Catriona at the Beach

After the drive down to Cornwall, with an overnight stop just south of Manchester, and the frantic lovemaking on arrival at his cottage, Catriona and Rory were tired. He picks her up in his arms and carries her upstairs to the bedroom, helps her out of her clothes, resisting the temptation that this offers and lays her on the bed pulling the duvet over her.

"You lie there and rest Catriona my love," he says, "I'll go and get dinner under way."

She reaches up and pulls his head down to her, their mouths meet, their tongues entwine in sensuous lingual combat. This passionate kiss seems to last for hours, but in reality is only a few seconds.

"Oh, Rory," this through tears of joy, "it's so good to be here at last."

He breaks away from her knowing that if he doesn't she will not get her much needed rest, and he won't get any food prepared.

Rory heads off to the kitchen with his mind racing, what to cook? Looking around he notes that Pearl has done as asked and stocked up with what he had asked for, enough for a couple of days. Something simple, something light, he doesn't really want to concentrate on anything complicated. He decides on chicken, but how? Yes! An old friend, tried and trusted, and what's more simple. Chicken breasts stuffed with a butter, garlic, herb, and ham mixture, wrapped in a rasher of bacon to hold it together and lightly roasted. But what to go with it? Aha, yes, a savoury rice with peas, sweet corn, broccoli florets, and mushrooms. All topped off with a light chilli sauce. A plain, simple meal, but, what about desert? His eyes scan the kitchen for inspiration, and fall upon a bowl of fruit. The answer is sitting there! Pears lightly poached in red wine, with a brandy cream topping; light, delicious, and really sexy.

He gets busy, bustling around the kitchen, preparing, cooking, cleaning up behind myself. He's so engrossed in preparing a meal for the lady he loves, so much so that the time passes quickly, and before he knows it the meal is ready. It is such a lovely evening which makes the decision that they should eat outside, Quickly laying the table on the patio overlooking the private beach, private because no one can get to it without passing through this property, he is finally ready. He returns to the bedroom to find Catriona still fast asleep, bending he kisses her awake. Her arms wrap around his neck, and they become lost in yet another deeply passionate kiss. Reluctantly, Rory pulls back, he doesn't want their first meal in his cottage, this is Catriona's first visit, together spoilt.

"Food first," he says, "just throw on something loose, no one overlooks us here. The nearest neighbour is half a mile away."

"So," she chuckles, "no knickers is fine then?"

"Definitely!" Comes the wicked reply.

It is not until Catriona sits down, and is presented with a well-proportioned chicken breast sitting on a savoury bed of rice and vegetables, that she realises just how hungry she is. They eat with Catriona making appreciative noises as she devours first the chicken dish, then with extreme relish the desert. Through the meal, in response to her question, Rory tells her that the house had been in his family since his grandparents had bought it just before the war, and that it had come to him through his mother. They demolished a bottle of wine with the meal, which adds to the spice of the cooling evening air. Although eating and drinking in relative silence, they have been devouring each other with their eyes, each anticipating the week ahead.

The meal finished, they sit quietly looking out across the beach to the sea beyond, drinking in the beauty as the sinking sun slowly disappears behind the headland, and the air becomes slowly colder. Rory moves around the table, takes her hand and pulls her up, sliding an arm about her waist he says,

"Come my love, let's go down to the beach."

Her arm snakes around his neck pulling him to her, their mouths meet in yet another sensuous, deeply passionate kiss.

"Thank you for the lovely meal," she says, "I was famished. And yes I would love a walk on the beach."

They walk, arms about each other's waists, down the garden path, through the rustic gate that leads onto the path to the beach. The only sounds they are aware of, as they walk in silence down the winding path, are the bird song, and the gentle lapping of the sea on the shore. Each knows exactly what is going through the other's mind, so there is no need for verbal communication, the whole process being very much on a sort of telepathic level. They know, instinctively, that they are meant to be, here, now, this is proved as at exactly the same moment their arms tighten about each other's waists.

"Rory, are you my twin?" Catriona asks.

"That very much depends if you are mine." he replies.

They laugh again, and walk out onto to soft warm sand, back into the evening sun, and across the beach,

"I know a spot over at the end where we can sit and watch the sunset." Rory says.

They walk across the sand, laughing, joking, making small talk, teasing one another, until they come to the spot at the end of the beach.

Here, centuries of wave action have carved, and smoothed, the rock into a natural seat, facing due west, as if nature knew that one day someone would be wanting to watch the sun set. Rory sits down and pulls Catriona onto his lap, her arms find their natural place around his neck, and her head its place on his shoulder. They sit for some time, sharing the beauty, watching the sun drop over the horizon, listening to the waves gently lapping at the shore, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ear. Her face suddenly appears in front of Rory's, Their mouths meet, tongues entwine in a sensuous sexual tango, she squirms on his lap trying to make herself comfortable, with the bulge forming beneath her.

Rory pulls her to him squashing her breasts against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her, enjoying the first, unhurried, intimacy between them since they arrived. On the drive down, it was a frenzied fingering to relax Catriona for the journey. On arrival it was again a frenzied coupling to relieve the tensions of the journey. In neither case was time taken to enjoy each other, to fully arouse one another, it was basic raw sex, which fulfilled a need in them both, allowing them to progress to what they both knew was there - love.

Breaking off the kiss, Rory lifts her so that they can get up, and sit on the sand, recommencing their passionate kiss. He lays back on the sand, pulling her with him, both totally immersed in the passion of their kiss to the exclusion of all else. The air is much cooler now that the sun has gone, but the summer evening air is not cold. They lay there, Catriona half on top of him engrossed in their passion for one another, seeing and hearing nothing, all that exists is their lips, tongues, the sensations that this kiss brings them. So engrossed that neither bothers to think about breathing, that is a problem for mother nature to deal with, the priority is their love for one another.

Rory's hands slide down her back, grabbing her buttocks, pulling her close, feeling that, as suggested, there is nothing beneath her light summer dress. He rolls toward her turning her onto her back and reversing their positions. Her hands slide up beneath his loose fitting shirt pushing it up over his shoulders, he raises his arms and breaks the kiss long enough for his shirt to come off. At the same time Rory is busy with the buttons of her loose fitting dress, the top four come undone easily, exposing a magnificent pair of breasts to the gaze. They gleam and reflect that wondrous light that comes between the setting sun, and full darkness, especially near the sea.

He cannot resist, his head drops to take a ripe nipple into his mouth, sucking on it, tickling it with his tongue, savouring the slightly sweet taste, feeling it harden as her arousal grows. Her hand slides down, inside his boxer shorts, finding his manhood swollen, rigid and ready for action. Her other hand joins in tugging, pushing, trying to get the boxers off. Rory raises himself slightly allowing her to push them down to his knees, as he attends to the remaining buttons of her dress, at the same time kicking off his boxers, whilst removing her arms from the sleeves, leaving her lying naked on the dress.

His lips come back to her body, his tongue following that irresistible path down across her stomach, bathed in the light reflected by the sea. He stops to lick her naval, tickling it, before continuing along the path to his intended goal. Moving down he pries her knees apart, sliding his arms beneath them, lifting them slightly to allow him better access to that holiest of shrines. He brings his head down allowing his tongue to lightly, oh so lightly trace the outline of her pussy lips, barely touching them, just tickling. A gasp escapes her lips, followed closely by a moan of pleasure, Catriona raises her hips slightly forcing your pussy hard against Rory's face. He gets the message, his tongue parts those beautiful pussy lips, searching for the little passion switch hiding within. Licking, lapping, circling, until finding your erect clitoris, and stroking it.

"Oh, Rory, eat me, tongue fuck me, PLEASE!"

Rory sucks her clit into his mouth, nibbling it, sucking it, licking it, before driving his tongue deep into her sweet, juicy pussy, sipping its nectar, drinking deeply from the well of love. He brings his tongue back out to pay homage to her clit, replacing it with two fingers, slipping them slowly into her, wiggling them, twisting them, massaging her pussy walls as they slide deeper and deeper into her, all the time keeping up the pressure on her clit with his tongue. Her incoherent moans and words of passion, of ecstasy ring out across the beach, echoed back from the far end, giving a sort of stereo effect.

Rory's cock is at bursting point, aching to be put to its proper use, Catriona's cries of pleasure serve only to increase his ardour. But, he sticks to his task, knowing the pleasure you derive from my lingual activities on your pussy. All the time I a sucking at her clit, his fingers are working their magic inside her, tickling, massaging her inner walls, which begin contracting around his fingers, signalling the onset of her orgasm. Her hips start to buck wildly, he has some difficulty keeping his mouth and fingers in place to ensure her maximum pleasure, tightening his grip around her legs helps him manage. Then her orgasm hits, mimicking the waves on the shore, washing over her wave after wave, as she comes vociferously, screaming,

"Oh shit! I'm coming, suck harder..."

Her orgasm is so intense, she comes so hard, Rory's face is drowned in her juices, he can't lap fast enough to take them all. Gently he brings you back down from her high with long, slow, soothing strokes of his tongue.

"Oh, Rory, lover," she whispers, "that was wonderful. Was I noisy?"

"Just a tiny bit." he replies.

He slides back up your body until his mouth meets hers, again in passionate embrace, their tongues once more picking up that sensual dance of love. Her hand finds his rampant manhood, her fingers curling around it.

"Oh, lover, did I do this to you?"

"Well," he chuckles, looking about the beach, "I can't see anyone else around."

"Then," pulling him onto her, "I'd better do something about it."

She part her legs again, allowing Rory between them, pulling him by that part which brings her such joy, tugging it towards its ultimate resting place. She is are dictating the pace now, bringing the head against her pussy lips, parting them just enough to allow her to rub her clit with the very tip of his ever swelling cock. Round and round she rubs it, to and fro, bringing her clit into the eye and fucking his cock with it, before again rubbing the tip round and over it, teasing, tantalizing him, bringing his cock just to her entrance, then quickly moving it back over her clitoris to begin teasing again.

As she is teasing him, He is calculating his moment, waiting, timing her manipulations of his cock. Then just as she brings it once more to her pussy entrance Rory gives a thrust of his hips and drives it deep into her, their bellies slapping together. His cock buries itself deep, deep within her, knocking at the door of her womb, their shaven pubic areas sliding together as one. They fit so well, so tightly together, as would a new key in a lock, a perfect union of two bodies. They lie locked in this passionate embrace for what seems like hours but is probably no more than a minute, their mouths glued together, tongues entwined.

Her hips twitching beneath him send the message that she wants fucking. He withdraws his rigid member until only the tip is still in contact with her pussy, then slowly, so slowly reinserts it until it is once more lodged deep within her. He continues these long, slow strokes, pushing his body forward so that the full length of my cock draws against her clit on both the withdrawal and re-entry strokes. She moans with each sensuous stroke, her hips matching his rhythm perfectly, his rhythm matching that of the waves lapping the shore.

"Oh, baby that's so good, fuck me, make me come with you."

Rory knows that with this slow measured fucking he can hold back his orgasm for quite a long time, especially if he also think of mundane things, a favourite trick being to recite the 75 times table over and over in his head. But he knows that to take too long now would be wrong, because they both need this loving, this closeness, to cement the bond which they have always known to be there. The time for interminable fucking is not now, the place is not here, but somewhere far more comfortable.

He knows that she feels the same, no words pass between them, it is instinctive, each knowing the other so well. He feels her hands sliding down his back to his arse cheeks, grabbing them, pulling him to her, knowing without being told that this is a signal to get on with it. He feels a finger tracing around his anus, God, so erotic, forcing him to drive deeper into her, to increase the tempo of his strokes. Faster, harder, deeper, he thrusts his now almost bursting cock into her, gone are the long, slow, sensuous strokes of moments ago, now both are carried away, cocooned within their love for one another. He feels her pussy walls starting their cycle of pre orgasmic contractions, milking, squeezing his cock, signalling that it wants the soothing balm that his cock has to offer.

Faster and harder they are driven by their passion which has taken over, no longer in control of the destiny of their actions. Rory knows that they are both so close, both well beyond the point where they could stop and wait to prolong our lovemaking, they both need, want this - and now! Their moans and cries of love, incoherent words, urging each other onwards, rising in equal intensity with their passion. Onward, ever onward riding the wave, until it finally has to break. He feels her finger drive deeply into his arse, forcing him to drive my cock so deep into her that his balls almost join it inside, forcing the onset of his orgasm.

Such a wave of spunk gallops up through his cock and out of the eye, wave after wave of hot, white, thick creamy juice pours into her, triggering yet another orgasm to overtake her. Their mutual orgasm is so intense, they are so high on the endorphins which sexual activity produces, that it seems that the world has stopped revolving. It takes them some time to come down from this high, all the while still locked together, joined at hips and mouths, in a still passionate embrace, just basking in the post orgasmic bliss, in the love just shared so deeply.

Finally they part and sit up suddenly realizing just how long they had been on the beach, how dark, how cold it had become. They quickly pull their clothes back on.

"I put a bottle of champagne on ice," Rory says, "now I think we really have something to celebrate."

Again their arms slide naturally around each other's waists as they pick their way back up the winding path to the cottage retreat, and the night ahead.