Brenda's Beach Day

Brenda couldn't have asked for a better day. While the sun was bright in the summer sky, the temperature was perfect; warm, with a gentle, cooling breeze.

Brenda spread out her blanket, then unfolded her beach chair. It was the low sitting type, the kind that allowed her to stretch her legs out, her feet just past the edge of the blanket, her toes curling in the sun toasted sand.

Brenda applied the coconut suntan lotion generously; she already had a good base tan but wanted to take no chances. She couldn't help but shiver a little at the feel of her own hands rubbing the slippery oil into her supple skin.

Once finished, Brenda eased herself back into the chair, popped a water bottle into the armrest cupholder, then slipped her sunglasses on and settled in to do what she'd come all this way to do: relax, unplug, and unwind.

No ear buds in her ear, just the sounds of the waves crashing and the cries of the gulls circling in the sky above. No emails, no texts, no social media; she'd purposely left her phone back in the hotel room. She wanted no distractions, no interruptions. This was her day. Her time. And she'd been in desperate need of it.

This trip had been planned months ago, and originally it was supposed to be a celebration: ten years of wedded bliss. That was before she'd found him in bed with another woman. A prostitute. Brenda had nothing against sex workers generally. But he'd brought her into their own home. Their own bed. It was as if he'd intentionally tried to insult her, to hurt her in the worst possible way.

The crazy part about it was that if he'd have even considered the idea that she might be interested, Brenda might not merely have approved of hiring a professional, but joined in. It certainly would have been something to spice up what had become an infrequent and dull routine sex life.

Part of her couldn't help but laugh at how ultimately pathetic it had made him look, that he had to PAY to cheat on her.

The divorce had been quick. And profitable, at least for her. She'd kept the house, although it was now on the market, and she'd also kept the reservations for this vacation.

And now she was keeping the promise she'd made to herself to leave the past behind and make this the first day of her new future.

She'd even bought a new bikini to celebrate. Much smaller than what she'd normally wear, and she knew it might draw some unwanted attention. But for the first time in a long time, Brenda found herself not entirely uncomfortable with the idea of being the object of male gaze. Thirty and once again single, she kinda hoped at least some men might still be interested.

She was still in amazing shape for her age. She'd kept up with both regular yoga and jogging.

And although she'd married young, they never had children. Which Brenda had regretted only until discovering what a bastard her potential children's father was. And so her belly was without stretch marks, her breasts still firm, with no signs of sagging.

Still, the bikini felt... snug. At 5' 4", she had curves in all the right places, curves the bikini seemed determined NOT to cover as intended. She'd already had to stop and adjust the top several times to avoid any nip slips during her trudge along the sandy beach.

And now her bottoms seemed determined to ride up far enough against her to provide anyone passing by with a view usually reserved only for her gynecologist.

Glancing around to make sure no one was looking her way, Brenda reached down and surreptitiously adjusted her suit, trying but not quite ignoring the tingle she felt due to the friction and pressure of the shifting fabric. "Later," Brenda thought to herself. "Later. When I get back to the room. First with that lovely shower head, then with my Hitachi."

With that pleasant thought in mind, Brenda closed her eyes and simply basked in the radiating sun.

She dozed off easily, and the dreams came readily. Flashing images at random; sweaty bodies in varying degrees of undress, some faceless strangers, others people from her past, including the college roommate she'd had a brief dalliance with.

Brenda awoke just as her dream lover had buried her face between her thighs, feeling flushed from far more than the sun. A dawning horror hit her when she realized her hand was between her legs, her fingers touching exposed, slick flesh.

Exposed! At some point as she'd slept, the string holding the right side of her bikini bottom to her hip had managed to come undone. The triangle flap had fallen toward, exposing half her vulva, a tiny pink labia also peeking its way out from beneath what cloth still barely covered the rest of her.

Her fingers flailed at the strings in a desperate attempt to re-tie them. When at last her modesty was recovered, her gaze traversed the surrounding beach, looking for anyone who might have noticed.

The beach was not very crowded for such a beautiful day. While there were people here and there, they were scattered in small clumps, well spaced out. The closest person within possible eye view was perhaps... Brenda was terrible at judging distances... ten, maybe twenty yards away? She could see the man's face, but not enough to make out any features. Even if he had looked her way, Brenda doubted he'd have seen much of anything.

Still, the idea that someone could have walked right by her while she was sleeping, her legs agape with her freshly waxed mound on full display...

... excited her. Oh, of course she was mortified by it, but also could not deny that the possibility of having inadvertently exposed herself to strange eyes was making her already aching pussy pulse with an even greater urgency.

Brenda squeezed her thighs closed, gasping from the pressure this put against her clit.

It was an old standby trick from her years in college; during long, boring lectures she'd distract herself by clenching her thighs tight then flexing her pelvic muscles. She'd achieved orgasm quite a few times that way, and apparently it was like riding a bicycle, because she was already close to one now.

"Brenda, stop," she chided herself. "You're in public. What are you thinking?" Ignoring her inner voice, she continued, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow.

A few last compressions was all it took, and her body jolted upright in her chair with the suddenness of it. Unfortunately, as with her past experiences, the quickie climax left her with a hunger still unsatisfied.

The rational part of her brain told her to simply head back to her room. There, she could indulge herself fully, in private.

But there was another voice in her head, a voice long suppressed. A voice telling her to live a little, to take a risk, to do something NAUGHTY.

A voice she felt tempted to listen to. Still, there was a huge difference between being risky and being stupid, and the last thing Brenda needed was to have what was supposed to be a rejuvenating vacation ruined by being publicly humiliated, or worse, arrested for indecent exposure and lewd behavior.

Looking around again, there was still no one close enough to her that would be able to actually notice her actions, if she were discreet enough. Even the gentleman directly in front of her was now in full recline and not even facing her direction.

Brenda decided to ease into things under the guise of applying more suntan lotion. Pouring the slippery oil generously in her hands, she started at her arms, goosebumps already forming as they traveled slowly along exposed skin, up to her shoulders, down to her cleavage, then her firm, flat belly.

After another application of oil, Brenda moved to her right thigh, down to the calf, then over to her left leg and back up. By the time she reached the crease of her upper left thigh, she was a hot, sticky mess.

Brenda's eyes continued to dart left and right. Finally convinced no one was paying any attention to her, she slipped a finger past the elastic of the suit and into her slick cleft. The tip glided easily up between her petals to find her engorged button. Brenda had to bite her lip to stifle her moans as she slowly traced circles over the sensitive nub.

Closing her eyes, Brenda continued her steady caress, the familiarity of her routine now made new by the excitement of doing so in such a risky environment. The warm sun was also a factor, her skin hot and sensitive to the point that the lightest breeze sent waves of erotic bliss flowing through her.

She was on the verge of climax, waves rolling in like the surf on the sand, when she sensed someone approaching.

Jerking her hand away quickly, Brenda opened her eyes to spot a couple of roughly middle age approaching. The woman looked miserable, the man even more so, his arms burdened with what appeared to be a very heavy cooler.

Brenda's sudden movement had apparently drawn his attention, and although both were wearing sunglasses, Brenda's heart stopped as she felt his eyes on her.

It was less than a millisecond; the man was taking no chances with his wife right there beside him. Still, Brenda thought she could see the tension in his neck muscles as he fought not to turn his head as he passed by.

"What did he see?" Brenda wondered. "Surely no more than my hand moving up from my thigh, right? I could have just been scratching an itch." She couldn't help but let out an embarrassed giggle. "Which, in a way, I suppose I was."

The interruption had only slightly quelled that itch. She felt the dull ache of an orgasm denied, but the fear of almost being caught stayed her hand for the moment.

Brenda contemplated her next move. The day was still young, and she wasn't keen on the idea of packing up and heading back to her room just yet. Still, she was horny as fuck. And she had to admit she was enjoying her risqué behavior.

Inspiration struck; something naughty, but not enough to get her in any trouble. Steeling herself, Brenda stood. Her suit had already ridden up in the back, but with a quick tug she managed to make it practically disappear up the crack of her firm, well rounded bottom.

Brenda felt exposed, but not dangerously so. This kind of thing happened all the time on the beach, and there were some women who displayed far more flesh in far more revealing thongs.

Still, she felt goosebumps as she strolled as casually as she could manage towards the water. Brenda made sure to take her time, and to pass as close as possible (without being obvious) by the gentleman still lying supine on his blanket.

From the corner of her eye she saw the man stir, and had to resist looking back over her shoulder to see if he was indeed checking her out.

Instead she remained focused ahead as she slowly waded into the gentle surf. She paused knee deep, then bent as if to brush something from her leg. Brenda felt her face flush as her suit rode up still higher.

Fearing she may have exposed too much, she straightened then plunged forward into the water. Coming up for air, Brenda turned back towards the beach to spot the man now sitting up on one elbow. Was he looking at her? It was difficult to tell with his sunglasses on, but it certainly felt like it.

Leaning back, Brenda allowed herself to simply float, fully aware of her breasts now bobbing along the surface as she rose and fell with the surf.

Her nipples were already hard and clearly defined under the wet fabric. Finding her feet again, Brenda lowered herself enough to conceal her fingers as they tugged at the top just enough to expose the top of her areola.

Taking a deep breath, Brenda stood and slowly made her way back to the beach. As her hips rose from the water, she fought the urge to adjust the lower portion of her suit which was now clinging snugly, forming a clear cameltoe.

Instead she continued walking, very conscious of just how exposed she was, and of the eyes of the man on his blanket, doing his very best to pretend he was looking at anything or anyone else but her.

For the first time, Brenda dared look at the man directly. He was older, perhaps by ten years, handsome, rugged, but with a kind look about him. This wasn't his first day at the beach; his darkly tanned skin glistened in the sun.

He was no body builder, but the man obviously was trying to stay in shape. Brenda also could not help but admire his short, sexy, salt and pepper hair.

As she came closer to his blanket, the man made a more deliberate move to look at her, and to her delight, he spoke. "How's the water?"

Brenda offered what she hoped wasn't a too obvious smile. "Lovely. Cool, but not cold. Perfectly refreshing. We really couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day, could we?"

The man returned her smile with his own. "Agreed. Beautiful day. Absolutely... beautiful."

The way he stressed the repeated "beautiful" made the butterflies already fluttering in her stomach threaten to burst free in excitement. Somehow, Brenda managed to contain herself. "Well, enjoy it," she offered with a flirtatious toss of her wet hair before moving past him and back to her own blanket.

Plunking down in her seat, she could barely contain her girlish giggle. Or her once again growing arousal as she took in the state of her bathing suit and just how much she'd offered up on display to the handsome stranger.

Her nipples were as hard as diamonds; there was no way he couldn't have noticed them. That is, unless he'd been too focused on her cleft, every fold and curve of it highlighted under the sheer wet material.

"Oh, Brenda," she laughed inwardly. "That was so, so naughty. But wonderful."

Brenda let the sun dry her before reapplying her sunscreen, then decided to work on her back. She had a fleeting moment to think about asking the man to help her put the lotion on before dismissing the idea as simply too forward. This wasn't a porno, after all.

Still, she decided the trope of undoing the strap of her bikini top to avoid tan lines wasn't too cliché, and a fun way to still feel just ever so slightly exposed.

Brenda settled in on her blanket, her head facing towards the water, and of course the man that had captured her attention.

He was now on his stomach as well, facing her. His head was propped up on a folded towel, and his sunglasses were still on. So again she was unable to tell if he was looking directly at her or not.

"Hmm, how to test it?" Brenda wondered. After a moment, inspiration hit. Brenda lifted herself up on her elbows, her untied top slipping free of her breasts to remain on the blanket beneath her. Not far enough to fully expose her, but there was a fair amount of cleavage for sure.

She revealed still more as she rummaged through her beach bag for the romance novel she'd picked up on a whim at the airport gift shop. Settling back on her elbows, she opened the book where she'd marked her page, but instead of reading, Brenda now looked beyond it, observing the man to gauge any reaction. To her disappointment, she saw none. He hadn't moved at all.

Brenda felt suddenly frustrated. The only way to continue this tease was to lift the book higher, blocking her face. But in that position, she'd be unable to see him, to catch whether or not he was looking.

She was considering perhaps changing to a better position when suddenly the man rose from his blanket.

Brenda pretended to be absorbed in her book as she watched him stretch, then turned her way.

Brenda gasped. Was that a bulge in his suit? Or simply an illusion of sun and shadow? It certainly looked promising. She could imagine it, pressed up against her lower abdomen as he enveloped her in his strong arms. She could almost feel him grab her ass, push her into him, feeling his desire for her throb and pulse, the taste of salt water on their eager lips met and...

Back in reality, the man turned away and headed into the water.

Brenda hadn't been able to determine if he'd been watching her, but she was definitely now watching him, her mind racing with images of them swimming together, bodies close, hands brushing over exposed skin, teasing, tickling, tantalizing each other the way new lovers often do...

Subconsciously, her hips moved, pushing herself down, working against the blanket and the sand beneath, and again Brenda felt the ache of desire coursing through her.

Swollen nipples tingled as her breasts swayed ever so gently with her movements, and Brenda could feel herself slowly soaking through her bikini bottom. The scent of her arousal was strong, even over the smell of suntan lotion and salt air.

Yet another small but powerful orgasm gripped her, and Brenda was now seriously considering whether she could get away with slipping a hand between her legs when the man made his way out of the water and back to his blanket.

Brenda continued to admire him as she dried himself, his wet trunks now definitely highlighting what appeared to be quite the impressive package. "No shrinkage for him," Brenda thought with a barely suppressed giggle.

And then, to her shock, he was coming her way. Panicked, Brenda did her best to pretend she'd been reading this whole time, only looking up from her book when his shadow fell over her.

He'd removed his sunglasses, and the warm brown eyes that now looked down at her had her immediately hypnotized. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking.

"You were right, the water is perfect. Really refreshing," the man drawled in a slightly southern accent that made Brenda think of actor Sam Elliott. "Hey, I was thinking I need a snack. There's a little water ice cart just over there, was gonna go get me one and I figured I'd ask if you wanted anything."

Brenda was stunned. It certainly wasn't what she was expecting from him. Odd, yet also sweet.

"Um, sure," she finally managed. "That's very kind of you, thanks."

"Okay, what d'ya like then?"

"That body pinning me down on my hotel bed all night," Brenda thought wildly, before managing a much more appropriate, "Um, cherry, if they have it please."

"Sure," he grinned. Turning, he took two steps, then paused to look back at her. "I'm Paul, by the way."

"Brenda. Lovely to meet you."

"Lovely to meet you too, Brenda. One cherry water ice, comin' up."

Brenda sighed longingly as he started to walk away. "Damn, the view from the rear is just as good."

Almost as if he'd heard her thoughts, he stopped and turned back. Brenda blushed because it felt obvious she'd been staring.

Paul didn't seem to mind though. Instead a broad grin spread across his face.

"Oh, and, by the way, I thought you should know... your book is upside down."

AUTHORS AFTERWARDS

If this seems kinda short and simple, there's a reason for it.

I've been struggling to write recently; it's why I haven't published anything in awhile.

I want to thank my friend Emily Miller for her encouragement, support and inspiration to try something simple, like a story about a woman at the beach.

And so here we are.

I realize I left off abruptly. And I apologize if you wanted more, like an extended sex scene between Brenda and her new friend.

Maybe next time.

To new readers, welcome. To my regulars, I appreciate your support.