X Men Rogue Appetites
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The Rogue Wave free porn video
Please note I am not an English native speaker: I tried to be as accurate as I could, but I guess there will be some mistakes or some 'unnatural English" left. Sorry for that. Hope it will be good enough, nevertheless.
My wife (from now on “M”) and I have been married for 10 years. Our sexual relationship has always been satisfactory, even though sometimes I would like to experience a little more transgression.
13 years have elapsed since when we met and I’m still strongly attracted by her.
As far as physical appearance is concerned, she’s exactly the kind of woman I like: brunette, almost 1,70 tall, big breasts, regular features. Over the years her natural curly hair has grown wavy and now falls gently on her shoulders.
But what mostly turns me on is her innate sex appeal: her charming look, her glowing smile, the way she moves… I just can’t help feeling something under the belt.
When we met she used to have some bisex fantasies which to me was kind of icing on the cake.
I was telling about transgressions: few and less and less after the birth of our c***dren. Nowadays a few trips to some naturist beaches are the closest thing to a transgression we are experiencing.
I’m a voyeur and a bit of an exhibitionist, I like wild beaches and I find pleasant to stay naked regardless any sexual consideration. Naturist beaches, therefore, are places which really fit me, but I want to point out that I’m an irreproachable visitor, as we even go there with the k**s.
So no back and forth along the shore to seek some action, no settle down close to the only lone girl even though the rest of the beach is empty, no need to show the world that I’m up to the task of jerking me off. Those who visit nudist beaches understand what I’m talking about.
The only vice I allow myself to have is a quick glance at some good looking girl passing by now and then. But isn’t it what almost everyone does on the regular beaches too?
I have really never understood why M agrees to come to this kind of beaches but I’ve never investigated too deep fearing an answer like “I just want to please you, if it was up to me I wouldn’t go”, which clearly would put me in a tough spot.
The story I’m going to tell is actually related to a day at a naturist beach situated in the center of Italy.
We went there on a summer day, without c***dren. The beach was nothing near to be crowded. After all, naturist beaches are often quite empty, firstly because to get there you have to struggle (read: walk for a long rim under the sun) and secondly because most people are uncomfortable with nudity (hey, here’s the Middle Ages again!).
I really fancied the setting: wild and immaculate beach, transparent sea, closest person 30 meters far from us, no seaside establishment, no loud music, no shrieks, no crying k**s. Perfect weather conditions finished providing all the premises for a relaxing day.
Actually, we were having a good time: sunbathing, some dives, some reading, a little sleep… a few glances. Business as usual.
“Oh, what a pity!”, M suddenly exclaims.
“What?” I ask intrigued.
“That guy over there. It’s a shame he’s going away”, she adds chuckling.
Actually, a handsome guy has just passed by: thirtyish, dark-skinned, lean, an attractive face. I haven’t really focused on what he has under the – metaphorical – belt because I’m not interested in the item. But, by and large, I would say in no way you would use the word “small” to describe it.
The plot has a first shake when, early in the afternoon, That Guy (from now on TG) shows up again, coming from the opposite direction.
So what? He could be done with sunbathing and be heading home.
On the contrary, he walks in front of us, goes on for other 20 meters and then stops again. He puts its stuff down, lays the beach towel, takes off his swimsuit and lies down under the sun.
Again: nothing unsettling, it happens to move on the beach, there could be dozens of harmless and plausible reasons to do it.
Or maybe not.
“Are you happy now?” I ask.
She turns around, realizes what’s happened, smiles. “Yeah, sure!” says amused.
Then she turns around again and resumes reading her book. But him getting closer doesn’t leave her cold. Actually, a few moments later she redoes her hair and doing so she glances again at him.
Time goes by smoothly but I start being harassed by the sun, so I look for my sunglasses. I open the backpack pocket and grab them, but…wait…where’s my wallet? It is supposed to be there. I rummage all over the backpack but I don’t find it. A flash of inspiration: I left it in the car, on the dashboard. I curse at myself and I wonder what to do then I conclude that I have no choice: I have to go and pick it up because I don’t want it to be stolen and the car window to be smashed. Provided it hasn't already happened.
I inform M about my plan and tell her that it will take me about an hour to go back and forth.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we just go for good?”
“No, late afternoon hours is my favorite time on the beach, I don’t want to give them up. I’ll be back by 5 pm”. I answer.
And I set out.
Here the part of the story I lived firsthand ends. What follows is what happened over the following 45 minutes as M told me a couple of months later.
M is now alone, she keeps reading for a while, then puts down the book and leans her head on the beach towel. She’s dozing off.
In the meanwhile, I am a dot in the distance.
Then, suddenly.
“Sorry for bothering you, may ask you a favor?”
M turns around and sees TG in front of her. “What does he want?” she wonders a bit uncomfortable.
“Yes, what?”, she answers trying not to be overly disturbed.
“I really need to send a message but my battery has completely run out of life. Could you lend me your phone just for a moment?”.
M is a bit taken aback, the timing is suspect, but, in the end, it’s not a request that odd. And then, there are other people around there, so she doesn’t feel threatened.
She hands the phone to him.
TG digits something quickly then he hands the phone back to her. He thanks her graciously and, without any additional chatting, goes back to his spot.
M is relieved and now that everything is over she likes to think that, yes, he would have to send a message, but maybe it’s also true that he chose her because he likes her! She doesn’t know for sure, but she can’t help being a bit flattered.
She lies down again uncertain whether to read or to try sleeping. Silly doubt: the interaction which has just taken place, despite being minimal, was enough to make any torpidity vanish. “He is really gorgeous and I like his voice either”, she thinks. “And I like also that thing dangling between his legs”, she continues profligate.
Certain teenager-like feelings start to disturb her. Better resuming reading, as the mind could maybe come back on tracks.
Actually not.
The phone chimes: a message arrived. She doesn’t feel like getting up to take it, so she stretches her arm to try and get to the backpack. If she doesn’t succeed in that way, she’ll give up. She succeeds.
She unlocks the phone, opens the message. Astonishment. Disorientation. Almost panic.
“Hi, I’m the guy next to you. I didn’t have to send a message, I just did a call to my phone to get your number. First of all, I want to apologize for deceiving you. Surely I made a mistake, but I was dying to establish a contact with you because I find you beautiful and sensual. I don’t want to be conceited, but I thought you gave me some looks as well, so I plucked up the courage. Anyway, I don’t want to get you in trouble. If I’m bothering you, I stop writing, delete your number and go away right now. It’s not even necessary you tell me, just put your phone into the backpack and I’ll realize that it’s the sign I should leave”.
M is angry, she hates being deceived. M is afraid, if he is capable of such a move, what else could he do? M is worried, what’s going to happen when I come back? But M is also gratified. QR doesn’t look like a loser or a lunatic, he is no old dirty man. He is a wonderful guy surely successful with women and it seems he likes her so much! Maybe he is a womanizer, maybe he mostly like the situation, but, come on, it’s so tickling to think he’s fond of her!
Once she overcame the initial shock, she starts wondering how to get out of that situation, Because she wants, doesn’t she? She doesn’t want to talk to him as she fears to get embarrassed. She couldn’t bear ending up stuttering something incomprehensible.
Actually, she could just do what she was suggested to, put the phone into the backpack. The sign.
But she is hesitant.
She is hesitant because on principle she doesn’t want to undergo the rules of a game that was imposed her.
She is hesitant because she doesn’t want to take the chance of being deceived again and consequently having to feel stupid.
But, most of all: she is hesitant because her head wants the game to finish as soon as possible, but another part of her body, a part placed much lower, is starting to find it interesting.
She stands still, the phone in her hand, looking down.
The phone chimes again. Another message, obviously same sender: “ok, you didn’t put the phone away. I may learn that you don’t want me to go, or I could also think that you don’t even want to take me in consideration. I repeat, I don’t want to be a nag, so let’s do this way: if you want me to stay, just rub your hand on your forehead. If you don’t do it within 30 seconds, I’ll go”.
Well played.
“Now what am I going to do?” M asks herself.
There many motives not to do the gesture. First: shame. Second: her husband, me. Third: the fear of a leap in the dark. Four: not to do is always easier than to do.
But if he really goes away, she couldn’t help being disappointed. That is now quite clear to her.
30 seconds have elapsed. TG has not received the sign and now he’s gathering his stuff.
He’s going to leave, this time he is keeping his word.
Unfortunately.
On M’s face the disappointment is evident. She cannot help glancing the dismantling of his game (yes, now she feels it a bit hers too) and that’s when their eyes meet: TG pauses a bit, smiles and then, while he’s moving his gaze to resume his work, out of the corner of his eye he glimpses… M’s hand rubbing her forehead!.
She did it!
“How did it happen? How can I have been so stupid?” she asks herself brimming with shame.
Actually, that’s what happens when the honey pot takes over. Ok, but now?
Well, over there is no palce for a long term plan: the situation was too intriguing and unique to let it go, and that’s enough to prompt action.
While his brain tries to elaborate a meaningful strategy, TG, still smiling, sits down, takes the phone and types another message.
“I’m happy I don’t leave you cold. On the contrary, I think you like me if, despite the initial deceit and your husband on his way back, you want this to keep going”.
Then, the real blast, the third message.
“Listen, forgive my impudence, but there isn’t much time and this is my only shot. So, I’ll tell you straight: I have a strong desire to play with myself thinking about you. I want to go into the water and do it. If you watched me, it would be wonderful, but knowing you know what I’m doing would still be enough. Rub your head again on your forehead if you’re in. But if you’re in, do it now”.
M is speechless; over the last 20 minutes lots of things happened, especially inside herself, but this is a hurricane hitting her. If someone had told her, she would have thought that only a slut would have accepted such an insolence and that she would never ever have even considered doing so.
But the message coming from the lower part of his body was right the opposite: a terrific burst of heat, her pussy flooded, a shiver running down her spine.
And now there’s also a kind of way out: he "touches" himself and then goes away, right? (This is her mind which tries to rationalize, fooling itself to have a say on the decision).
The hand flies on the forehead.
TG smiles, pleased but not conceited, and heads toward the water. M can’t help noticing that his member is growing bigger. The heat rises.
He gets into the water, goes ahead for about 15 meters till the water reaches his neck. Just the head is popping out, the fun can start.
He turns around toward the beach, gaze into M’s direction and start to play with himself, as you can tell watching the slight movement of his facial muscles.
M realizes that she’s taking part in another man’s sexual activity. Is she a cheater? Couldn’t it just be like watching a porn movie? No, don’t k** ourselves, it isn’t. Not at all.
The embarrassment lasts shortly, her inhibitions thaws like ice under the sun and finally decided to fully enjoy the transgression, she returns the gaze.
Their arousal fuels each other's one and now it’s almost a torture for M not being able to masturbate. She knows that few light touches would be enough to come and her hand, out of control, leans on her pussy, prompting a moan. A sudden, incendiary, rush of breeze amplifies the pleasure.
At that moment her inhibitions made one last-ditch effort: “I can’t do that, here, among other people!”, she says to herself, pulling back her hand.
TG, maybe understanding what’s going on, takes another chance and makes a sign with his hand asking her to get into the water.
M is requested to climb another stair on the sin stairway and this time she takes very little to do it. Almost no time, indeed, because she has to have an orgasm, it’s not just a matter of pleasure or transgression, it’s a physical need.
She stands up looking around, she wonders if somebody else has realized what’s going on, but she doesn’t care too much anymore: nobody in going to see her in the water and then everyone is entitled to any conjecture they want.
She gets into the water, goes ahead until the water is up to her neck and then stops 5 meters away from TG.
The cold water and the proximity of TG cool down her arousal. The idea of being just a bimbo pops up again, so she starts to think about getting out.
But, before she could act, TG moves towards her with determination. She is stunned, a bit frightened but with the adrenaline running again.
He gets in front of her and with a low deep voice says: “Please, touch me. Make me cum”.
Another slide inside.
M doesn’t know how exactly to consider what’s happened till then; she hasn’t had time to figure it out, maybe neither the will.
If she touches him, there’s no doubt left, though: it’s a betrayal. And she doesn’t betray, She has never had.
But the hurricane blows away any rational thinking and so, yes, almost in a state of exhilaration, she grabs his cock and begins to masturbate him. With energy, ardor, and lust.
She doesn’t feel stupid anymore. She feels alive, she feels self-confident. She looks him straight into the eyes. She wants to make him cum, she wants to see him cum. Nothing else seems matter in this moment.
His moaning grows louder and, with a voice broken by lust, spurs her to continue.
“This is the most exciting experience of my life, I will never forget it and I will never forget you”, he whispers.
That’s too much, now also M has to come, otherwise she’ll go crazy.
She moves her hand close to her pussy, but she doesn’t have the chance to stroke herself as she feels an obstacle. It’s TG’s hand which shifts hers. He finds its way through her thighs and starts to massage her lips and then the clit.
M is overwhelmed by the pleasure which increases even more when he sticks one and then two fingers inside. For the first time in her life, she feels like a slut and that surprisingly makes her euphoric.
A few moments later, she hears him whisper among the moans “I’m cumming”. He pulls her towards him and fires three violent squirts of cum on her abdomen while he keeps on penetrating here with his fingers.
A moment and the sea will hand this picture to the past.
And at that very moment, the orgasm starts.
The strongest orgasm of her life, impetuous, shaking, endless, as she has to grab on to him and push her face against his chest to avoid shrieking. She moans for almost a minute, apparently without energy left.
It has been her rogue wave, the one which comes unexpected and blows away everything it finds on its way.
But, once it has crashed on the shore, even the most destructive wave shrinks back and makes room to what was there before. Or to what is left.
And so, M’s rational part takes back control of the body. Shame, discomfort, guilt take the place of the imposing flame of desire just burnt.
She makes sure that the sea washed away the signs of the betrayal and then quickly heads to the beach without saying anything.
TG stays on a couple of minutes just to avoid any kind of embarrassment, then he gets out of the water. As agreed, he gathers his stuff and gets ready to go. Before leaving, he grabs the phone: “I’ll keep my word. Thanks. Goodbye”. It’s the last message.
He takes the backpack and leaves, without turning around. Game over.
She sits on her beach towel, still and restless. Peers around. Now what people might have thought is not a detail anymore, but, fortunately, it seems that few people were left, all reasonably far from there.
The more she grows aware of what happened, the weaker her feeling of shame gets.
She has always maintained that one night stands were miserable, but this experience wasn’t. On the contrary, if she hadn’t been in a relationship, she would have been happy of having experienced that dimension of sexuality.
But she actually is in a relationship, she is married, she doesn’t betray. O at least it’s what she thought.
She is weirded out, she doesn’t even know if she regrets what she did. She doesn’t know if it was worth it. There will be consequences, it’s not clear what, but there will be some. What is certain is that she has realized she knows herself much less than she thought.
While she’s lost in those thoughts, I come back.
“Luckily my wallet was still there!” I announce triumphantly.
“Very well”, She answers feebly, raising slightly her gaze and with a smile trapped in her teeth.
“Hey, are you fine?”, I ask a bit puzzled.
Right, exactly the question she needed.
All our living of human beings controversial if not contradictory, our conflicted moods, the tension between instinct and reason, between individual penchants and social rules, well, all this complexity down to one simple question.
“Are you fine?”
She lowers her gaze for a while, then looks straight into my eyes. “Yes”.
My wife (from now on “M”) and I have been married for 10 years. Our sexual relationship has always been satisfactory, even though sometimes I would like to experience a little more transgression.
13 years have elapsed since when we met and I’m still strongly attracted by her.
As far as physical appearance is concerned, she’s exactly the kind of woman I like: brunette, almost 1,70 tall, big breasts, regular features. Over the years her natural curly hair has grown wavy and now falls gently on her shoulders.
But what mostly turns me on is her innate sex appeal: her charming look, her glowing smile, the way she moves… I just can’t help feeling something under the belt.
When we met she used to have some bisex fantasies which to me was kind of icing on the cake.
I was telling about transgressions: few and less and less after the birth of our c***dren. Nowadays a few trips to some naturist beaches are the closest thing to a transgression we are experiencing.
I’m a voyeur and a bit of an exhibitionist, I like wild beaches and I find pleasant to stay naked regardless any sexual consideration. Naturist beaches, therefore, are places which really fit me, but I want to point out that I’m an irreproachable visitor, as we even go there with the k**s.
So no back and forth along the shore to seek some action, no settle down close to the only lone girl even though the rest of the beach is empty, no need to show the world that I’m up to the task of jerking me off. Those who visit nudist beaches understand what I’m talking about.
The only vice I allow myself to have is a quick glance at some good looking girl passing by now and then. But isn’t it what almost everyone does on the regular beaches too?
I have really never understood why M agrees to come to this kind of beaches but I’ve never investigated too deep fearing an answer like “I just want to please you, if it was up to me I wouldn’t go”, which clearly would put me in a tough spot.
The story I’m going to tell is actually related to a day at a naturist beach situated in the center of Italy.
We went there on a summer day, without c***dren. The beach was nothing near to be crowded. After all, naturist beaches are often quite empty, firstly because to get there you have to struggle (read: walk for a long rim under the sun) and secondly because most people are uncomfortable with nudity (hey, here’s the Middle Ages again!).
I really fancied the setting: wild and immaculate beach, transparent sea, closest person 30 meters far from us, no seaside establishment, no loud music, no shrieks, no crying k**s. Perfect weather conditions finished providing all the premises for a relaxing day.
Actually, we were having a good time: sunbathing, some dives, some reading, a little sleep… a few glances. Business as usual.
“Oh, what a pity!”, M suddenly exclaims.
“What?” I ask intrigued.
“That guy over there. It’s a shame he’s going away”, she adds chuckling.
Actually, a handsome guy has just passed by: thirtyish, dark-skinned, lean, an attractive face. I haven’t really focused on what he has under the – metaphorical – belt because I’m not interested in the item. But, by and large, I would say in no way you would use the word “small” to describe it.
The plot has a first shake when, early in the afternoon, That Guy (from now on TG) shows up again, coming from the opposite direction.
So what? He could be done with sunbathing and be heading home.
On the contrary, he walks in front of us, goes on for other 20 meters and then stops again. He puts its stuff down, lays the beach towel, takes off his swimsuit and lies down under the sun.
Again: nothing unsettling, it happens to move on the beach, there could be dozens of harmless and plausible reasons to do it.
Or maybe not.
“Are you happy now?” I ask.
She turns around, realizes what’s happened, smiles. “Yeah, sure!” says amused.
Then she turns around again and resumes reading her book. But him getting closer doesn’t leave her cold. Actually, a few moments later she redoes her hair and doing so she glances again at him.
Time goes by smoothly but I start being harassed by the sun, so I look for my sunglasses. I open the backpack pocket and grab them, but…wait…where’s my wallet? It is supposed to be there. I rummage all over the backpack but I don’t find it. A flash of inspiration: I left it in the car, on the dashboard. I curse at myself and I wonder what to do then I conclude that I have no choice: I have to go and pick it up because I don’t want it to be stolen and the car window to be smashed. Provided it hasn't already happened.
I inform M about my plan and tell her that it will take me about an hour to go back and forth.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we just go for good?”
“No, late afternoon hours is my favorite time on the beach, I don’t want to give them up. I’ll be back by 5 pm”. I answer.
And I set out.
Here the part of the story I lived firsthand ends. What follows is what happened over the following 45 minutes as M told me a couple of months later.
M is now alone, she keeps reading for a while, then puts down the book and leans her head on the beach towel. She’s dozing off.
In the meanwhile, I am a dot in the distance.
Then, suddenly.
“Sorry for bothering you, may ask you a favor?”
M turns around and sees TG in front of her. “What does he want?” she wonders a bit uncomfortable.
“Yes, what?”, she answers trying not to be overly disturbed.
“I really need to send a message but my battery has completely run out of life. Could you lend me your phone just for a moment?”.
M is a bit taken aback, the timing is suspect, but, in the end, it’s not a request that odd. And then, there are other people around there, so she doesn’t feel threatened.
She hands the phone to him.
TG digits something quickly then he hands the phone back to her. He thanks her graciously and, without any additional chatting, goes back to his spot.
M is relieved and now that everything is over she likes to think that, yes, he would have to send a message, but maybe it’s also true that he chose her because he likes her! She doesn’t know for sure, but she can’t help being a bit flattered.
She lies down again uncertain whether to read or to try sleeping. Silly doubt: the interaction which has just taken place, despite being minimal, was enough to make any torpidity vanish. “He is really gorgeous and I like his voice either”, she thinks. “And I like also that thing dangling between his legs”, she continues profligate.
Certain teenager-like feelings start to disturb her. Better resuming reading, as the mind could maybe come back on tracks.
Actually not.
The phone chimes: a message arrived. She doesn’t feel like getting up to take it, so she stretches her arm to try and get to the backpack. If she doesn’t succeed in that way, she’ll give up. She succeeds.
She unlocks the phone, opens the message. Astonishment. Disorientation. Almost panic.
“Hi, I’m the guy next to you. I didn’t have to send a message, I just did a call to my phone to get your number. First of all, I want to apologize for deceiving you. Surely I made a mistake, but I was dying to establish a contact with you because I find you beautiful and sensual. I don’t want to be conceited, but I thought you gave me some looks as well, so I plucked up the courage. Anyway, I don’t want to get you in trouble. If I’m bothering you, I stop writing, delete your number and go away right now. It’s not even necessary you tell me, just put your phone into the backpack and I’ll realize that it’s the sign I should leave”.
M is angry, she hates being deceived. M is afraid, if he is capable of such a move, what else could he do? M is worried, what’s going to happen when I come back? But M is also gratified. QR doesn’t look like a loser or a lunatic, he is no old dirty man. He is a wonderful guy surely successful with women and it seems he likes her so much! Maybe he is a womanizer, maybe he mostly like the situation, but, come on, it’s so tickling to think he’s fond of her!
Once she overcame the initial shock, she starts wondering how to get out of that situation, Because she wants, doesn’t she? She doesn’t want to talk to him as she fears to get embarrassed. She couldn’t bear ending up stuttering something incomprehensible.
Actually, she could just do what she was suggested to, put the phone into the backpack. The sign.
But she is hesitant.
She is hesitant because on principle she doesn’t want to undergo the rules of a game that was imposed her.
She is hesitant because she doesn’t want to take the chance of being deceived again and consequently having to feel stupid.
But, most of all: she is hesitant because her head wants the game to finish as soon as possible, but another part of her body, a part placed much lower, is starting to find it interesting.
She stands still, the phone in her hand, looking down.
The phone chimes again. Another message, obviously same sender: “ok, you didn’t put the phone away. I may learn that you don’t want me to go, or I could also think that you don’t even want to take me in consideration. I repeat, I don’t want to be a nag, so let’s do this way: if you want me to stay, just rub your hand on your forehead. If you don’t do it within 30 seconds, I’ll go”.
Well played.
“Now what am I going to do?” M asks herself.
There many motives not to do the gesture. First: shame. Second: her husband, me. Third: the fear of a leap in the dark. Four: not to do is always easier than to do.
But if he really goes away, she couldn’t help being disappointed. That is now quite clear to her.
30 seconds have elapsed. TG has not received the sign and now he’s gathering his stuff.
He’s going to leave, this time he is keeping his word.
Unfortunately.
On M’s face the disappointment is evident. She cannot help glancing the dismantling of his game (yes, now she feels it a bit hers too) and that’s when their eyes meet: TG pauses a bit, smiles and then, while he’s moving his gaze to resume his work, out of the corner of his eye he glimpses… M’s hand rubbing her forehead!.
She did it!
“How did it happen? How can I have been so stupid?” she asks herself brimming with shame.
Actually, that’s what happens when the honey pot takes over. Ok, but now?
Well, over there is no palce for a long term plan: the situation was too intriguing and unique to let it go, and that’s enough to prompt action.
While his brain tries to elaborate a meaningful strategy, TG, still smiling, sits down, takes the phone and types another message.
“I’m happy I don’t leave you cold. On the contrary, I think you like me if, despite the initial deceit and your husband on his way back, you want this to keep going”.
Then, the real blast, the third message.
“Listen, forgive my impudence, but there isn’t much time and this is my only shot. So, I’ll tell you straight: I have a strong desire to play with myself thinking about you. I want to go into the water and do it. If you watched me, it would be wonderful, but knowing you know what I’m doing would still be enough. Rub your head again on your forehead if you’re in. But if you’re in, do it now”.
M is speechless; over the last 20 minutes lots of things happened, especially inside herself, but this is a hurricane hitting her. If someone had told her, she would have thought that only a slut would have accepted such an insolence and that she would never ever have even considered doing so.
But the message coming from the lower part of his body was right the opposite: a terrific burst of heat, her pussy flooded, a shiver running down her spine.
And now there’s also a kind of way out: he "touches" himself and then goes away, right? (This is her mind which tries to rationalize, fooling itself to have a say on the decision).
The hand flies on the forehead.
TG smiles, pleased but not conceited, and heads toward the water. M can’t help noticing that his member is growing bigger. The heat rises.
He gets into the water, goes ahead for about 15 meters till the water reaches his neck. Just the head is popping out, the fun can start.
He turns around toward the beach, gaze into M’s direction and start to play with himself, as you can tell watching the slight movement of his facial muscles.
M realizes that she’s taking part in another man’s sexual activity. Is she a cheater? Couldn’t it just be like watching a porn movie? No, don’t k** ourselves, it isn’t. Not at all.
The embarrassment lasts shortly, her inhibitions thaws like ice under the sun and finally decided to fully enjoy the transgression, she returns the gaze.
Their arousal fuels each other's one and now it’s almost a torture for M not being able to masturbate. She knows that few light touches would be enough to come and her hand, out of control, leans on her pussy, prompting a moan. A sudden, incendiary, rush of breeze amplifies the pleasure.
At that moment her inhibitions made one last-ditch effort: “I can’t do that, here, among other people!”, she says to herself, pulling back her hand.
TG, maybe understanding what’s going on, takes another chance and makes a sign with his hand asking her to get into the water.
M is requested to climb another stair on the sin stairway and this time she takes very little to do it. Almost no time, indeed, because she has to have an orgasm, it’s not just a matter of pleasure or transgression, it’s a physical need.
She stands up looking around, she wonders if somebody else has realized what’s going on, but she doesn’t care too much anymore: nobody in going to see her in the water and then everyone is entitled to any conjecture they want.
She gets into the water, goes ahead until the water is up to her neck and then stops 5 meters away from TG.
The cold water and the proximity of TG cool down her arousal. The idea of being just a bimbo pops up again, so she starts to think about getting out.
But, before she could act, TG moves towards her with determination. She is stunned, a bit frightened but with the adrenaline running again.
He gets in front of her and with a low deep voice says: “Please, touch me. Make me cum”.
Another slide inside.
M doesn’t know how exactly to consider what’s happened till then; she hasn’t had time to figure it out, maybe neither the will.
If she touches him, there’s no doubt left, though: it’s a betrayal. And she doesn’t betray, She has never had.
But the hurricane blows away any rational thinking and so, yes, almost in a state of exhilaration, she grabs his cock and begins to masturbate him. With energy, ardor, and lust.
She doesn’t feel stupid anymore. She feels alive, she feels self-confident. She looks him straight into the eyes. She wants to make him cum, she wants to see him cum. Nothing else seems matter in this moment.
His moaning grows louder and, with a voice broken by lust, spurs her to continue.
“This is the most exciting experience of my life, I will never forget it and I will never forget you”, he whispers.
That’s too much, now also M has to come, otherwise she’ll go crazy.
She moves her hand close to her pussy, but she doesn’t have the chance to stroke herself as she feels an obstacle. It’s TG’s hand which shifts hers. He finds its way through her thighs and starts to massage her lips and then the clit.
M is overwhelmed by the pleasure which increases even more when he sticks one and then two fingers inside. For the first time in her life, she feels like a slut and that surprisingly makes her euphoric.
A few moments later, she hears him whisper among the moans “I’m cumming”. He pulls her towards him and fires three violent squirts of cum on her abdomen while he keeps on penetrating here with his fingers.
A moment and the sea will hand this picture to the past.
And at that very moment, the orgasm starts.
The strongest orgasm of her life, impetuous, shaking, endless, as she has to grab on to him and push her face against his chest to avoid shrieking. She moans for almost a minute, apparently without energy left.
It has been her rogue wave, the one which comes unexpected and blows away everything it finds on its way.
But, once it has crashed on the shore, even the most destructive wave shrinks back and makes room to what was there before. Or to what is left.
And so, M’s rational part takes back control of the body. Shame, discomfort, guilt take the place of the imposing flame of desire just burnt.
She makes sure that the sea washed away the signs of the betrayal and then quickly heads to the beach without saying anything.
TG stays on a couple of minutes just to avoid any kind of embarrassment, then he gets out of the water. As agreed, he gathers his stuff and gets ready to go. Before leaving, he grabs the phone: “I’ll keep my word. Thanks. Goodbye”. It’s the last message.
He takes the backpack and leaves, without turning around. Game over.
She sits on her beach towel, still and restless. Peers around. Now what people might have thought is not a detail anymore, but, fortunately, it seems that few people were left, all reasonably far from there.
The more she grows aware of what happened, the weaker her feeling of shame gets.
She has always maintained that one night stands were miserable, but this experience wasn’t. On the contrary, if she hadn’t been in a relationship, she would have been happy of having experienced that dimension of sexuality.
But she actually is in a relationship, she is married, she doesn’t betray. O at least it’s what she thought.
She is weirded out, she doesn’t even know if she regrets what she did. She doesn’t know if it was worth it. There will be consequences, it’s not clear what, but there will be some. What is certain is that she has realized she knows herself much less than she thought.
While she’s lost in those thoughts, I come back.
“Luckily my wallet was still there!” I announce triumphantly.
“Very well”, She answers feebly, raising slightly her gaze and with a smile trapped in her teeth.
“Hey, are you fine?”, I ask a bit puzzled.
Right, exactly the question she needed.
All our living of human beings controversial if not contradictory, our conflicted moods, the tension between instinct and reason, between individual penchants and social rules, well, all this complexity down to one simple question.
“Are you fine?”
She lowers her gaze for a while, then looks straight into my eyes. “Yes”.
Trisha
- 29.11.2020
- 7
- 0
