Summer of '12

A slim woman strode down the beach with an elegantly athletic gait. Twelve hours earlier she'd disembarked the Range Rover from the ferry. The ship was loaded to its gunwales with residents and tourists, the car equally heavily loaded (with luggage for a month and one overly keen Labrador).

This section of beach ran rather steeply to the water, and wind-whipped surf of the Atlantic thudded in breakers of two and three feet onto the sand. Her loose white oxford shirt was whipped inland, the bottom of the thick tennis sweater that she'd draped over her shoulders flapped flag-like behind her. Her blonde ponytail streamed waywardly, this way and that and around to flick at her face. She was long-limbed, lean yet with middling-large breasts that strained at the shirt fabric and a soft curve to her hips.

The Labrador was ineffectually darting at seabirds that had momentarily alit upon the sand. In one exuberant charge it misjudged, missed a bird and collided headlong into an oncoming wave. The dog tumbled and, trying to regain its footing, tumbled again.

Before she could react a very young man, 18, in a scarlet polo shirt that did little to set off his reddy-brown hair, had dashed into the surf and expertly snagged the bewildered and panicked dog by the collar. The dog clawed for survival: at the water, at the air and at his savior. A matter of seconds and the Labrador was shaking and looking shocked on the beach. It ran to her and she gave it a hug, drenching her shirt.

The young man stood smiling at her. His hair -- still dry was dancing -- but his shorts and the bottom half of his shirt was soaked. His was trying hard not to be overt with his glances at her soaked shirt (which outlined her breasts). He had a lovely smile, all white teeth and engaging charm, and a pair of deep blue eyes that sparkled with energy and mischief.

He clutched his right arm, which has two long and bloody scrapes on it.

They introduced themselves and she thanked him with word and smile. The howling of the wind meant that they did this with awkwardly raised voices. She pointed to the wound and gestured that the path through the dunes leading to her house was not far behind. His wounds looked worse than the reality, but she should at least give him first aid cream and a bandage.

The noise of the wind dropped once they were in the lee of the dunes. The grasses atop the sandy ridges gyrated crazily, but now at least they could hear each other. "The house is this way, let me get you a bandage." They progressed by order of height: dog, woman, man.

"I am in your debt." She said. "This dog is all enthusiasm, no judgment."

"I have a Black lab. He's much the same." She was tall for a woman, but when she turned she found herself looking up him; he was comfortably over six feet with a lean build (not a surplus ounce) and a strong torso that spoke of rugby. He smiled again, perhaps even more gently this time. She reciprocated, brushing stray hairs the wind had dislodged as she did so.

The roped off path led to a subsidiary trail. A left turn and they were arrived at a gate in a picket fence backed by a taller hedge. The house beyond was flanked by trees and set on a rise behind a series of plantings (anchored by beach rose) designed to provide privacy; the pool complex and gardens were set below the house.

They skirted the pool area, which had notably unkempt grass verges, and mounted the steps where she set him in an Adirondack chair on the long, covered porch. She disappeared into the kitchen to fetch the first aid kit.

"That really was very kind of you" she repeated as she administered ointment and a rectangular bandage over the worst of the scratch.

"When did you arrive?" he replied.

"Last night. I was held up in New York by work and missed the ferry I'd booked. I rebooked on the later one: thank heavens it was a weekday and they had room. It was too late for the agent to meet me, but he left the keys and a note saying no gardener for a week. Problems of the lucky!"

"When does your husband arrive?" he glanced at the ring on her left hand.

"Hopefully in two weeks. He's in Asia working on a complicated joint venture. Our timing wasn't brilliant."

She then quizzed him. His family's house was one lane over. He'd finished prep school and was off to an Ivy-clad university in New Hampshire in the autumn. "All set then?" she smiled with a slight challenge in her eyes.

He reached forward and moved stray tendril of blonde hair. "You have lovely green eyes."

She could not help a small laugh. "Are you really hitting on me? Technically, I'm just about old enough to be your mother."

"I'm sorry" he said, and the hand moved back even if he did not at all look as though he meant it. The sun had pierced the clouds. He gazed intently at her. Her disordered blonde hair was set in a halo of sun, backed by a newly blue horizon of sea and sky. The sun cast his face -- strong chin and blue eyes and that sparkling smile -- in an intense light. "I should go."

She watched him set off. He had the grace and strength of an athlete. And charm. He turned to wave. She mouthed "thank you" and waved back.

---

The next day she woke to the sound of a lawnmower. The gardener? Making the pool area look less of a jungle was a minimum requirement at the price they'd charged for this house.

She rose and showered, letting the warm water caress her. She'd gone for a long run with the dog yesterday: the muscles still ached pleasantly and she enjoyed how lithe sports made her look and feel. The bedroom windows faced the ocean, and that is where she headed when she re-emerged from the bathroom, naked and still towelling herself. The long view was of dunes and sea. Sun and breeze streamed through the open windows, the gauzy curtains (she'd left them parted) swishing softly. The ocean looked blue and calmer than the wind-tossed day before. The morning sun offered just a hint of warmth as it caressed her freshly scrubbed skin. Her pink nipples stiffened in response to the breeze.

She listened to the birds chirping delightedly in the beach rose bushes. Odd that... and then she realised that the lawnmower's voice had been silenced. Dropping her gaze she saw a tall and athletic man in a Jack Wills cap and a green polo shirt was gazing fixedly at her (her naked torso framed perfectly in the window, 34C breasts jutting high and rounded) his forearms propped on the mower. Her dog rescuer?

She turned abruptly to get dressed. The mower began again. She threw on a pink cotton sweater and a loose pair of shorts she'd picked up on Capri and descended the stairs. Emerging to the pool area she noticed first the coolness of the flagstones under her bare feet. Her outrage at having been spied on was stilled by the trimmed neatness of the pool's verge.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, a slight edge in her voice. The question was, of course, multilayered.

"Your gardeners weren't coming 'til next week. I wanted to help." He beamed, a little cockily.

She looked at him taking his height and strength and smile.

"Thank you. But what's with the peeping tom?" She was feet from him now on one of the stone paths.

He was gazing at her with what can only be described as adoration. "You are absolutely gorgeous."

"I could be..."

She didn't finish the conventional evocation of age difference because he stepped forward and kissed her with determination and conviction, his hand reaching back behind her head.

She was so startled that, when he released her, she stood as though she'd grown roots through the stone. He kissed her again.

He sensed her indecision and stepped back. He tugged his shirt over his head and, stepping out of his all-white leather tennis shoes, shrugged off his shorts to stand in tight boxer length underwear. A sheen of sweat covered his torso and upper arms, the muscles of which were perhaps better chiselled than the tight polo shirt had advertised.

"May I swim? I'm hot."

He dove in and swam two lengths. He hauled himself at the edge of the pool to stand near her. Water rippled and shimmered over an athlete's frame. The white fabric of his boxers had become somewhat translucent, and an impressive package of heavy balls, cock and a patch of reddy-brown pubic hair were strongly hinted at.

She stared, longer perhaps than was necessary, before mumbling "I must go. Must go. Errands to run and pet food to pick up then I have... arrange for all the pool loungers... to be put out." Her usual lucidity deserted her.

He dressed and left by the dune gate. He turned, smiled and waved with apparent cheerfulness.

She ran 10 kilometres along the bike paths that evening before finishing with another two along the firm strip of beach by the water.

---

The next morning she emerged from the shower to another day of sun and wind softly swishing the curtains. The sound of wood dragging over stone punctuated the cries of gulls and the smaller birds nesting in the trees and bushes.

She shrugged on a robe of thin white fabric and peered down. Her attempted seducer and another friend, the same height but perhaps slightly less muscled, were shirtless carrying the heavy wooden loungers from the storage shed (do storage sheds have clocktowers? This one did) behind of the cabana.

She went down in her robe, belt tightened, but still in her robe. She was conscious of the sway of her breasts and nipples against the fabric.

The young men were of a similar height, both clearly the result of hard training. The other boy, called Andrew, and he were at school together, housemates in fact.

She thanked them and went in to fetch water for them. She felt them both stare at her ass and bare legs on the return journey.

---

She returned that afternoon to find a vase of lilies and a bag of dog treats on the porch.

---

The next morning he was hosing down the loungers. She stood naked, framed in the window after her shower, watching him finish that task and then saunter to start removing lounger cushions. He looked up expectantly, hoping to find her, which he did. He stared intently, hungrily, his lips parted slightly.

The window was large, but she was still covered below her belly button. They stared at each other. She had been on enough European beaches for toplessness to be nothing of great significance to her: plenty of men had seen her breasts.

She slipped on the robe and went out. He'd already covered the ground to the porch and was waiting there, head upturned in anticipation.

"That's a lot of unpaid work simply to try and seduce an older woman."

His face reddened, but he was surprisingly unashamed.

"You are beautiful. You have a body better than any girl I know. I want you." A silence, which felt long but wasn't, ensued.

"I could be..."

Again, he covered the gap to kiss her. His hand knotted in her loose blonde hair. This time she responded. Her hand went flat against his chest, feeling the taut muscle and the heat. He parted his mouth and their tongues soon met. A hand reached behind her and caressed the swell of her ass.

She pushed away, hesitated, then took his hand to lead him up the steps, across the porch and through the kitchen to the ground floor guest bedroom.

They kissed voraciously as he tugged her robe off. He kissed with urgency, his hands wandering until they came front to cup her high, round breasts.

He pulled back to admire her. She was a pale Nordic beauty, waxed with a tightly defined slit and pink nipples. She arched her eyebrows and nodded, comprehending he interrupted his gaze to clumsily tug off his clothes.

She noticed that he shaved his balls, which were large, and kept his pubic hair well trimmed. His chest was bare of hair. He was definitely a grower, as an uncircumcized cock of a little over seven inches bounced around as he moved: larger than the package advertised by his wet boxers. The foreskin had receded much to reveal a somewhat bulbous dark red head. "You are so gorgeous" he repeated, in a robotic sort of trance.

He came back to her. His cock sandwiched rodlike and hot between them as he kissed her.

She pivoted them around and pushed him onto the bed. His cock stood proudly and insistently. His balls were tight and the size of a pair of limes. She clambered onto the bed, his eyes fixed on her bar pussy, and moved to straddle him. She wet her finger to lubricate the entry and then rose above him, one hand holding his chest down and the other grabbing his cock to guide it into here. They both sighed with released tension as she sank onto him. She rose again and sank again. His hand rose to cup her breasts.

Different anatomies can fit together with greater or lesser effect. In this case the size and angle of his bulbous glans hit her g-spot when she made the strokes long. She rode his pole with deliberation, his hands now playing with her nipples. At the sixth stroke he erupted inside her, a gusher of sperm and a release of days of tension. He stayed hard and she rode him further as she toyed with her clit. The orgasm hit hard, with three waves as she fell onto him, he still largely tumescent cock still embedded in her.

Time passed as they lay motionless, and then slowly and stickily she climbed off him. His face was dominated by a large and triumphant smile. He cradled his head with muscular arms as he stared at her.

Her face betrayed mixed emotions. As pleasurable as the sex just was, this sort of thing could spread like wildfire gossip.

"I won't say a thing. I can keep my mouth shut." It was as if he'd read her mind.

Her corporate lawyer brain kicked into ger and, calmly and with calming tones, she explained why this had not happened and why what had not happened could never happen again.

"What if I told you a secret about my university application, about what I had to do in terms of faking an extra-curricular activity to get past the politically correct people in the admissions office? What if I gave you proof that could get me thrown out?"

And taking his phone and hers he gave her just that. "Now you can destroy me if I blab."

He sat back on the bed and his cock started to swell. She was still quite naked before him. His eyes darted around her body.

She went into the bathroom and emerged with a facecloth. "Clean yourself up."

He wiped his cock hesitantly, and then more happily as she made no move to leave or get dressed. His cock was now 3/4 erect and she sank to her knees before him and took his penis in her hand. She began by kissing the tip and addressing it with small licks. She then traced its length with her tongue, feeling it engorge further.

His hands rested on her shoulders, occasionally stroking, occasionally touching her should length blonde hair. She was able to take perhaps half of it in. She began to slide up and down as he began to utter a series of moans. The he placed his hand on the back of her head and forced her down. She gagged and backed off the instant more than four inches of cock were in her mouth. He tried to hold her down.

She slapped his arm away and stood up, eyes blazing. "What the fuck was that?"

"I thought...". He was evidently in shock at the reaction and scared at the possible consequence. His saliva-slicked cock was rapidly deflating.

"You thought what? That every woman behaves like a porn starlet?"

He sat speechless. "This is the problem with men today. Too much porn."

She looked at him. He was still gorgeous, and she was still in the mood. "Show me what you watch so I can set some boundaries."

At the thought of being invited back he smiled with relief.

Minutes later they were in the office watching porn on the screen. A blonde basically similar to her -- he had his type! -- was servicing a well-muscled man.

The actress happily deep throated as her head was held onto a cock. The actress happily licked his balls and propped him back to tongue his ass as she stroked his impressively big cock. She took a pounding from behind and was delighted when he switched to fuck her ass with deep and deliberate strokes.

They were both still naked and she found herself rubbing her young lover's shaft as they both watched the euro-porn. It was strangely arousing to see her lover so mesmerised by her sort-of-doppelganger. As the video switched to the actress impaling her ass on the co-actor's cock reverse cowgirl style with legs spread wide and a pink cunt wide open, and (no surprise) another porn actor entered the scene, she grabbed her young and enthusiastic lover to bed. She lay wanton and spreadeagled for him, inviting him.

This time he set the pace, and he lasted much longer. He accelerated and soon started making guttural noises. He pulled out and kneeled up to angle jets of sperm onto her tits.

-----

He was early the next day.

She guided him to lick her pussy, tonguing the outer lips then toying with her clit with the tip of his tongue. She taught him to gently hook his finger and tickle as he fingered her pussy. The combination was wonderful.

She rose and lubricated his cock with her mouth. Swirling her tongue around the cockhead and trying to take him as deeply as possible. She managed over four inches this time.

She let him spread her legs wide. He mounted her and pistoned her with his cock with growing speed. He went onto his knees, the better to manhandle her tits. The sensation of palm on her nipple seemed to elicit pleasure.

She played with her clit. He erupted into her and she came not long after. She held him in with her legs as the waves subsided. He extracted his cock and, covered with her juices and his cum, presented it to her. She opened her mouth and swirled around it. His eyes closed with delight.

They lay together, and half an hour later he was hardening. "Let me" she said softly, deeply. "I'm sated, but..." She took his cock in her mouth, revelling as it stiffened as the tongue wrapped around it. There was a mirror on the wall behind. He sat against the cushions staring at the mirror. She angled her ass and spread her legs to give him a second view, a spread view, of her waxed ass and pink pussy bouncing as she greedily inhaled his penis.

She popped his cock out of her mouth and tilted sideways to lap at his balls. She slurped and tugged on his upper shaft, the cockhead firm and red. She returned and began to give him deep and long strokes. He was moaning. She looked up at him. Tentatively he reached his hand and placed it on the back of her head. She said yes with her eyes and moved to slide further down his cock, deeper than before. She slid up and down four times before he tensed, his fingers twining her hair and pressing more tightly. She wrapped her mouth and held onto him. She felt the tension rippling through the muscles of his legs. His torso tightened and his cock swelled, enlarging her lips further, as he spurted cum deep into her mouth. He delivered three blasts. Streams of hot semen surround his cock in her mouth. Some dribbled down the shaft, but a lot of it was swallowed.

----

She was busy the next morning, and he was only invited in the afternoon. He had clearly been pacing the dunes, expectant and horny. He began undressing her in the kitchen and his hand was in her panties (all she had left on) before they reached the guest bedroom.

He fell to his knees, yanked her panties down, and more or less tried to inhale her pussy and clit. His hands gripped her ass cheeks, his fingers penetrating her crack and toying with the edge of her asshole.

He steered her to the bed and onto her knees. He moved to her pussy. She felt his tongue and then his breath on the moisture as he pulled back and was breathing heavily on the slickness of her ass and cunt. He held her ass cheeks wide and then, her face registering surprise, began to caress the rosebud of her ass with his tongue. He rimmed the edge then began on the sphincter. She moaned as these nerve endings were stimulated; her hand reached back and she began to masturbate herself.