Love Letters in the Sand

"I caught a few glimpses of you walking through the house naked. What man wouldn't be aroused by the sight of a beautiful, naked woman? There's nothing unnatural about that," he objected.

"But...what the hellis your name anyway? I'm not going to keep calling you 'Doc'. Not afterthis. I don't think knowing your name is too much to ask," I demanded.

"It's Michael," he readily replied.

"Michael. Okay, Michael...but, you went beyond that. You watched me...touching myself," I said in a near whisper.

"Yes, and do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you do? From the first time, I was completely addicted; I couldn't help myself. You were all I could think about, dream about," he said quietly. "But, the dream ended last night when I saw you falling apart after you got that call. I knew I had to do something to try to help you. That's why I came down to the beach looking for you.

"You're not a dream anymore. You're real and I'm real; and here we are. Just the two of us," he concluded. "Where are you going?" he asked when I suddenly stood up.

"To get fresh coffee. This is cold now," I said without looking at him. He sat back on the sofa as I stepped over his feet and carried both cups to the kitchen to replenish them. I returned a few moments later and handed him one cup before stepping over his feet again and reseating myself beside him.

"Are you still pissed off?" he asked as he sipped the warm coffee.

"Of course, I'm still pissed off!" I snapped a little too harshly. "I'm not a circus sideshow act, Michael. You took my privacy from me without my knowledge," I accused in a milder tone. "You're a voyeur, Michael. That's what voyeurs do."

"I could argue that you gave away your right to privacy when you paraded around here naked with the curtains open," he said with a frown. "Anyone could have seen you. It just happened to be me."

"Gave away?Paraded around? Michael, your point might be well taken, but your choice of words leaves a lot to be desired."

"That's a bit of the pot calling the kettle black. You're calling me a 'voyeur' like it's some filthy word. I like to look at you. What the hell is wrong with that?" he snapped back sullenly.

"Because you do it without my knowledge or consent," I tried again to make him see my point.

"And, if I had your consent...there'd be nothing wrong with it as far as you are concerned?" he asked.

"In principle, that's right, I suppose," I admitted. "But, wouldn't that take the element of excitement out of it for you? I mean, isn't mynot knowing what gives you that thrill?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. I don't think it is. I don't have all the answers, Cindy, but the one thing I do know is that I just enjoy looking at you, watching you. I see nothing wrong with it, and if giving me your consent means you see nothing wrong with it either...then, I'm asking you to allow me that pleasure without condemning me because it's what I like to do."

I sipped my coffee and gave his words some consideration. It was a simple matter really. I did know he was watching me from the beginning. It wasn't his fault that I left the curtains open, or that I slept nude on the sofa in plain view of the world. Maybe it was more my responsibility than his. And, it was flattering that he found me a fascinating subject to watch. If it gave him pleasure, who was it hurting?

"Alright, Michael. I see your point and I accept that there is no harm in what you did. As long as that isn't all there is to our relationship, then I can live with it."

His face broke into a soft smile. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. I've been trying all day to think of how I could repay you for what you did this morning."

"Repay me?" I asked with a frown. "If you're talking about the blow-job, it wasn't a loan. You can keep it," I shrugged.

He broke into laughter. "You're sure?" he teased. "Because I had a few things in mind to try..."

"Well, if you were toinsist on repaying me, we could work out some form of installment plan, I suppose," I said as I threw one leg over his lap and casually locked my arms around his neck.

"I'm glad you're not mad anymore," he said tilting his head back to look at me.

"I can be a very forgiving person, given the right incentive." I leaned forward and kissed him.

"Are we negotiating a repayment plan? Because if we are, I'd like to know the current interest rate," he said when I stopped kissing him.

I began unbuttoning his shirt. "I'd say the current interest rate is very high and being compounded daily. You may have to work twice as many hours just to keep up with the interest."

"Are there any penalties I should know about?" he asked squinting suspiciously at me.

"Only for early withdrawals," I whispered as I kissed him softly again. He parted his lips and offered his tongue to mine. I could feel him growing hard where my pussy came in contact with his jeans. It made me moan quietly when his hands grasped my hips and pulled me tightly against him.

He broke off the kiss and placed an arm at my back to support me as he leaned forward and took another berry from the dish. He held it to my lips and ordered, "Bite!" I nipped the tip of the berry and juice flowed from it. He sat back again and brushed the fruit over my lips. He trailed it down my chin, my neck and then to my breasts.

He watched intently as it stained my nipples bright red and he kissed me again, using his tongue to taste the sticky dried residue left behind. He slid me off his lap just as I managed to undo the last of the buttons on his shirt and it fell open.

"Take it off. I'll never get the stains out of it if you don't," I warned placing one hand against his chest to prevent him from coming in contact with me until he removed the white shirt. He placed the fruit between his teeth as he slipped the shirt off his shoulders and tossed it to the end of the couch. He resumed his play with the strawberry on my skin.

By the time he played his way down my stomach and between my thighs, the berry was soft and bruised. He placed it against my clit and used his palm to press it until the last of its juice trickled along the slit between the lips of my cunt. He licked it before it could dry and turn sticky, and I felt my own juices suddenly began to flow.

"You like strawberries," he said with a devilish smile of pleasure. I wasn't sure if it was meant to be a question or a statement of fact, but I agreed.

"Uh-huh...they're rapidly becoming my favorite fruit," I breathed lazily as I enjoyed the feel of his tongue slipping between my inner lips.

He seemed aware of the discomfort of our position on the couch. There was not enough room for him to stretch out between my legs and I was cramped up against the side arm, unable to move at all.

"Would you like to take this mess to the bedroom?" he asked.

"I'm right behind you. I'll get us something to drink and be right there."

*****

Spending that summer with Michael as my companion had meant something special to me. We had both discovered interesting things about ourselves and one another. Seeing him again after sixteen years was a shock; a pleasant one, but still a shock.

I spent the morning drowning a few minnows and I finally managed to snag one decent sized red snapper. I took it home, cleaned and fileted it, and put it in a batter to soak for the rest of the day while I ran errands and prepared a nice dinner for two. I was lighting the torches on the deck when a not-so-new pick-up truck pulled into my driveway and Michael stepped out.

"I see you found me," I called as he trudged up the steps carrying the familiar guitar. "And right on time!"

"I feel like I've done this more than once," he grinned as he set the case in one of the chairs.

"Sit down. Pour us both a drink. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes," I informed him as I picked up some clutter around the deck.

"I'm glad to see some things never change. You're still not wearing panties," he muttered under his breath as I bent over to retrieve an article of debris. "You look great!"

"Nice of you to notice," I teased as I sat down in a chair beside him. He poured from the pitcher and slid a drink in front of me.

For a few minutes, we talked about the old times, and through dinner, the conversation was spent bringing one another up-to-date on our current lives.

"Yeah, after that summer, I just couldn't adjust when I went back to my old life," he revealed shaking his head. "I'd made a few good investments, and had a little cushion in my pockets, so I moved down here. I bought a boat and invested with Joe in the bait shop," he shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "I've even run into your uncle a few times over the years."

As the sun sank over the western horizon, I studied him in the dusky light. He looked nearly the same as he had the first night we met. His hair was captured in elastic ties, but I had an idea it wasn't going to stay that way for very long.

"I'm afraid I've turned into an old beach-bum," he chuckled at me. "Livin' the good life in the tropics of good ol' FLA," he laughed with his blue eyes twinkling.

"That's 'Parrot-head', not a 'beach-bum," I scolded with a frown. "Oh, have I got something for you!" I laughed as I stood up and excused myself for a moment. I ventured inside and turned on the portable stereo system. A moment later music came on. "Just for you," I giggled as I stepped back through the doors and onto the deck. The sound of Jimmy Buffet's 'A Pirate Looks at Forty' filled the air.

He threw back his head and laughed. "You nailed that one, only I think you're about a decade too late," he teased with a wink as he turned up his glass.

"Do you still go for younger women?" I teased.

He nodded. "Oh, yeah. Look at you, you're living proof," he said as he refilled our glasses. "So, where did the gulf stream carry you?" he asked with interest.

I shrugged. "Oh, I spent a few years practicing my voo-doo down south, then raising a family out west. Did a lot of time slinging drinks before I went into business management."

"What are you doing now? What brought you here this time?" he asked.

"I heard you calling me," I teased. "A voice on the wind...I just headed towards the southern cross and here I am."

"You used to tell me you were a gypsy fortuneteller. I'm beginning to believe it. Not a day goes by I don't think of you," he said shaking his head. "You didn't recognize me today," he accused.

"Oh, but I did. It's just that you were out of element here. I wasn't expecting to see you here of all places. I recognized you, especially when you called me that god-awful nickname you gave me," I laughed.

"What? Fish-bait?" he chuckled. "I've got news for you...you're always going to be 'fish-bait' to me."

"Well, at least I'm not 'jail-bait' anymore," I sniffed at him.

"No. You definitely aren't that. You're all grown up now!" he said eyeing me with interest.

"I better do these dishes real quick," I said suddenly standing and stacking the plates in one hand.

He came to his feet as well. "This time, you're going to let me help you," he said firmly as he filled his hands and followed me inside. We laughed and chatted as we worked side by side.

"I'm disappointed in you, Michael," I said as I rinsed the last dish and wiped my hands dry on a towel.

He gave me a wary look. "Why is that?"

"Because you haven't even kissed me 'hello' yet," I teased as I turned to face him with my hands on my hips.

He instantly pulled me into his arms and looked down into my eyes before he bent his head and parted my lips with his tongue. It was like moving backwards through time. We both felt younger when it ended.

"How long can you stay?" I asked looking up at him.

"How long will you be here?" he countered.

"I'm not sure. A week, maybe?"

His expression turned dark. "That's all? A week? Why?"

"I'm not as young and footloose as I used to be, Michael. I have things to do now. Obligations to meet."

He sighed and dropped his arms. "I know all about those obligations, Cindy. They'll kill you if you let them."

"So, can you stay with me while I'm here?" I asked.

"Wild horses couldn't keep me from it," he said with a smile. "Joe will cover the shop for me."

"Let me get our drinks. I have a surprise for you," I said as I stepped out on the deck to bring the last of the pitcher and our glasses inside.

"What's the surprise?" he asked as I placed a fresh drink in his hand.

I patted the back of a chair. "Have a seat. Let me just put on some music and I'll show you."

He looked a little uneasy as he settled into a chair facing the sofa. I didn't bother to close the drapes after I turned on more music. I kind of figured he'd like it better if I didn't. I set my drink on the coffee table, deliberately bending over in front of him to get his attention. I heard him clear his throat behind me and it made me smile a little. I was certain he'd gotten a glimpse of the stockings and garters I had on.

I took a precarious seat on the arm of the couch and propped one foot on the edge of the coffee table before I ran my hands up my leg as if I was smoothing the wrinkles from my stocking. I could tell he was beginning to get the idea when he took a big swallow of his drink and settled comfortably back in the oversized chair to watch.

I let my shoe drop from the other foot before I placed it on the edge of the couch seat. It left my knees slightly spread, but only enough to give him a hint of what was underneath the hem of my skirt. I glanced at him and saw he was beginning to smile.

"I always did like surprises," he murmured as his smile grew and he folded his hands together over his lap. I unbuttoned the bodice at the back of my neck and let it fall, revealing both breasts at one time while I deliberately ran my hands under my hair and stretched.

His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward as I cradled both tits in the palms of my hands and rolled my nipples between my fingers. They stiffened before I stood up and let the dress fall to the floor.

His eyes widened and he both gasped and choked out, "No, fuck you didn't!" He was on the edge of his seat straining to get a closer look.

"You like?" I teased as I braced myself with one hand and took my seat on the arm of the couch again. This time, I made sure to open my knees wide enough he could clearly see my completely shaved pussy.

He was sputtering an incoherent response when I licked my finger and ran a long nail from the bottom of my slit to my clitoris. I could hear him panting fast and hard from several feet away.

I retraced the path downward to my opening and dipped one finger inside. After a moment, I slowly withdrew it and began massaging my clit again. I closed my eyes and added a small moan or two for effect. He sprang to his feet and covered the distance between in two long strides, already unzipping the fly of his jeans before he made it to me. I was laughing merrily as he presented his erection to my waiting lips.

"You'resuch a fucking tease," he breathed as I took him between my lips while still smiling. His hands went to my hair and he sucked in his breath and closed his eyes as I slowly curled my tongue around the crown of his cock.

He thrust the entire length of his penis to the back of my throat and growled, "There are people still at the pool. They're probably watching you playing with yourself and sucking my dick as we speak." I was sure he wasn't as much scolding me as he was reminding himself of the possibility.

I guided him from my mouth long enough to answer, "Probably," before I massaged his cock from root to tip with my hand and slapped it playfully against my extended tongue.

"Don't you dare make me cum yet," he snarled down at me. "I've waited sixteen years for the chance to fuck you again; you're not going to blow the opportunity now," he warned.

"Huh...I thought you liked it when I blow you," I mocked with devilment dancing in my eyes. I loved teasing Michael. He was usually solemn and quiet, but when he was excited, he became very adventurous and vocal.

His facial expressions always reflected his passion and when he was completely aroused, his cock stood as solid as the Eiffel Tower. That hadn't changed with time.

"You're so fucking hard," I breathed my admiration against his stiff rod. I released my hold on him and gently cupped my hands under his sac while I bathed each testicle with a soft lick of my tongue. The tenseness of his muscles went slack.

"God, I always loved how you do that," he murmured lazily with his fingers still tangled in my hair.

I released him and tugged the tail of his shirt free from his jeans. I slid my hands up his torso to his chest. "Why don't you take off your clothes and get comfortable?" I suggested. "Pretend you're going to stay a while."

"I'll stay as long as you'll let me, but I'm not the exhibitionist you are," he frowned down at me.

"Then, lock the door and let's go to bed," I offered instead. He didn't bother to close the drapes, but he did lock the door and followed me to the bedroom. Once we were in the bedroom, I followed our usual ritual of turning down the comforter and sheets while he undressed. We met in the center of the bed a few minutes later.

I was about to remove my garter belt and stockings when he made the request I leave them on.

"I've always loved a woman in lacy lingerie. I haven't run across many who wear things like that," he said as he ran a hand up my calf to my thigh. He was lying on his side simply looking at me with a fire in his eyes. He hadn't bothered to turn off the bedside light and I knew there was a reason he deliberately neglected that chore. His gaze was focused on my shaved mound.

"You never said, do you like your surprise or not?" I taunted him again.

"It's fucking hot," he answered quickly. "I've never met a woman who shaves. I've seen pictures in magazines and girls in movies, but never a real woman who does," he said shaking his head in awe. "Can I...touch it?" he asked tentatively.

"I'll be mad if you don't," I giggled.

He leaned closer and gently ran his fingertips between my thighs. His eyes got big and he looked completely surprised.

"My God, it's so fucking soft!" he exclaimed. "I never realized just how soft a woman's cunt is before now. It feels like velvet."

I nodded at him. "That's the way a man's penis feels to a woman when she touches it."

"Really?" he asked with a look of doubt. I nodded again. "That's crazy! It's so... fucking... sexy," he reaffirmed as he ran his hand over it a second time. "I have to use my tongue on you now, just to see how it feels."

"Well, never let it be said I failed to feed a hungry man," I giggled at him.

He was grinning when he rolled to his knees and dragged a pillow down the bed to place under my hips. He spread my thighs with his hands and stretched-out between them. He ran his tongue lightly over the lips of my pussy and made a small smacking noise with his lips.

"You taste like...coconut!" he said with surprise.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot to warn you. I use massage oil when I shave to keep from getting razor-burn," I said.

"Don't apologize. It just surprised me a little. It tastes nice, sweet." He used his fingers to spread me open before he dipped his tongue inside the crevice of flesh. I moaned softly. Michael had a skilled tongue. It was one of the things I always appreciated the most about him.

He spent several long minutes exploring my entire cunt with a combination of his fingers and his tongue. I showed my gratitude by coating both his pillow-case and his face with slippery feminine nectar in return.

I was about two breaths from a quick orgasm when he raised his head and asked, "Do you want to come with my tongue or when I fuck you? Lady's choice."