Love Letters in the Sand

"I don't care, but whatever you're going to do, do it quick! Dosomething, even if it's wrong," I panted with irritation.

He chuckled under his breath and tapped the side of my thigh. "Roll over!" he demanded with glee.

"Doggie?" I asked with trepidation while eyeing the size of his penis with doubt.

"Yes, doggie," he snorted at me.

"I don't know, Michael..." I began a hesitant protest.

"You said 'do something even if it's wrong'. Well, that's something," he grinned. "Come on, I'll be careful. Pirate's promise!" he said drawing the sign of a cross over his heart.

I reluctantly rolled onto my knees and tucked the pillow under my neck and chest. "If you hurt me, mister, you'll never plunder for this treasure again. I promiseyou that!" I retorted over my shoulder.

He positioned himself behind me and began to rub his cock back and forth between the lips of my pussy. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I had almost succeeded when I felt him slide the first inch or so inside me. My head came up and I gasped aloud.

His hands immediately began to stroke the small of my back. "Easy! Calm down, Cindy. I'm not going to hurt you," he coaxed in a low voice. He waited for several minutes while still stroking my lower back and hips until he felt me begin to relax again. He didn't move at all during that time and slowly, he gained my trust.

When he knew the time was right, he slid one hand under me and began kneading my clit with his fingers. I sighed and he began to move with slight strokes inside of me at the same time. The moment he knew I was enjoying what he was doing again, he increased the length of his inward thrusts.

"Come on, baby... fuck me back. Move with me," he urged in the same low, comforting tone. I gradually began to meet his hips half-way with my own. After a few more minutes, I realized I was able to handle most of him with no problem. His patience was rewarded with my renewed interest. He increased the pressure of his fingers on my clit and I began to pant with excitement.

The feeling of his testicles brushing against the lips of my cunt, and his fingers on my clit were heavenly. The sound of his voice and his flesh slapping against my own drowned out the music coming from the living room. I could smell his scent and taste him on my tongue. All five senses wove a cocoon of pleasure around us.

My cervix suddenly relaxed and opened to him. He must have felt it too, because he groaned and I could feel him expand in size to make up the difference. I didn't want the feeling to end too quickly.

"Michael, no..." I tried to warn him too late. My muscles constricted and squeezed tightly around his cock. I gripped the pillow and buried my face in it to muffle the sound of my voice.

"Yes... fuck... Oh, fuck, that feels good!" he growled as his own orgasm was wrapped inside mine. The amount of semen he emptied inside me overflowed and spilled onto the sheets. He never attempted to withdraw from me, even when his own pleasure abated.

Michael had previous experience with fucking me. He stopped massaging my clit right away, but he held his position, sheathed inside me, for quite some time before he felt me begin to loosen my internal grip on his cock. Only then, did he wrap his arms around me and roll onto his back with me half lying on top of him.

He didn't even attempt to talk to me for another half-hour. He lay there quietly petting my hair and stroking my lower stomach with his fingertips. He pressed his lips to my temple and kissed me lightly. I dozed off to sleep in his arms.

*****

Michael moved in with me for the entire week I was there. I'm sure, as a full-time resident, he wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about fishing, swimming, and walking on the beach as I was, but he indulged my whims just the same. In the early mornings, we shared coffee and talked until daylight when we went for a swim and a walk along the beach. We played a lot in the surf and we brought back a portion of our youth in doing those things.

In the heat of the afternoons, he serenaded me with his expert musical skills while we lazed around having cocktails and spending quiet time together. After dark, we spent every moment renewing and exploring our sexual relationship.

The day before I was to leave, I surprised him with a change of our usual routine. I asked him to take me for a drive and he readily agreed. I knew of a place from my childhood that was in the middle of a sparsely populated area. It was a tiny shack that made mostly fast-foods, but they had one thing on the menu that even after all those years was memorable; that was fresh peach soft-serve ice cream. On a hot afternoon, it was pure bliss, and being from Georgia, who would appreciate it more than Michael?

I didn't tell him where we were going, or for what reason. When we arrived, the establishment was minutes from closing for the day. Perfect timing, actually. I ordered two large cones and the waitress let me know they were about to lock up and leave. I told her we would probably just sit in the truck to enjoy our cones before we headed back home. She magnanimously agreed.

She left us parked under the shade of a gigantic moss-covered live oak with the gulf breeze blowing through the cab of the truck. The ice cream was melting rapidly in the heat.

"This is fucking delicious!" Michael proclaimed as he hurried to lick the dripping cream before it ran down the cone. "How the hell do you know about all these little out of the way places?"

"I grew up down here in the summers, remember?" I prompted. I eyed his bare chest and an idea began to form in my mind. He was still rattling away about how ripe and sweet the peaches they used were. I thoughtfully dipped my fingers in the top of my own mountain of ice cream and nonchalantly reached over and smeared a large dollop on one of his nipples.

Whatever he was saying was cut short by the gasp of utter shock at the icy sensation. He was totally silent as we watched the cream melt and run down his chest to the top of his jean shorts. I scooted across the seat and began to lick the mess from his skin while holding the rest of my cone in one hand.

He watched with interest as I bathed him with my tongue, and he even managed to keep his own from dripping in my hair while I did so. I scooted back to my side of the truck suppressing a giggle.

He didn't say a word when he reached over and pulled the tie to my bathing suit top from behind my neck. He returned the favor by smearing twice as much on my tits as I had his. By the time he licked them clean, there was peach ice cream running down our elbows.

I leaned over and fumbled with the button at the waist of his shorts. He grabbed my hand to try to stop me, but I think he let me win that battle because a moment later, I had his cock in my hand and I rolled the ice cream cone around the head of it before I lowered my own to lick him clean again.

The moment I let him slip from my lips, he pounced on top of me, hemming me against the door on my side of the cab and yanking down my bathing suit bottoms in a scuffle. I shrieked with laughter as he turned the entire cone upside down on my mound and it began running onto the seat beneath me. I stopped struggling long enough for him to lick some of the mess from between my legs.

"Well, it's going to be a hot, sticky ride home," he commented while lapping at the dribbling mess that was my melting pussy. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he frowned at the empty shell of a sugar cone in his hand.

I took it from him and tossed them both out the window behind my head. "Feed them to the gulls," I said as he dipped his tongue back inside my pussy. "Let's go home, Michael. It's our last night together and I want to spend it at home with you."

"You could always stay, you know," he said quietly as we adjusted our clothing appropriately and he cranked the truck to head home again.

I shook my head and looked out the window blinking back bitter-sweet tears. "I always thought I would end up here someday, but I can't stay, Michael. I have to go back."

He nodded in acknowledgement and we made the rest of the return trip home in silence. Once there, we showered and ate a light dinner. We spent the rest of the night making love.

When I awoke the next morning, Michael was gone. In place of him, on the pillow next to me, was a fresh, red rose and a note that said, 'There are two times I will always remember; the time I spent with you and the time I spent without you. 'Love is so short, forgetting so long'. I love you. Michael.'