Scintillectually Yours

I turn the camera on you and catch you, tan and content, just as you look up from your shell hunting to show me the tiniest, most perfect cowrie. You pull a face and start to chase me down the beach. It’s quiet now—most of the sun worshippers and families with kids have headed back to their respective cottages to have dinner. We, however, have wandered about two miles from our oceanfront rental and it is our last night here before we have to make the 4 ½ hour drive home; we are determined to watch one last sunset together in one of our favorite places.

The week has been idyllic. Just the two of us this time, filling our days with long walks, cooking great meals together, basking in the sun, riding our bikes the seven-mile stretch of the island in the mornings, sitting on the porch during afternoon thunderstorms watching dark gray waves pound the hard sand, and making love to the sound of the surf at night through the open windows of our loft bedroom. Now, at the end of our stay, I am feeling that end-of-vacation letdown. You sense my mood, as ever, and reach for my hand. We walk quietly along the water’s edge—our footprints disappear behind us with each step.

I ask if we can stop and rest for a bit. I want to sit, read, just be near you. I pull a blanket out of my tote bag and we unfurl it against the dunes. We both settle in, creating concave spaces for our bodies in the soft sand underneath us. You reach over and pull my face to you, kiss me lightly, whisper your love to me. I smile in return and pick up my book.

Disoriented. At first I think I must be home in bed. Something covers my body and I feel your hand on my inner thigh, stroking me. I try to open my eyes. “Honey,” you say softly, “it’s almost sundown.” I can’t get my bearings but I’m intensely aroused. “You fell asleep, baby, it’s been almost an hour.” What? I’m fuzzy. I try looking up at you, perched on your left elbow, your hand stroking me, closer, closer. The light is too bright and I shut my eyes again. Murmur something. Mmmmm…oh, it feels so good. Your hand begins to trail away and I let my legs drop open wide. You chuckle under your breath and return your hand to its proper place.

I can feel the breeze upon me and you take the beach towel that you had covered me with and pull it further over us. Even though we are tucked against the dunes, anyone walking by could easily take notice. The thought makes me feel even more delicious. My hips grind against your hand of their own accord and now that I’m fully awake I reach down and slip my bikini bottom off, giving you complete access to my cunt, warm and ready for you. You nuzzle your face in my neck, softly at first, then you almost playfully bite that spot that you know drives me absolutely wild with desire. I gasp and moan and spread my legs wider as your fingers trace lazy circles on my clit, pausing only to dip occasionally into my abundant wetness and back up again.

My hands wander your torso, under your tee, and I pinch your nipple hard just to hear your quick intake of breath. My nails rake crisscross patterns across your back, upper arms, and sides. You lean over and run your tongue lightly across my lips. I open my mouth to you and suck softly on the fullness of your lower lip. As our kisses become more fevered I reach down between your legs. “Off. Off.” I have an urgent need to touch you—to come at the same time.

You comply, pulling off your board shorts. I pull you on top of me so that you straddle my right thigh. At the same time I reach down and push several of your fingers firmly into me. I lose contact with your mouth as my head drops back and I arch upward, my body lost in the moment of you. your hand. us. our bodies. We move together in a well-rehearsed dance—my thigh rising rhythmically between your legs, my hand pressed into your cunt, your shaft hard against my palm, my fingers slick and satisfied.

Your fingers curl into that spot—that spot—and I suddenly feel flush from head to toe. Warm ejaculate spills out over your hand and forearm, raining down upon the blanket beneath me, soaking the sand below. I shudder and pull you tight to me as you come against my hand and thigh, burying your face in my neck. We lie, panting, out of breath. Quiet.

I open my eyes to a sky lit up in brilliant hues of reds, pinks, golds. “Look,” I say. You roll over on your back as six pelicans fly low along the breakers, silhouetted against a venetian blind of wispy clouds. The sun is setting behind us and we sit up to watch the yellow angles fade from the rooftops. You pull me back against you and wrap your arms around me. I drink in the salt air, the richness of the colors, the long strand of deserted beach, and the sound of the waves moving in and out and in and out.

Your tongue traces a well-worn path down the nape of my neck. I reach around and grab a handful of your hair as I flip over and straddle you. I’m not ready to leave yet. It’s too beautiful. You are too perfect.