Outer Banks - Escape to Florida

Thank you for selecting my story to read. I'm Robin, a mature, bi woman. My stories are memoirs spiced with a kinky imagination. I am submissive by natural inclination in most relationships, sometimes very submissive in sex. If you like kinky mature Black women, I hope you will like my stories and comment on what you enjoyed and perhaps didn't.

My Outer Banks series is the story of my life with Marjorie, a new love. The most recent story in this series, 'Outer Banks -- Road Trip 4' was published in June of 2023. You will find this new story, 'Outer Banks -- Escape to Florida' more enjoyable I think if you read 'Outer Banks -- Road Trip 4' first.

Outer Banks -- Escape to Florida

After three weeks of talking trying to understand what happened, Marjorie and I were no closer to agreeing on how we could go forward with our changed relationship. She did not leave me, but I was discouraged when some evenings she would not return home after going out with Charles. He in turn seemed to show no interest in me. I decided for both of us. It was over.

I talked to my friend Nishi, and she suggested I visit for a while as the dust settles and Marjorie moves out.

As the fourth week begins, I'm in my car headed south to Nishi's home in Florida.

When I arrive in Venice I drive through my old neighborhood and by my old house. A short walk on the beach and as I leave, I see the sign. "For Sale -- by Owner" in front of the house I sold to that nice young couple only two years ago. In the Venice Marina Coffee Shop, I call Mary my now retired business partner, yes, the same woman whose family sold me the Outer Banks cottages. She is now, in retirement, a financial planner and money manager, my money manager. I ask her to inquire discreetly about my old house. I tell her I want it back if possible. We spend some time talking about my current situation with Marjorie and she promises to look into the house for me and make it happen if possible. Mary has my power of attorney and controls the Trust the Outer Banks cottages, and all my other property and investments are in. I tell her to offer more than they paid me if necessary. I want that house back!

I then call Stephanie, my Outer Banks property manager and while telling her as little as possible, I ask her to contract with someone to go into my cottage and remove all my personal things and put them in storage. There isn't much, but I give her a list. I ask her to wait one week and then change the locks on both cottages and prepare them for rental.

I then, without giving it the thought I should have, send a text to Marjorie telling her I will remain in Florida for a while and that I have instructed Stephanie to list both cottages available for rent starting at the beginning of next month.

As I leave the Marina and begin to drive to Nishi's I hear a bing from my phone, a message from Marjorie. She cannot call me; I have blocked her number from direct calls. The message is simple, "Rob don't do this. I love you. Give it a chance. Please call me. Talk to me. Please!"

I do not answer her text but as I drive, I realize that this is my fault. I can't change how I feel. I can't change or easily put aside my past. The memory of my deceased wife Beth and the many times she put a man, any man, and her need for his cock, before me is too real and an open wound that may never heal. When I saw Marjorie with Charles and even though I was naked in the same bed with them, I saw Beth "cheating" on me. I was not really there for either of them at that moment.

In a very similar way, years ago, I watched my pregnant best friend fucking my husband, now ex-husband, not realizing it was his baby she carried.

Yes, I understood that I needed time, time to understand why I felt this was different than just another threesome. Time to understand why I couldn't bear to have her love another, in the same way, she said she loved me.

I have known Nishi for a very long time, and she knows how my world has been rocked by all of this. It all happened so quickly. I think she understands and has told me that she always felt that I am a bi-sexual in sex but a Lesbian in love and that is more than ever starting to make sense to me. Her solution is, as expected; tea, long walks, silently holding hands, baths, Tai chi, and of course, sex.

When I arrive, at about 6:00 p.m., she is waiting, and I park my car under her house. Nishi lives on the beach just North of Venice, on the west coast of Florida. She helps me cover my car to protect it from blowing sand. All the while, we exchange meaningless chit-chat; how was the drive from Outer Banks, blah blah blah.

Upstairs on the deck overlooking the ocean, tea awaits. Tea with Nishi is a ceremony and a chance to talk. I have not seen her in a long time so there is much to catch up on forl both of us. As the sun begins to set, I have told her everything, I think, about my situation with Marjorie and Charles.

Nishi knows me. She knows I just need time and some help cleansing my mind so I can go home and begin again, perhaps with Marjorie, perhaps without her. She takes me by the hand and suggests she has made dinner, but we should walk the beach and experience the sunset before dinner.

She leads me back into her bedroom. Without asking and without a word, she begins removing my clothing. Her hands are warm, and she touches me sensually as she exposes my body. Her hands find my breasts, gently cupping them and then brushing my nipples with the backs of her fingers. Those same fingers between my legs touch my vagina and run up through my butt crack across my rim, to my waist.

Nishi reaches for and hands me a short white silk robe. It reaches mid-thigh and is cool and feels light on my shoulders. It feels sexy and right then I need to feel sexy. She looks at me and says, "Wear this tonight, I always wear it when I am troubled."

As we walk the beach we talk about happy times. She tells me she has a son and two granddaughters and how much joy they bring her. I did not know she had a child or grandchildren. I tell her about my adopted daughter Bailey and the beautiful granddaughter she has gifted me with. As we walk Nishi is holding my hand and now and then putting her arm around my waist. When she touches my waist, I am reminded that under this robe I am naked. She stops turns me toward her, smiles, and says, "I'm glad you chose to come here, Grandma." She kisses me gently and we turn and head back toward her home.

When we get back, I remember the last time I was here with her. Just as we did long ago, we stop at the outdoor shower under her house. Nishi steps into the shower from the changing area we are in, and I hear water flowing. When she returns, she removes my robe and hers and hangs them before we step into the shower. She has not changed really. Perhaps a few more pounds but the same fit beautiful Nishi.

I'm hoping to be required to make no decisions, even the smallest, and she does not disappoint me. The shower is easily large enough for two or more with a teak bench along one side and a teak floor with spaces between the boards to drain the water to the sand beneath us. She motions for me to sit and kneels at my feet. We are both soaked through, and she lifts one on my feet and washes it and my calf and thigh above with her hands always stopping short of my center, my vagina. I can see that she is looking at it and as she washes my other foot and leg, I think I see her tongue sliding along her lips. I wish.

With my feet and lower legs on her shoulders and my knees spread wide she washes my inner thighs and vagina. She would tell me later how every woman she has been with has a different but equally complex and beautiful vagina. She starts by very., gently washing the skin on both sides that leads to my thighs and then begins to unfold and wash the layers of labia and the area surrounding my clit. I've always thought that my vagina was too big, too thick, too many layers of labia but Nishi with her magic fingers is making me wish for more for her to discover. She carefully washes the hood that covers my clit and once exposed, very gently, the pearl of my clit itself.

She smiles and I can see she knows I am close to having an orgasm, so she pushes me over the edge with just a gentle touch on my clit, just one time. I look at her and return that smile. All this time in the shower we have not spoken. Nishi takes my foot off her shoulder and washes it again running her fingers and a natural sponge between my toes. Washing each toe individually and kissing parts of my foot and lower leg randomly. I had never before experienced such erotic senses in my feet and calves. Nishi confirms again what I always knew, she has a much more all-encompassing view of sex than other women I have known. As the water from the overhead waterfall shower heads falls on us, she is kissing and massaging my calves and feet. She looks at me, smiles, and lowers her head to my foot and her kiss on my foot becomes more long-lasting and then my toes are in her mouth. It's difficult to describe sex with Nishi where every body part is a sex organ and nothing, no act, is off limits.

Nishi takes my hand and gestures for me to stand and turn away from her. She then pushes my upper body forward and with her hands on my inner thighs causes me to spread my legs slightly.

Her hands spread my butt cheeks and with the sponge again she is washing me there. She inserts a soapy finger into my butt and strokes me gently for a moment and then washes me again. My knees are weak, and I lean forward with my hands on the shower bench as she rims me repeatedly and then as she reaches under from behind and cups my vagina and my clit another soft orgasm says hello.

Nishi moves to wash my upper body with all the same erotic gestures and feelings.

It's my turn and I'm sure I only capture half the sensuality she did as I wash her. I can see from her smile and how her leg shakes, that she has a gentle orgasm when I push my limits and lick her vagina and eventually suck her toes and rim her.

After we wash our hair, we towel and dry each other and move up the stairs into her house for dinner. During the entire time in the shower, not a word was spoken by either of us. Dinner is a simple chicken rice dish eaten sitting naked on the outdoor deck with towels covering our still-wet hair. During dinner, we talk about grandchildren and Nishi's restaurants and the challenges of her businesses surviving the Covid pandemic.

After dinner, we dry and brush each other's hair. When I was last with Nishi her hair was very long, almost below her waist. Now it is shorter, only to her shoulders but she still wears it up.

When I ask, she quietly mentions that she donated her hair to make a wig for a friend being treated for cancer. I like and respect Nishi even more.

We both dress in similar without underwear light cotton robes and go back out onto her deck with a glass of wine. Soft Jazz is coming from the living room. A family with young children is playing on the moonlit beach below us and the sound of their laughter makes me happy. As I sit and watch them and the moon glow on the waves in the distance, I become aware that Nishi is holding my hand. It feels natural and right that this beautiful, sensual, Asian woman is perhaps without knowing it healing me.

After a while Nishi stands and signals her intent by simply looking inside in the direction of her bedroom. I understand it's time for bed and I follow her in. Again, in the bedroom, not a word is said or expected. Nishi's bed is not a bed at all but a thick large mat (mattress) on the floor covered in silk sheets, white cotton blankets, and down pillows. Nishi stands in front of me and pulls my top open and it falls to the floor. "She then removes her own and puts her arms around me pulling me into her. I feel the firmness and warmth of her breasts pressing mine. It feels right. Her hands are on my butt cheeks pulling my hips into hers as we kiss and collapse onto her bed in each other's arms.

There is no urgency, no need to prove anything. Her hands, on each side of my face, move down and caress and fondle my breasts and then further down to my hips and thighs. Her breasts are larger and softer than I remember. I kiss them and gently suck one of her small 'nut brown' nipples but just for a moment. One of her legs finds its way between mine and up to touch my vagina. I encourage her with my hands on her thigh pulling her into me. After only a moment or two, she shifts position, and our vaginas meet. I feel a wave building, deep down. I want so much to please her that my hips are pushing back with every motion, every thrust. The stimulation of my clit is taking me to the edge very quickly, much more quickly than I anticipated. I can see she is not ready, but she somehow knows I am, "cum for me baby, let go, let me please you." I can feel my thighs shake as the orgasm sweeps me over the edge. As I tremble in the somewhat awkward position we are in, she falls onto me. I'm in her arms and she is covering my face with kisses.

After a time, lying side by side, Nishi had in mind that I should tell her about Charles, and perhaps by doing so, at least begin to let go of Charles.

I tell her that I have thought about this a lot and today I think of my life knowing Charles in three phases leading to today.

The first was of course when I met him, and we became lovers.

The second was when having lived separate lives for many years, we reconnected and almost married.

The third was still a few years later when I foolishly introduced him to Marjorie. Leading us to today.

~~

More than twenty years ago, I was given an opportunity to buy two small cottages, cabins really, on the beach in the Outer Banks area of North Carolina. Six cabins that were part of a much larger estate became available from my business partner Mary's family estate and I bought two. Mary who had inherited the property when her mom died sold the larger estate home and land to a local developer. My two cottages are rented through a local property management company and 'Blue Heron,' my favorite of the two, is my escape destination when it is not rented, and I need it.

That was when I was first introduced to Charles by Mary. Charles, a retired Marine, who was well-known in the area as an honest and capable contractor, helped me make the cabins livable. The cabins had fallen into some disrepair as the owners aged and neglected the estate outbuildings. The pre-purchase inspection report should have been a red flag warning but without even seeing the actual buildings I bought them. After I owned them for several weeks, when I finally went to see them, I was discouraged. Calling them cottages was a stretch. They were barely four walls on a concrete slab foundation with electricity and a bathroom but no insulation, heat, or air conditioning.

In our first meeting, Charles reassured me that the property was a great investment and could be updated and upgraded slowly over time. We sat in one little cabin and made a prioritized list of what needed to be done and the associated cost. His job was to get the job done. My job was to raise the money.

In those cabin meetings, I came to know and trust Charles. At that time, Charles was married and had one infant daughter. I was comfortable with him and trusted him from the moment we started working together.

In the first year, we elevated the buildings off the slab foundations onto pilings and installed new heating, ventilation, and air conditioning systems. We did everything intending to make the cottages rentable. I spent virtually every weekend working with Charles and his crew to improve them.

It was on one of those weekends that our relationship changed. I was working a sixty-hour week at the office and working on the cabins on weekends. Charles and I were building a wall to separate the bedroom from the main living area. The crew had left for the day, and I was determined to hang a door to the bedroom and give me a place to sleep with some privacy. I was exhausted and dropped a screwdriver. It slid between a space in the floor and onto the cement slab under the house. As I stared at it, Charles laughed and suggested we call it a day.

It was nothing, a tool just out of reach, and yet it was suddenly everything, everything that could go wrong. I started to cry and then Charles was holding me, reassuring me, and then kissing me. The bedroom didn't have a door, but it had a bed, and we were soon on it. In what seemed like only an instant he was in me, and my legs wrapped around him encouraged each thrust.

Two days later at the end of a long sweaty day, I pushed him into the same bedroom. When I kissed him, he did not really return my kiss but looked at me and held me an arm's length away. He said, "Robin, we made a mistake, you know I can't promise you anything. I can't give you the future you want."

He was being honest, but I never thought he would leave his wife for me. I didn't want to hurt her or their baby. I took his hands from my arms and stepped closer, "Charles, I'm not asking for a life with you. I'm asking only for time with you in this room where no one can see us, where no one has to know, where we can fill a need, a need you know we both have."

And so, began a relationship that would last for two years, could lead nowhere but stolen hours naked in each other's arms in that tiny bedroom.

I met Charles just months after my marriage ended badly. He was not at all like my ex-husband. Charles is physically every woman's dream. He is tall, very muscular, and confident. He has a great sense of humor and is handsome. I've never been one to subscribe to the theory that size matters, but I do believe that Charles, from the first time I saw him naked, and we made love was the perfect size for me. His gift was not in the length of his penis but in its thickness, which stretched me and contacted my clit with every stroke. Sex with Charles was very different than with other men I had known. I could say he was demanding but it was more than that. He was physically rough, and I always felt I was in some imaginary danger with him. There was some incredibly exciting animal attraction, almost as though I was in danger that he could and might at any moment hurt me. Nishi, there are no words that can describe the orgasms that came from that feeling of helplessness and total surrender.

Our "Friends with benefits" relationship faded over time but lasted until I met Beth.

~~

Beth was gone and so was Charles' wife when I saw him again some years later.

After years of ninety-hour work weeks with little or no time off, my partners and I were looking to sell our business. Two days before, we finished negotiating the sale ending with a very attractive offer of cash, a three-year management contract, and a small percentage of future profits for each of us. An offer we felt we could not refuse would leave the three of us wealthy. We had thirty days to accept or turn down the offer. Janet and Mary, my partners and I, agreed informally to sell but also to not sign anything for thirty days. Just time to cool down and think it through.

It had been almost two years since I visited, but I was finally headed back to my favorite place, the Outer Banks of North Carolina for three of the four weeks until decision day. I called Stephanie at the property management company I use, to block out the weeks I needed and be sure the cabin was not rented. She told me that both cabins were empty because the bathroom and gas log fireplace upgrades, I had requested were still underway but would be complete before I arrived. I asked if Charles was still their contractor of choice, and she told me he was.

I arrived at the cottage at 3:00 p.m. It smelled of fresh-baked cookies, Charles had a thing for fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. I opened the oven and there they were, a cookie sheet of them, still warm with three missing. On the kitchen counter are flowers and a note. The flowers are not fancy, a grocery store bouquet but right then they were the most beautiful flowers in the world. Nishi, this was a surprise because I had not seen or spoken to Charles in years.