would do what ever Sara told her. Emily, while still enjoying the whole adventure, seemed a little put off when the teasing took a more cruel turn. She alone seemed to pick up on the fact that, no matter how hard my cock, I was starting to feel a little abused. Or at least, misused...

When, at last, Sara suggested the unthinkable -- that they leave me cuffed to this damned tower -- it was Emily who protested. Claire seemed to realize it was over the top, beyond fun and on to the point where a person's life could be ruined. But Sara convinced her that someone would help me or I would get free before morning, and she placed the handcuff keys on the deck of the tower. Emily argued the whole time, but at last the two other girls rounded up their clothing and bodily dragged her off by the arms. She kept looking back.

So, I can't even begin to describe the maelstrom of thoughts and feelings one experiences when handcuffed to a lifeguard tower in a public place, and one's entire life and career are about to head down the shitter. Sheer panic took me for a while, and I simply couldn't think. Then, I began to try and figure out something, anything, to get free. I tried overturning the tower, but it was too heavy and stable. I tried pulling my hands through the cuffs, but they were simply too tight. I would have had to break my hands to get free. I remembered the keys above my head on the deck of the chair, but they may as well have been on the moon. I thought of my cell phone in the pocket of my jeans, across the beach. I had a crazy vision of someone finding it, and remembered with dismay that the first person in my contact list was still my ex-wife. I hadn't remembered to change it. Who would I change it to, anyway, I thought with a touch of self-pity. And I thought of how my ex would feel if some stranger called her to tell her my first sexual experience resulted in me being handcuffed, naked, in public, by three college girls on a lark. I actually laughed out loud at that thought, even as the horror of it sunk in. It was like the nervous laughter that sometimes escapes when we hear news or see something that is so bad our brains don't know how to process it.

I was roused from this sense of despair and resignation by the sound of footsteps. My heart raced. Who would be out at this time of the night? Hope and black dread wrestled for the uppermost spot in my consciousness. For a moment, I didn't want ANYONE to find me, I just wanted to die here and be done with it. The footsteps came straight toward me -- no hesitation or hint of faltering. The soft swish of feet in the sand bore down on me.

It was Emily.

"I'm so sorry. The others are asleep. We didn't mean... I'm so sorry!" In another of those random thoughts, I was struck by how brave this girl was to come out here alone in the middle of the night, against her friends' wishes, in a strange town. I was overcome with gratitude, and couldn't stop thanking her. To my surprise, she put her fingers to my lips and shushed me quietly. Then, she pressed her body close and kissed me. I was waiting for her to grab the keys and unlock me, but she broke the kiss long enough to say "This is what should have happened." Then she kissed her way down my body.

After the emotional train wreck that had occurred within me such a short time ago, I could scarcely believe that I was responding to her touch. Kneeling down, she looked up and said "You were such a good sport, and we were stupid and drunk. You at least deserve this." And with that, she took my shaft into her mouth and began to give me the most incredible head I have ever felt. Her tongue was magical, and, as it turns out, it was Emily who could deepthroat. She didn't tease at all, but didn't hurry either. She made sure I experienced each sensation to the fullest. When I finally released, I thought I might faint. I had been holding my breath, only sucking in short gasps when my body screamed for oxygen, and now my chest heaved and my heart pounded. My orgasm poured out in a flood of long waves, over and over, and Emily kept sucking me deeply the whole time. As I subsided, her mouth became gentle, caressing, licking and sucking until I was totally spent. She stood up, grabbed the keys and unlocked the handcuffs. She rubbed my stiff wrists, and when she saw I was OK, she handed the keys to me. With a quick kiss, she said "thank you," turned and jogged away. That was it. I never saw any of them again.

I can't say I learned any of the lessons most people would have expected me to learn from that night. I think it was such a once in a lifetime thing, any of the lessons people would normally think of -- be more careful, don't have sex with strangers, don't be so gullible, a grown man should know better than that -- those lessons don't seem to apply. Instead, what I got from that night wasn't a lesson, but a catharsis. I started to FEEL again on that night. It wasn't all good, to say the least! It wasn't even what I'd call normal. But it broke free feelings I didn't ever expect to have again. I learned I can take chances, that I have a wild side, a side willing to take risks. I learned about myself, and that is probably the best gift any three college girls could give a sad divorced guy. Whether they meant to or not.

I never quite understood why Emily thanked me, just before she left. Maybe she was thanking me for not blaming her. Maybe she was thanking me in advance for not filing some kind of kidnapping charges! Maybe she was just thanking me for sharing an amazing experience. I can't ask her now, so I'll probably never know. I feel, though, that I am the one who should be thankful. So, Emily, Claire, and yes, even Sara -- thank you. Thank you for making me feel alive again.

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