Sand

She was left there in the dark, half-naked against a tree, changed. It wasn't a rape, but it wasn't love. It was something in between.

And the next summer had been the surfer, the boy with the blonde hair, and as he enthusiastically fucked her in the beach house she realized it wasn't another man she wanted--or even that first man--and while the boy was taking his pleasure out on her and her body responded to it, she knew it was this way she needed. She needed to be used.

So when Antonio caught her, her relief was that this phase might be over--that he would keep her sensible again. That being caught would take away the power of the need.

And when he told her it was over--her world broke. She needed him and she needed this... whatever this was. And she knew it was wrong and she knew she couldn't have both. And he exposed her shame and desires and he rebuffed her like a tramp.

And when he shoved her to the ground, she let her anger and frustration take her and all she wanted to do was hurt him. To make that granite face twist in anguish or sadness. Anything.

And when the lamp found its way into her hand and her hand found its way into an arc and the lamp exploded over Antonio's head... she felt out of control. And backed away slowly as her husband knelt in the sand, blood running black under the moonlight down his white shirt.

. . .. ... .....

Antonio staggered to his feet to see Maria backing away from him. She looked confused and afraid, one hand holding onto the towel around her chest and barely covering the rest of her, the other at her mouth in surprise.

He saw only a red-tinted world as his fury was unleashed.

He strode up to her; Maria's face a combination of disbelief and uncertainty as she started moving away from him more quickly. He flared his hand back, as though reaching widely for his wallet and let his come crashing back forward, the force of the slap so strong that she didn't exactly crumple beneath it so much as lose her footing entirely.

She rolled into the sand as Antonio came down upon her.

. . .. ... .....

The adrenaline rushed in her head as she hit the ground. Her legs kicked and arms flailed and she felt herself strike him weakly and glancingly over and over as he fell on top of her and twisted a hand deep into her hair.

"Get off of me, you--!", she started to scream, but that hand came down again--his face unmoving--and lit the left side of her face on fire.

"You bas-!!" she started again, as tears came, and the hand punished her just as quickly.

"Ssss-sto--stop, ple--!", again her head rocked to the side as he slapped her, this time knocking the breath out of her. She felt warm and angered and scared as he looked uncaringly into her eyes.

They stared at each other for a moment. And two. And another. And Maria, unflinchingly, her heart beating and fear punishing her as much as his hand, moved a soft finger to her towel and pulled it aside. She lay there under him, naked and wanting. Her chest heaving, her breathing ragged, her face red, and unspeakingly she begged for him.

Antonio looked down at her. She wondered if he could read her mind, if she could make him want her. He looked her up and down, inexpressively, and she felt unsure and insecure before him. She moved to cover herself a bit, and he moved his hand to her face.

He caressed the red cheek and she felt like crying, she felt loved. She felt silly and wrong and before she could say "I love you", he ran his hand down her jaw line, and over her neck, and pushed her further down into the sand.

Her eyes went open, wide and terrified. She could still breathe, but she could do little else! His expression changed not a bit as he held her down with his one hand, his other moving to his belt and unfastening it. He stripped it off of him in one motion and wrapped it roughly around her neck.

Maria began kicking back at him, flailing at him in the sand and in the breeze, gasping on occasion and pushing at him. Antonio tightened the belt, grabbed her by the hair and jerked her cleanly and quickly forward and over again until she lay there in the sand--face down and half-choked by the leather collar he had put on her.

He tugged roughly back on it and she arched up out of the beach--sand clinging to her hair and down her chest, her sweat and the towel half-sticking to her. She bucked and struggled as he grabbed first one wrist and then another, pulled them behind her so far she felt as though he'd break her. The end of the belt came around one wrist and then the other and her nipples barely touched the sand beneath her as she felt craned back.

She felt hands roughly work over her shoulders, and down her front--gripping and kneading her breasts as she felt Antonio's cock harden through his slacks against her thigh. Through the roughness and uncertainty, she hadn't thought of being aroused, but the moment she felt him lengthen against her and the sand scratch her tits underneath his hands, her pussy quivered and gushed in a small orgasm.

She mewled and moaned lightly, still breathing shallowly. Antonio stood up and pulled his clothes off slowly--leaving her writhing against the beach as she rolled her hips and thighs together, searching for some kind of relief. He put his foot against the back of her neck as he undid his shirt and slid it off. He pulled his pants off, and left them in a pile against the back of her head--like she was little more than a pile of dirty clothes herself.

His cock was thick and hard, dark and desirous. He knelt down behind her and she quieted down in anticipation. His hand when between her leg and she felt him move his fingers against her pussy. One by one, brushing her clit and driving her crazy.

Then, he pushed a long finger into her. Then another. Fucking them back and forth, he pushed and pulled and occasionally pinched her clit, sending pain and cries through her body and into the sand. He roughly plunged his fingers, two and then three into her--stretching her open and giving her no change to enjoy or dislike what was happening. It felt wonderful and then hurt and then toe-curlingly good and then flinchingly sharp.

He worked her in and out and then grabbed both of her hips and jerked her ass into the air quickly, her breasts scraping against the sand as she slid backwards, her face against the sand and pressed harshly against the beach. Without word or warning, Antonio positioned himself against her pussy, sweet and wet, eager and abused.

He pushed into her, and she felt him throb over and over, his thick cock barely inside of her and her own orgasm shaking her entire body before it even began. He waited. He waited. She began trying to push back against him, she started mewling and between gasps for air begging in a whisper.

"Please, Antonio." she murmured, against the wind--too silent for anyone to hear but her.

He moved against her and slowly sank his cock deep into her. She twitched and grunted as more of him opened her pussy--it felt like heaven, it felt better than anything had ever felt. And when he was inside of her entirely. When he'd finally filled her need, physically and emotionally, and she thought this was it, he brought that deft hand down against her right asscheek.

The crack of it was more startling then the feel of it--her eyes flew wide open from being closed tightly. She let out a soft exhale.

The again, in the same place, his hand came down and the crack was only slightly more shocking than the pain. His cock throbbed inside of her and she felt so close to cumming she thought she might die.

And again. And again. Over and over. For what seemed like hours and days, he beat her backside red and raw, his cock staying hard and still and throbbing--swelling and resting, swelling thick and large in her and resting. Over and over. She could cum from that alone, she knew it--but her ass was burning and hot, the pain was too much.

Her eyes were full of tears and her cries were muffled by the belt. She felt her tits were on fire as well, having been face down in the sand and roughly fucked and abused this was.

Finally, he stopped--her ass burning and tears wetting the beach underneath her face. Her sniffles suddenly stopped as Antonio began moving inside of her. He slid out and slammed into her, and out and slammed again. He fucked her roughly and unforgivingly. He was sliding against her G-Spot in that way only he could ever do; her body became wracked with orgasm after orgasm.

Lights and sensations filled her and her mewling and crying turned quickly into moans and howls of pleasure. His cock stroked in and out of her, fiercely, and she knew he could feel her spasming--after what seemed like forever, his fingers gripped her hips--pinching into her so strongly that she screamed into the sand in protest and moaning her pleasure the whole time.

She felt him jerk inside of her over and over. She felt warm and filled, she felt him hold himself there. He spent himself inside of her and, her body shook again in the last orgasm of the night--her fingers numb and twitching.

The strap loosened and she found she could breathe again. She gasped and deeply tried to catch her breath--her body limp and tired. She lay in the sand, with her body against the cold beach, and when she could manage, she turned over smiling. She lay on her back and tried to focus her eyes. She saw him walking away.

He carried his shoes. And wore his pants and white shirt. He got into the car and left her there... soiled and naked, raw and used. The sand in her hair fell down over her body, and she watched him go. And she cried.

He filed papers in the morning. And kept the kids. And tried to forget his beautiful wife, and the things she made him find in himself.