Nis 15

Spring Fling

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Spring Fling: The Woman’s Perspective

Who vacations at the beach without buying a bathing suit first? I do. Or did, rather. I had everything else planned for my week in the sun: condo, car rental, list of rated restaurants, list of things to see and do if I ever got my butt off the beach. But I hadn’t found the right bathing suit. I looked at dozens, but none seemed the right color and the right style. Women know what I’m talking about. Men just buy a pair of baggy shorts in whatever color is in stock and they’re out the door in ten minutes. Not us. We have to think about cuts, cup sizes, nipple coverage (wet AND dry) and more.

So there I was, two hours after my plane landed, trying on three different bathing suits in the usual cute but over priced island boutique when a breath-taking specimen of the male species came up behind me and asked if he could use the dressing room–the only one in the tiny shop. I was about to say “no”, because I hadn’t decided on my own suit, but he was soooooo good looking and seemed nice, to boot, so I went into Level One flirt mode and offered to share. Mr. Gorgeous thanked me and offered an unsolicted opinion as he slipped past, an opinion about the coral-colored bandau twist suit I had in my right hand.

“Good color”.

“Thanks. It’s a one-piece. I may be too old for a bikini.”

I practically bit my tongue at the spontaneous admission of age–something women should NEVER do–but it didn’t seem to faze Mr. Six-Foot-Threee. I don’t know what would faze him, because his shorts dropped, he stepped into his suit and he kept talking all the while about the dangers of being too critical. I hardly heard him because I had a vision about what was swinging behind the swinging door and because I was still focused on my age gaffe and miscellaneous half-thoughts and half-truths about how I usually manage to torpedo myself before I get out of the harbor. No wonder I hadn’t had many shipboard romances. Just call me “Ms. Lusitania”. Back on land I tried to concentrate on the Mystery Man’s bathing suit when he opened the swinging dressing room door. I tried but I failed. His body was just too damn interesting. I caught myself after a second and gave him a thumbs down. The pattern was something that should only be worn by a guy who begins too many sentences with “Dude”.

Off he went to look at other suits, oblivious to his clothes and the fact that he was wearing only a bathing suit among strangers. I, meanwhile, had come to the conclusion that I was foolish to be flirting with this good-looking who probably had to fight women off. In fact, I drew myself up an extra half-inch in indignation at the thought of it, quickly paid for my coral colored suit before hitting the door. The suit was okay. Over-priced but okay. At least I had one. I left.

“He” came running out of the shop with a bag flying horizontal, tucking bills in his wallet.

“Hey!!! Wait up!”

The moment seemed like a cliched film scene, but this was real kaçak bahis siteleri and I was the star. Star-like, I raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

“Thanks for stopping. I..uh….I’m a little out of breath and a little unsure what to say…but well, I just got here and I don’t know anyone on this island and..well, I was wondering if I could buy you lunch?”

I wondered what Audrey Hepburn would have said. I said “No thanks”.

Mr. Perfect became Mr Disappointed in a tenth of a second. In that tenth of a second I saw something real, something good, something that said maybe this wasn’t a Ladies Man. I backtracked and smiled.

“What about Dutch?”

The phrase seemed dated and I wished I’d used another, but at least he understood. And introduced himself. And smiled.

“Great. I’m Ben. Ben__________”

I introduced myself and as I did, I had the distinct impression that a ride was begining. I flashed back to an old amusement park ride where the last safety bar clicks in place with that hollow “Thwunk” sound and the cars lurch forward. We lurched forward, too. Pretty gracefully, though. We had good food, good talk, sunshine, time and just the right amount of flirting to make me think this could go somewhere “if”. If things continued as nicely as they were; if Ben didn’t reveal something stupid and awful that showed he was into Scientology or a racist or something that was a drop-dead deal-killer then and there.

But he didn’t. We had a great lunch, walked around, shopped a little for some souvenirs and postcards, walked to the beach and along the water and made plans to meet for dinner. Yes, dinner. It was all too fast, but this was vacation, and I was having a great time getting to know this–apparently–great guy. Ben was warm, funny and giddy over the fact that his eighty-hour weeks were behind him and a new veternary job began in ten days, a job in a clinic where nobody worked more than fifty hours a week.

Two hours later, as I was putting lipstick on, the face in the mirror kept raising doubts. Was this a relationship with a capital “R” or something where the boy went back to Boston and the girl went back to Madison or Indianapolis or wherever? I felt like there was a neon sign flashing in my head that read “Warning: Shipboard Romance” It was so real I half expected the abandon ship horn to sound. But nothing happened. I stared back at the person in the mirror looking for answers. She didn’t have one. All she did was sigh and walk out the door.

We had a great meal and a great evening, but we were both tired. By 9:30 we were trying to hide our yawns so we called it a night. And while the perfect night might have ended with great sex, this night ended with a kiss and a hug, and another kiss and another hug and the promise of more kisses and more hugs tomorrow. And right there right then for me…it was perfect.

The next day went past so quickly it was like we were on Fast Forward. Ben came by at 9:30 and we went off canlı bahis siteleri to a small-time bay that featured big-time snorkeling. We checked out the coral and each other. Ben was interested in the coral and the fish, but he also checked me out a time or two or three or four. Secretly I was pleased. My coral-colored bathing suit was holding its own against real coral.

We ate lunch at a great spot overlooking the bay, but the food wasn’t great. It was awful, actually, but not a total loss. Ben and I played footsie and fed each other a couple pieces of fruit. Later on we napped on beach towels in the shade of a banyan tree. Or maybe it was a Strangler Fig tree. Okay. I don’t know what it was, but I do know that swimming makes me tired and I slept. Holding hands with Ben.

Later on Ben dropped me off at my condo. He tagged along on the excuse that we still hadn’t decided what to do tonight and when. That’s when it started getting good. The door hadn’t been closed for sixty seconds before we ended up in an embrace. Ben tasted so good when I kissed him that I started getting wet. Or maybe it was his hand firmly caressing the small of my back. I felt that old familiar melting sensation deep inside as he caressed my back, and my sides and my cloth-covered butt. It was too early for sex in any normal relationship, but somehow this place, this guy, this time…well, it was under serious consideration.

We fell on the bed and kissed some more, then articles of clothing began dropping on the floor as soon as one of us could be bothered to free a hand to unbutton a shirt or kick off a sandal.

We remained in our bathing suits for a few minutes out of modesty, but modesty doesn’t last long when someone’s hands are beneath your bathing suit pulling your ass cheeks every which way and sucking your exposed nipples erect.

I can’t remember who lost their bathing suit first, but each of us ended up naked about the same time and both of us ripped off the bedspread and blanket. Joined again in a passionate embrace, we sucked each other’s lips and tongues, then moved on to other body parts. I got an ear and a neck. He got an arm and a shoulder. I got a chest. He got a chest. I got a nipple. He got a nipple. And a breast, then the other breast. Then I got a stomach. Then he got a stomach. Then I got a beautiful crimson-tipped penis in my hand and he got his tongue in me. I kissed my way around his soft tip and he licked me deeply, so I licked him and took his warmth in my mouth, swirling my lips around his throbbing, sea-salty dick. He moaned. I moaned louder. My lips slipped back and forth across the ridge on the head of his penis and I tickled the very tip of his manhood with my tongue. In response, Ben mashed his face against my wet vagina and stuck his tongue as far up inside me as it could go. I wiggled lower to get every possible millimeter of that lively, twitching thing inside me. I think I even tried using my vaginal muscles to suck Ben’s tongue inside yasal bahis siteleri me, but it didn’t work. His tongue retreated and he began sucking my labia. I spread my legs wide to give him uttermost access. Ben sucked each little flap of skin again and again and again. I returned his minstrations in kind, swirling and sucking my way along his shaft and balls, taking each one gently in my mouth. I continued by tickling the base of his shaft with my tongue, working my way between his tensing ass cheeks. He did the same for me, moaning in delight as he rubbed his cheeks against mine. Or maybe he was moaning because my lips had returned to his dick and I was sucking him once again. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the pleasure we were feeling, the closeness, the intimacy of each other’s arms.

Amidst my swirling thoughts, Ben lifted me up on all fours. He kissed his way down my back and massaged my sides with his hands, then slipped his palms beneath me to massage my breasts and gently tease my nipples. Little stars went off before my eyes when Ben toyed with one nipple while stroking my clitoris with his other hand. It was my turn to moan again, and moan I did. Loudly and long, and louder still when two of his fingers cradled my clitoris deliciously and rubbed me dangerously close to the begining of an orgasm. Animal sounds escaped me when I felt the tip of Ben’s dick at the entrance to my wet and waiting folds. Just to tease me, Ben left just the tip of his penis inside me, moving back when I attempted to push back and engulf him. Feeling just the tip was frustrating and he knew it. But it was frustrating for him, too, and it wasn’t long before I felt his warm piston slip deeper in me, pushing aside the vaginal walls that tried so hard to contract around the firm invader.

Inch by inch Ben slipped into me until I felt the base of his penis grind hard against me. We turned and shifted position, him on top. I ground back against him in ecstasy, reveling in the way my clitoris tingled at the contact. I screamed silently with pleasure as Ben withdrew, then plunged deeply into me once again. I grabbed his ass to force him deeper, then he reached beneath me and did the same, holding our bodies tight for an extra moment ot savor the bliss of deepest penetration. We repeated the motion again and again…and again..and when the waves of pleasure picked me up and took me on to orgasm, I was more than willing. My pleasure grew and grew, and I wanted to prolong that feeling forever, yet also experience the delicious moments of orgasm and total release. I tried to hold back, but then I heard Ben’s cry of orgasm and felt his hot sperm shoot deep inside me. I gave in to the lust and the yearning in my soul and felt my insides contract on their own. Warmth flooded through me and I cried out in delight as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through me. I gushed wetness, I cried out, I squeezed my legs, I sucked in great unladylike gulps of air. And from this great height I began my slow descent, unlocking my legs from Ben and letting my arched body fall back to the mattress, letting my body go limp.

I opened my eyes to find Ben looking at me in delight. He laughed and shook his head in mazement.

“Welcome back to earth.”

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