Seaside with Two Sisters

Watching two naked young women splashing with delightful abandon in the moonlit waves was just what I needed to restore my worn-out soul.

They were too far to see in detail from my perch high on the bluff overlooking the beach. Only during the moments when the moon peeked from behind the thin clouds could I make out more of them.

Both had lovely figures: fit, with wide hips and average breasts. Their laughter was an uplifting symphony of delight, though muted by distance and the onshore breeze as they attacked the rolling surf.

By coincidence, I was naked too.

I don't know why I'd stripped off. After a full day driving to the island, then having to find my campsite in the dark then fumbling around setting up the stupid tent in the car's headlights, I was pissed off and full of reckless energy.

The midnight breeze was warm, the beach was just on the other side of the hill, and no one was around, so why the hell not? I stripped off, grabbed my stash, and picked my way through the beach grass to a bare spot of sand on the dune bluff. The sand was cool on my bare ass. I sparked up a joint and took in the nearly full moon and the low waves breaking on the beach below.

The two girls showed up minutes later, laughing and talking as they strolled across the sand, their words masked by the wind and surf.

At first, they stood together, halfway between the bluff and the waves, talking quietly. Hidden by the dark and the beach grass, they didn't notice me watching from the bluff.

One said something and the other exclaimed in protest. They talked more then the first girl threw up her hands, stripped off her sun dress and ran naked to the water's edge. She beckoned to her friend, then waded deeper and dove under a crashing wave, reappearing waist-deep, wiping water from her eyes, her skin slick in the moonlight.

The other girl stood on the sand with arms wrapped around herself, looking around nervously.

After many minutes of encouragement by her friend in the water, she took a final careful look around, then stripped off her shorts and shirt and joined her friend. She squealed when the cool surf first splashed her. The other girl grabbed her arm and pulled her further into the waves.

I finished my joint and sat admiring the scene of carefree beauty. The pair splashed and shouted, jumping each time a wave rolled past or ducking under as one raced over them. The girls steadied each other as each wave hit or helped the other up when one got swept over.

They seemed to be around my age—early or mid-twenties. I wanted to trot down the hill and join them, to splash naked in the cool surf, but I knew better.

Eventually, the cool water must have got to them. The pair emerged and strode to their clothes, wrapping arms around themselves. With no towels, they struggled pulling their clothes on over wet skin.

They talked a little longer, then hugged. The girl in the shorts and t-shirt went back along the beach the way they had come, leaving the other behind.

The fun was over. I pulled out another joint to fortify me for the trip back to my tent, crouching to shield the lighter from the breeze. When I looked up, the girl in the sundress had walked nearly to the bottom of the bluff, where the path led straight to me.

If I stood to run back to my camp site, she would surely see me in all my naked-ass glory. So, I crouched low, hoping she would stay down on the beach. But she started picking her way up the narrow sandy path directly to where I sat.

Before she got too close, I called out.

"Hey, miss? I don't want to scare you, but there's someone up here."

She froze and looked up. I sat up and waved an arm.

Peering up quizzically, she called, "Is it just you up there?"

"Yup."

"Were you spying on us?"

"Uh, no miss. Not on purpose. I was sitting here watching the waves way before you and your friend showed up."

She nodded. "Is that you smoking that weed?"

I shouldn't have been surprised. The smell of weed carries like nothing else.

"Yup," I said. "That's me."

"Mind if I take a hit?"

I grinned. "Uh, sure. But..."

Before I could finish, she marched up the path towards me. I could see more of her now: a pretty girl-next-door face, her hair a mess of loose brown curls falling just to her shoulders. Modest breasts filled out the top of her dress.

There was no time and nothing for me to cover up with, so I clamped the joint between my lips and covered my crotch with my hands.

She stopped. "The fuck? You're naked? You've been watching us and jerking off, haven't you?"

I explained how I had just arrived after hours of driving and felt like doing something a little wild. After all, it was long past midnight and no one else was around, at least until her and her friend showed up. And lovely as they were, I was too tired and too stoned to jerk off.

Approaching, she eyed me critically, then nodded to herself. Tucking her dress under her ass, she sat cross-legged on the sandy path, just out of reach.

She leaned over and plucked the joint from my lips.

"I can relate," she said. "My sister and I have been doing nothing but work. We were too tired to sleep, and it was too hot. We came here to let out some steam."

She took a long drag, then she threw her head back to exhale.

I said, "That was your sister with you? You work here?"

She handed back the joint. "We waitress over at the lobster suppers. Did it last summer, too. Pays for almost the whole year of college in the fall."

I told her I'd heard tourists came from everywhere for the beaches, the summer theater, and the lobster suppers. Busloads visited them all summer. I didn't know they were so profitable.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "We all get a cut from the tour bus companies. And rich tourists bring their entire families or treat their business buddies. We smile, show some cleavage and if you ignore the occasional pat on the ass, most tip really well."

"Never ate lobster," I said. "So where do you stay? Gotta be expensive in a resort town like this."

"We rent a site for the season here in the campground. Our dad leaves our pop-up trailer here at the start of summer."

"That's smart," I said, taking back the joint. "I worked construction after high school. Pay was okay, but it's hard work."

She looked me up and down. "Is that why you're so fit? Or do you work out?"

I laughed. "My grandparents run a farm. Guess how I spent my summers growing up? And I've been working in a tractor factory. Both are plenty good for staying in shape. Also hard work."

"Yeah? Serving tourists is no picnic either," she said. "And this time of year, it's non stop."

She looked out over the ocean and breathed in the salt air.

"Mmm. It's pretty when the sea is like this."

"It's incredible," I said. "This is the first time I've ever seen the ocean."

"Seriously?"

"I grew up out West. We've got mountains, some big rivers, a few big lakes, but nothing like this."

"So why'd you come here?"

"One of my buddies grew up here. He never stops going on about it. I really needed a change of scenery, so I said fuck it, borrowed some camping gear and drove twelve hours to get here."

"We only have a four-hour drive," she said. "My family came here every summer when we were growing up. Lots of good memories. But it's different when you work here. It's just work, sleep eat, and repeat. This is only the second time this summer we got to go for a swim."

"Naked?"

She grinned. "Was that a treat for you? I'll skinny-dip any chance I get. It feels sooo good. And no one seemed to be around, so why the hell not?"

"It looked like your sister took some convincing."

"Yeah. She's the cautious one. Always a little shy. Speaking of which..."

She reached for the joint, watching with amusement as I handed it to her while keeping one hand covering my crotch.

"...it looks like you're a little shy too."

"Uh, well, it seemed polite to cover up. Didn't want to seem like any more of a creep, you know? I've never been caught naked before."

"No?" she laughed. "I have. And I've seen a dick before, too. So, relax. You saw us, after all."

"Yeah, from way up here. Not up close and personal."

Taking a long drag of the joint, she gave me an expectant look. Reluctantly, I moved my hand away.

She looked briefly and gave an appreciative nod. "There. Isn't that better, cowboy?"

"Uh, guess so."

Grinning, she sucked back the last of the joint.

"That was good stuff. Did you get it at the cannabis store?"

"Fuck no. Those places are expensive. I brought it with me."

She wagged a finger. "Ooo, naughty. You know, it's only legal here if you buy it here from the official stores."

I smiled. "Gonna turn me in? Report me as a nudist drug smuggling peeping tom?"

She laughed. "Not if you share. My stash ran out two weeks ago. The closest official store is way back in city and we don't have a car."

"Well, I do," I said. "I plan to drive into the city in a day or two. I'll bring you back something good."

"Well, aren't you sweet?" she said. She got to her feet, brushing off her dress. "Do that and maybe I'll find some way to thank you."

She grinned, looking me up and down again, then started picking her way down the path to the beach.

Scrambling to stand, I shouted, "Hey, wait! What's your name? Where do I find you?"

She called over her shoulder. "Emma. Meet me here tomorrow. Midnight."

Without looking back, she waved an arm and started walking down the beach.

I yelled, "I'm Blake," but I couldn't tell if she heard or not.

~~~~

That night I couldn't stop thinking of the girl, Emma. How open she had been, sharing a joint with a complete stranger, especially one she'd caught naked.

In the morning I explored the resort town, though calling it a town was a bit much: it was just a long strip of road packed with attractions, motels, tourist shops, and restaurants.

Everything was family friendly without a single bar or nightclub. All of it was sandwiched between rolling farmland on one side and the endless ocean on the other.

The beach was almost as endless. White sand stretched as far as you could see. Walking on the sand was exhausting, so I strolled barefoot on the damp packed sand by the water. Tiny birds pecked the sand as each wave receded, then scurried away each time one came in.

Bikini-clad women passed, and throngs of families huddled under beach umbrellas and built sandcastles. Tiny white fishing boats puttered around on the wide ocean.

The surf was mild, so later I went for a swim and discovered salt water tastes terrible and jellyfish stings hurt like hell.

Far down the road, I found the famous lobster suppers, the parking lot crammed with tour buses, motorhomes, and family SUVs. Curious, I stepped inside.

It reminded me of the big steak houses back home: one huge dining hall partitioned in sections of individual tables by low walls. But instead of decor being cowboy junk, everywhere was garish maritime kitsch: lobster traps, ships wheels, fishing nets, model boats and red plastic lobsters.

A group of sweaty older men barged past, crowding out the door. The last guy turned to snarl something foul at the cute but exasperated girl behind the reservation counter and gave her the finger.

With a sympathetic look, I asked, "Was it something you said?"

"Only that we couldn't change their reservation for two to a reservation for seven golf buddies at the last minute. Apparently, that makes me an ugly bitch and worse than the antichrist."

I laughed. "You look all right to me."

She smiled and did a little curtsy, casting me a flirty look. "Why, thank you, sir. So do you. Do you have a reservation?"

"Oh, I just came in to look."

"Well," she said sweetly, "we happen to have a table just open up. Want it?"

"I dunno. I've never had lobster. What if I don't like it?

"Not a problem. You can have steak. Or scallops. Or lobster and either one on the side."

They sat me at the far end of the hall, by picture windows overlooking fishing boats tied to the wharf. The paper placemats had printed instructions on how to open and eat a lobster. It seemed like a lot of effort just to eat a big sea insect. I opted for pre-shelled lobster with a small steak on the side.

I ate while scanning the room for Emma. Then I spied her far on the other side, looking harried, being pulled in all directions at once. I waved, trying to catch her eye, but the place was hopping, and the servers were scrambling to cater to the crowd.

One time she saw me waving, but there was a crash as a table with restless kids knocked a plate of food to the floor. She scrambled to deal with the mess.

When I finished, I couldn't see her. I wanted to hang around, but the place was so noisy and busy I needed to leave.

~~~~

At midnight, I sat on the bluff watching the ocean, this time dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.

By 12:40 I was about to give up, then nearly jumped out of my skin when a hand touched my shoulder from behind.

"Sorry I'm late," Emma said. She wore a tighter-fitting sundress this time. She sat close on the sand.

"Mia—that's my sister—didn't want me to come. She freaked out when I told her about last night. She's sure you're an ax murderer or a drug fiend."

I lit up the joint I'd been holding on to and took a drag.

"Maybe I'm both," I said, handing it to her.

Emma chuckled. "Naw. I'm a pretty good judge of people."

"I went to the lobster supper for dinner," I said.

"Yeah? You were lucky to get a table. I didn't see you."

"I saw you. But you were being pulled six directions at once. Is the place always that busy?"

She nodded. "Always. Told you it was no picnic. Wait... who was the host? The greeter? Was it a tiny redhead?"

"Yep."

"Did she flirt?"

"A little."

Emma made a face. "That was Erin. The little slut. She hits on everyone. Anyway, next time, throw a bun at me or something. I'll comp you a free bowl of chowder. Did you like the lobster?"

"Not a lot. The steak was better."

"Spoken like a true Westerner. You know we sell almost as much steak as lobster?"

"Well, cows are tastier. And a damn sight prettier."

Emma grinned. "There's a joke: 'The first person to ever eat a lobster must have been pretty damn hungry.'"

I laughed. "So, which do you like?"

"Neither. I'm vegetarian. I don't eat anything that has a face, pretty or ugly."

"Wow," I said. "Don't tell anyone that if you go out West. Vegetarians aren't too welcome. So, I guess that makes you a vegetarian pot smoking nudist."

She laughed and shoved her shoulder against mine.

"You bet," she said. "And proud of it. Want to know what I'm studying at college?"

"Ecology," I guessed.

"Close. Environmental science."

"Great. So, you're a vegetarian pot smoking nudist tree hugger. Then you definitely do not want to venture out West."

We laughed, watching the ocean and sharing the joint. When it was done, Emma stood and stretched.

"Time for a swim," she said.

"You mean..."

She pulled me to my feet. "Yup. Get your clothes off, cowboy."

We ran down to the water's edge, stripped, and waded into the nippy water until we were waist deep.

The moon was bright enough to get a look at her. Her breasts were pleasant handfuls, beautifully shaped, with tiny nipples erect in the breeze. She had wide hips, giving her a bottom-heavy look.

Emma was playful, splashing and trying to dunk me under. She was beautiful, smiling and splashing waist deep, naked in the moonlight. She swept my feet out from under me, and I went under. When I surfaced, wiping the stinging salt water from my eyes, Emma stood just out of reach, laughing and teasing.

I caught her, lifted her over my head as she wriggled and squealed, then threw her into an approaching wave. I got concerned when she didn't surface immediately. I yelled with fright when something grabbed both my ankles under the water and yanked me off balance. Emma, again.

Soon we were tired and cold. We ran back to our clothes. It was impossible to pull them on over our wet skin, so we bundled them up and found a driftwood log to sit on near the base of the sand dune bluff.

The warm ocean breeze dried us quickly, but Emma made no move to get dressed. Neither did I. We sat side-by-side watching the waves and stars.

A welcome sense of peace settled over me. Back home, we only had oceans of grass. Or corn. Or wheat. Seeing all that water was strange, but somehow comforting.

Emma nudged me. "So what's your story, cowboy? What did drive so far to escape?"

"Just needed a change, that's all. The factory I worked at shut down. Then my girlfriend left me for someone else."

"Ah, there we go—the truth! Were you together long?"

"Three years."

"Ouch. Let me guess—the guy she left you for doesn't deserve her, right?"

I sighed. "No. He does. He's my best friend. Was my best friend. They'd been fucking behind my back for a year. Then when I didn't have money anymore, she made it permanent."

"Well, that's shitty." She chuckled. "Sounds like a country song, you know? One of those 'My truck died and my dog left me' ones."

"Guess it does. My truck did die, too. Now I'm stuck driving a twelve-year-old subcompact with a rusted out floor."

Emma laughed. "If you played the guitar, you could be the next country-western star. The songs are all either about their woes or their women."

"One and the same for me. Though I gotta say, right now things are looking up." I turned to Emma and smiled.

She met my gaze and smiled back.

"You know," she said, "Too bad you didn't like the lobster. They say it tastes like pussy."

She grinned like a kid who just told their first dirty joke.

"Oh, do they?" I said. "Don't see how. Every pussy tastes different."

"An expert, are you?"

"Naw. Though, I've never had any complaints. Been a while, though."

Emma hesitated, scanning me, then leaned forward to meet my lips.

Her lips were sweet and as soft as the breast she guided my hand to. We kissed, hands roaming over each other as the ocean breeze caressed us both.

When finally we separated, I couldn't stop smiling.

Emma picked up her sun dress, shook it and spread it out on the sand behind the log. She stood, then lay back on it, inviting me to join her.

"We could go back to my tent, you know."

She just shook her head.

We kissed and caressed each other, our need growing. I had never met anyone like her, and never before been so comfortable with someone so quickly.

She sighed happily and held me to her when I slid lower to take a breast into my mouth. I massaged and teased her other breast, then caressed her tummy, her thighs, then finally touched her center.

Emma pushed her up her hips to meet my fingertips and widened her legs. She was already slick and ready. With the pads of my fingers, I teased all around her mound and delicate lips, briefly brushing the hood of her clit then avoiding contact.

She stroked my cock and spread the leaking pre-come over the sensitive head.

Her eyes were wild with need as she urged me onto her, guiding my dick towards her opening.

"Fuck me, Blake," she whispered. "Fuck me, cowboy."

"Not just yet. I wanna check something."

Emma giggled when I escaped her grasp and slid lower, planting kisses along the way: between her breasts, over her tummy, then to just above her womanly triangle of trimmed fur. Her skin tasted of ocean salt.

Moving lower still, I parted her legs. Her clit was peaking from under its hood, so I gave it a tiny lick of my tongue.

"Oooo," Emma moaned, and spread her legs wider.

Settling in, I began exploring every part of her with fingers, lips and tongue while Emma pushed her hips to meet my face, gasping and groaning as I caressed and rubbed every part of her tender folds.