In The Dunes

The flight lottery. Christina had not paid extra to pick her seat and had ended up with a middle. Her own fault. She looked at the book in her hands, already bored with it. Passengers made their way toward her row. Guy, black Harley Davidson tee. Please, no. He went past. Yes, thank you, fate. Businessman in a suit. Acceptable. He went past. Oh well. Girl, blue hair, sullen look. No thanks. She stopped. Pointed to the window seat. Christina sighed.

When the girl was seated, she put in ear buds and leaned against the cabin wall and closed her eyes. This would do, Christina thought. She supposed there was only so much luck she could expect. On the flight from Omaha to Denver the window seat had gone unoccupied. She had moved over into it, leaving the middle seat between herself and an older woman -- who, honestly, was pleasant enough -- open.

Next up was a man maybe ten or so years older than she, early forties. Taller than her own five foot ten inches. Casual yet stylish. A permanent smile. Please, yes. He looked at her, put his carry-on in the overhead bin, and took the aisle seat. Yes!

"I'm Lance," he said with a smile. Christina put her book away.

Lance was from Denver, en route to San Francisco on business. He asked where Christina was going.

"Marin County. Friday is our anniversary. Four years."

"Congratulations," Lance said warmly. "Anything exciting planned?"

Marshall had gone out a week earlier. He had more vacation time available, and his friend Peter, who lived in Sausalito, had a boat and they were going to spend some time on the ocean fishing. They'd rented a cottage down by the water and would have a week to themselves. Though Marshall had been hinting that he might not have gotten enough of being out on the water.

"Not much," she told Lance. "Just relaxing. Strolling around interesting places. Eating out. You know, couple stuff."

"I know what couples do," he said easily, with that ever-present smile. Christina looked at him but she couldn't make out his precise meaning. Probably she was seeing what wasn't there, she concluded. Then he held up his left hand. Well. Not that it mattered. They pleasantly chatted as the aircraft departed. After climb-out, Christine excused herself.

"I have to go to the ladies room," she said apologetically as Lance rose so she could get to the aisle. Why did I say that?, she asked herself while walking toward the back of the plane. 'ladies room'? Because I like him, she answered herself, and it sounds better than restroom. It was silly. But the fact was that she didn't have to use the lavatory for anything more than its mirror. Mostly, she just wanted to assure herself of how she appeared. Minor adjustments were all that were required. But why? On a plane? Heading for a spousal getaway? What could happen? Would she even want it to? Christina shook her head, cleared her thoughts. She was having fun.

Their paths had crossed at the right time. She was glad she'd just gotten her hair trimmed and her nails done. The black jeans she wore were flattering of her slender figure. She could at least charm the married man in the seat next to hers, amusing and stimulating herself for the next hour or so.

Christina flushed the toilet for appearances, then made her way back to her seat. Blue hair looked to be asleep. Good. Momentarily, she and Lance were back and deep in a pleasant conversation. He spoke of his interests -- outdoors, especially biking and hiking. She reciprocated with her own, which included gardening and running. They dwelled for a time on the commonalities of hitting the trail and jogging. Lance spoke of his wife, Elaine, and Christina told him about Marshall. She liked hearing about the attractive man's wife. It was a bit perverse, but she enjoyed the comparison between the woman she'd never met and herself. He showed her photos. The woman was more cute than pretty (score one for Christina). She had nice, large breasts (point, Elaine, she thought). But she was shorter (Christina!) and curvier (Elaine...). Christina lingered on the photo for a moment. She was sure that she was better at the carnal arts than Lance's wife. Game, set, match.

They momentarily got just a little lighter, and she knew they were beginning the descent into San Francisco. A disappointment. It could have lasted hours more, and she'd have been content.

On final approach, they were buckled and waiting. Christina's arm was on the rest, when she felt Lance's touch. He had put his hand on hers. A line of electricity ran up her arms. Then down her body. His touch was easy, light. It seemed as though he lingered where his finger contacted her wedding ring. She quivered involuntarily. Lance looked at her with a smile that made Christina melt.

They parted with pleasantries just outside the jetway, then got separated in the throng. Christina smiled and sighed.

That night, Marshall got fucked like he hadn't gotten fucked in months. At one point, Christina had to bite down on her lip to avoid crying out the name of the man she'd met on the plane.

Monday was sublime. They went into the city, walked about. Dined pleasantly. Christina bought some books. Tuesday they hiked Mount Tamalpais. She'd have preferred a run, but that was all right. Then Marshall decided that he was in the mood for some more fishing in the ocean, so Wednesday would see Peter and himself heading out through the Gate for a long day at Bodega Bay. He had inquired politely enough, and Christina had acquiesced without quibbling. Still, she was annoyed. So her husband went to bed early and was up at four and out by five to meet Peter at the marina. She slept late, then had a light breakfast in the lobby before pondering what to do.

The weather on the television said that the day would be gorgeous on the coast. Perfect for Point Reyes, the National Seashore, which was usually chilly but on this day would be warmed by an inland breeze. Why not? she thought. And so Christina put on a pair of sandals and packed her running shoes just in case. Shorts and a tee. She grabbed a book. On the way out of town, she stopped at a supermarket and bought some fruit. On a whim, she grabbed a bottle of grenache.

The ride over the hills was on a delightfully curvy, scenic narrow road. Christina killed a few minutes at the visitor center, then drove out to Point Limantour. Over hills again, but lower this time. She parked, then walked the five minutes out to the beach. It was over a hundred feet wide, the flat past the dunes. Sand for miles in either direction.

Christina kicked off her sandals and dug in her toes. Warm sand over the tops of her feet, cool sand beneath. It was very nice. She was not alone, and surveyed the others there. Couples. A family. Kids playing in the gentle surf, moms under umbrellas, dads tossing a frisbee or playing with a dog. There was a piece of driftwood, most of a tree really, down a ways. She walked to it. Worn smooth. Christina sat down.

For a while, maybe half an hour, she just watched. The dark blue water under the light blue sky. The people, all about. Pelicans flying just above the waves. Finally, she took out her book and read. Not a bad day, really. Christina mostly forgot about Marshall, out there somewhere to the north, fishing.

"Well, well, well," came the voice, nearby. She glanced up. Lance. His smile.

She grinned, marked her book and set it aside, and stood.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said.

Her heart fluttered. Out of nowhere, possibilities. At that moment, Christina was suddenly aware of her arousal. Her nipples had stiffened, but she did not think they were visible through the sports bra and top she wore. She did not dare look. She was also moistening. Getting ready, she realized. Her body was preparing to receive Lance. Crazy. It was just a happenstance coincidence. It's not like Christina was planning on something more. But her body was. She smiled.

Lance had unexpectedly had the entire day off, so he'd made the drive out to the Point Reyes. He was going to go hiking in the hills, but first wanted to see the ocean. Christina patted the log, and he sat down beside her. Close. Their legs touched. Inwardly she swooned just a bit.

There was a particular couple on the beach, not far ahead of them. Mid-twenties, she thought. Not really dressed for the outdoors, probably just enjoying the view. They were holding hands. Saying things to each other, words lost in the breeze. He was blond and attractive, she a short and cute redhead. As Christina watched, blondie reached out and took his ginger's hand. Rings. They were married. Then blondie reached behind ginger and put his hand on her rear. Slowly moved it. She looked at him and smiled.

"Someone's having a very nice day at the beach," Lance observed. "One that I expect is going to get even better soon."

Christina giggled, sounding more girly than she'd intended.

"New love," she offered. "Maybe just married."

"Maybe."

They watched.

"Or maybe," Lance went on, "they're not married to each other. Maybe it's a rendezvous."

"Perhaps. But they're young. So I think not."

She saw him nod to her right.

"But no one would know. They appear to all the world as if they're a married couple, whether or not they are."

Suddenly, Christina was self-conscious. Sitting next to Lance. The ring on her finger. The one on his.

"Let's walk down to the water," he said, standing. She went with him. Lance walked a bit to the north, away from the crowd. They stopped just where the dry sand ended.

Then they just watched. The breeze, soothing. The long wings of the pelicans, rhythmic. The waves, hypnotic. Then Lance took her hand.

"We could be married," he finally said, saying what she'd known he must have been thinking as well. After a time, his hand went to Christina's back. Circular motions, rubbing. Very pleasant. Nipples, hard anew. And wetness. Then his hand went down. To her ass. Pressing firmer now. Touching where it definitely shouldn't, no way to spin this as innocent. Christina turned to look at him, and he returned the gaze.

"Let's be married," Lance said with an easy smile. "Let's be husband and wife. For the next few hours."

"Okay," she whispered, butterflies in her stomach, nervous and excited. And very wet. He leaned over and kissed her. And Christina kissed him back. Lance took her by the hand again and led her back to the log. They sat.

"What do you want to do, Honey?" Christina asked him.

He sat thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's too bad we can't have a picnic," he said.

Christina brightened. "I have some fruit. And wine. But no glasses. I didn't plan on company."

Lance smiled, then led her back to the parking lot. In his car were two extra water bottles. He already had a pair in his pack. Pouring the water out of the two extra, he took a utility knife from his pocket and proceeded to cut the plastic bottles in half.

"Voila," he said. "Classy, no?"

Christina laughed.

She gathered the bag with the fruit and the wine and added the makeshift plastic cup. There was also a light blanket, apparently Peter's. She took that as well.

"Where?" she asked Lance.

"In the dunes," he said.

They had walked slowly down the beach for almost an hour, walking on the firm wet sand right at the water line. Lance would step to the right to avoid the water when a higher wave pushed it further up the beach. Christina in her sandals did not bother. Sometimes they stopped, and he held her and kissed her. They would be close, but not too close. Once she thought she could feel his desire, but could not be certain. The beach became a large sand spit, and gaps appeared in the dunes. Beyond was the estero. They stopped to watch several dolphins breaching, a hundred feet or so offshore. Eventually the pod moved on.

"What do you want to do?" Christina asked.

"I want to go into the dunes," Lance said, "and feed you grapes and share some wine. And then I want to make love to you."

Her knees were suddenly weak. She would lay on the sand and take him then and there, visible for miles in every direction, and not care. But his idea was perfect.

They went into the dunes. Lance spread out the blanket. Christina set out the grapes and the strawberries and the cherries. He opened the bottle of wine and poured the makeshift plastic cups full. Then he fed her a grape. Another. And another. He kissed her. They laughed.

Lance took off his shirt. His upper body revealed was nice. Not ostentatiously ripped but pleasantly fit. More fit than Marshall, she thought. In the moment, she imagined she'd regret the thought, but felt the familiar hardening of her nipples as it went through her mind. As if reading her mind, he reached over and took her top and lifted it off. The sports bra remained. She left it for him to remove. He did. Christina felt conspicuous. The breeze was warm, but its sensation on her breasts caused more stiffening. Not arousal this time, but still a visible effect, she knew. She watched him reach out and softly take her right nipple between two gentle fingers. Now, arousal. He smiled.

"Very nice," he murmured sensually, and kissed her while softly stroking her nipple, then her breast. Then the other. This elicited from Christina her own murmur, one of approval. Lance caressed her. Then he fed her grapes again. And they drank once more. They talked quietly. Of what was around them. Avoiding the directness of what was to happen. Letting that impending thing simmer.

Minutes of silence then passed. Neither moved, other than to look. About. At each other. About again. Each other again. Lance broke this state but reaching out to the button of her shorts and deftly undoing it. Christina was suddenly aware that she was sporting a rather full bush. Marshall preferred her shaved, but sometimes she felt compelled to assert her sexual independence, and she had not shaved in several months. Trimmed and tended, yes. Shaved, no. But there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Stand up," he said. She did.

Lance slid down her shorts. Just her black panties remained. She shivered, not from the temperature but from the exposure. Then she stepped out of the panties, too. Relief, for she saw in his eyes pleasure at what he beheld, and she could tell it was not just the opportunity but that he liked the presentation.

"Lay back," Lance said. Again, she did, slightly parting her legs. He moved up to her, over her, and kissed her. He pressed against her and this time Christina could feel his hardness, his cock, through his shorts. She could feel her own receptivity within her. The wetness. Her swollen labial lips, ready to receive him. His hands, firm and gentle, stroked her arms as they kissed. Then he ran his fingers gently through her hair. About her neck. All over. His lips left hers, and they too went to her neck. She shivered in pleasure at this. Time seemed to blur as Lance attended to her. His hands. His mouth. His body, hovering, there, soon to join to her own. Christina ached for that. It seemed like forever until he made his way to her breasts, but it was a sublime eternity. Between his lips, each one. Soft. Sucking. Tugging. He looked her in the eyes and smiled even as his mouth worked. She smiled back. He could have gone on like that endlessly as far as she was concerned, and for a time he seemed to. Then he moved one. Her belly spasmed at the touch of his tongue. She giggled when he probed her belly-button. Then, lower. There he lingered for a time. Kissing. Licking. His breath hot. Then, finally, his tongue on her flesh proceeded down. Touching her pubic mound. An involuntary shudder. He let his breath flow all over her. And then, his tongue was inside of her. Christina gasped.

She had never been penetrated in this manner. It wasn't an oral caress at first, but his tongue slipped as deep into her as it could. When Lance brought it out, the pressure on her clit was wonderful. Then he did this again. He placed his hands on her thighs and held her in that manner in that firm and gentle way of his. And again he put his tongue into her and drew it out in a way that Christina knew she could not take much longer. She moaned and reached down and took his head in her hands.

"Come here," she whispered hoarsely.

He slid up to her and they were face to face. The aroma of her cunt entered her nostrils, and she loved it coming from his face, which looked at her questioningly.

"Not yet," she said, still a whisper but now more controlled. Then she kissed him and drank in her own taste on Lance's lips. She sensed the 'why?' in him.

"Because I want you in me when I cum," she said.

He stood. Christina sat up. The breeze blew caressingly about both of them. Voices drifted from the beach beyond the dunes. Both noticed. Neither cared.

She watched as Lance became naked. His cock was magnificent, she thought. Hard. Hard for her. Christina was still on her knees and he came to her, took her head in his hands, and guided her mouth to him. She happily took him therein. Making love to his cock. Feeling his body relax. She was content to suck. To go about conjuring that lovely burst into her mouth. But there was something she wanted more. When he soon began to fuck her mouth, she knew it was time. With a slide of her tongue off his cock, she looked up at him with all the coquettish sluttiness she could muster.

"I want you inside me," Christina purred.

He took her head again, putting it back to his cock. Fucking her mouth once more.

"I am inside of you," Lance said.

And she sucked him, but soon repeated the cessation. Then she lay back and spread her legs.

"I need you in my pussy," she whispered, amazed at the words coming from her own mouth. Christina could feel her swollen pussy lips, slightly parted. Ready. Welcoming. Then Lance was between her legs. Kissing her. She could feel his cock, against her thigh. Gently. Then pressing. As he moved with his deep kisses, his cock moved. Now it was against her pussy. She squirmed, maneuvering so as to take it, but it was not right. He was teasing her.

"Please make love to me," she said through his kiss, and it came out sounding like a beg. That was all right. If that's what it took, she would do it.

He didn't reach down. Didn't even look. He moved slightly, then back. Then Lance looked Christina in the eyes as he slowly moved forward, and she felt him enter her. It was as soft as can be. Very gentle. He saw the look on his face. Surprise. Delight. She knew she was tight. Every man she'd ever been with, except for Donnie when she was seventeen, and he'd been a virgin so he wouldn't have known otherwise, had commented on it. He didn't say anything. The compliment was in his eyes, whereas the words would have ever so slightly spoiled the mood.

Christina held her legs up in the air as Lance slowly moved in and out of her. She could feel his every breath. The response of his body. Every inch of his hard shaft filling her. It made her think of Marshall. Lance, in a place where only Marshall should go. To her surprise, this did not bother her. Rather, excitement.

He was now upright, and that changed the angle at which his cock entered her pussy. Christina moaned. He moved, very slowly. She was very ready, though she also wanted to prolong things a bit more. He ran his hands along her legs. Then, one hand holding her ankle, the other went down to slide along the place where wet pussy met hard cock. She moaned again, this one deep and primal. Lance smiled.

He now pushed into her deeper. Still slow, but not quite so much.

"You feel wonderful," he told her, and she shuddered. Then Christina stopped resisting her body. When she did, the surge came faster than she expected. If she wanted, she could put it off, but it wouldn't end as well. And she didn't want to. Not now.

"Oh, Lance..."