David Russell writes

An Ecstatic Rendezvous  
(Part 4)

 

Sandra went into the bedroom to do her change. As my erection began to mount, I got a thrill pulling on my trunks, feeling them vibrate around my waist. Sandra’s mirror was great. 

With shorts and singlet on, I looked gorgeously sporty -- fit and confident. In deft response, Sandra tiptoed out of the bathroom wearing a primrose-yellow beach wrap, loosely tied by a sash, which still dropped a substantial hint. 

“Let’s really relish this, darling.” We stood facing the mirror. “Now for the fabulous -- the ultimate beach party.” 

I rose up my arms, and Sandra pulled off my dark-blue singlet and, casting it aside, put her hands on my waist and let go. I put my right arm around her shoulder, my left around her waist. I undid her sash and slowly drew off the robe, over her shoulders and back. There she stood, in all her voluptuous glory, hips and breasts pulsing in her clingy black strapless one-piece, baring the radiant totality of her toned shoulders. It was like a thrill of first attraction, just like when a boy and a girl really take a fancy to each other, decide to go for a swim together, have that beautiful turn-on at the beach or at the poolside, and take a delicious foretaste of each other with clothes off -- teenage perfected in retrospect with maturity… 

“My God! You’re so breathtakingly ravishing!” I gasped in awe and ecstasy. 

“And you, my Adonis incarnate, are out of this world,” panted Sandra, touching my waist and hips, feeling the fabric, and feeling me through the fabric. “Hmm, these are really nice boxer shorts, darling. Shall I take them off?” 

Her tender hands, pulsing with desire, seemed to electrify the elastic in my shorts with a dreamy tingle. I felt quite levitated as they went down from my waist, and she pulled them down over my thighs -- hands and fabric made a lovely blend. I stepped out of them. Our pride in our bodies, and desire for each other, really lifted to the stratosphere. My trunks were a wow, and did she respond! In that light, in my mind, I was any model and film star. Sandra could have been Liz Hurley, aching to embrace me. 

My eyes turned from the mirror into her face. “Don’t I look great in trunks, darling?” 

Her eyes and lips reciprocated my move. “You look wonderful,” she breathed. 

We absolutely took our fill of admiring ourselves, and each other, in the mirror. We were lovely for each other. Our excitement and desire made us beautiful, more super than any stars or models. I whispered the names Esther and Deborah, and she got the drift. 

“Okay, Burt, Rock, and Victor, don’t we look great?” sighed Sandra. “It’s no good. We’ll have to go swimming together.” 

“You’re my bathing beauty, and I am yours,” I replied. 

“We are going to enter a couple’s beauty contest. Those enraptured eyes will be riveted on us. We will be receiving massed clapping and cheering! Then, we’ll plot an itinerary to the most exotic beaches.” 

Geometrically, theatrical, she tried all the angles in the protractor -- acute and obtuse -- in front of that riveting mirror. Sandra went wild, started dancing, making such a stately sway, raising her arms in the air high above her head, her hair swaying. I took down my blue trunks and stepped out of them to reveal the briefer ones. Her eyes lit up at the leopard-skin pattern.

“What are these, darling?” she asked breathily. “They’re even nicer than the other ones.” 

“The penultimate item in Pandora’s box,” I replied. Now coming up to the boil, I took her hand and led her to the bed. “You’re having a gorgeous sunbath among those secluded dunes, darling, immersed in reverie of your beautiful lover. I want to lie by your side, then move on top of you like we were on the shore of a deserted lagoon -- our beach and our lagoon.” At that, I unzipped her bathing suit at the back.

Like spreading flower petals, it expanded and fell to reveal her lovely, firm breasts. So, there was the double sensation of a svelte, tightly-encased body entering the body and of that body being revealed by a receding wave. She lay on her back, arms wide open. I lay down beside her and then eased on top of her. The weight of my slight body was gentle upon her. 

After a minute or so, Sandra initially reversed the role, lying on her belly on top of me. Her body felt firm upon mine. Our thighs pressed together. Then, Sandra rolled me over, and now I was back on top of her. She squeezed my thighs and sighed. 

“You’ve got really fine legs, darling. I can see your penis swelling inside your trunks. What shall we do now?” Trunks and one-piece slipped off compliantly -- full revelation at last and supremely worth the build-up.

Well, premeditatedly, I had my condoms at the ready, and with impeccable aplomb, Sandra opened the packet without tearing it and fitted one on with all the self-assured composure of experience. All of that apparent hesitancy had been carefully calculated, a skilful bit of acting, carried over convincingly into real life. 

“I see you’re always prepared, darling, as you should be. I really appreciate thoughtful men.”  

Ours was a strong but gentle love. The hardening was slow but sure, the penetration delicate. I sustained a slow-tempo, circling motion, rotating slowly to caress and arouse all the erogenous edges. She raised her shoulders and mine so that she could see my buttocks moving. 

“You’re so sensual; give yourself to me!” 

My climax was slow but rich and full through its suspension. I felt I had made a waterfall and was under it. The calm was so euphoric after the blissful intensity of the storm. Sandra detached, wiped and disposed, all with near-clinical efficiency. 

”Hmmm, you practically gave me an orgasm,” she groaned, deeply sated. “You’ve made me hungry.” Sandra stood up, put her bath robe back on, took a green apple from a bowl on the sideboard, and started munching it. She sized me up further. “When you go swimming, do you see some lovely girls in the pool?” 

“I certainly do.” 

“And do they see you?”  

“How could they not?” 

We chatted a bit longer. Just before we parted, Sandra told me that she was a formerly married -- had tied the knot too young -- and was now enjoying her newly acquired independence. So, this was the way she expanded, liberated herself, and I was helping the growth of her soul.  

“I like what I’m doing. And when once in a while I find real, reciprocated feeling, it makes everything worthwhile. As for marriage, you might call it a bout of transient fever. Then it went stone cold, and all the sweetness turned sour. I had to detach myself from its aftermath. Maybe I’ll enter something long-term again, but only when I’m good and ready. However, to me you honestly do feel rather exceptional. It really is a good job we both agreed in advance that this was to be a one-off. You’re the most beautiful man that’s ever made love to me. If it got any closer, I don’t know if I could ever let you go. The most beautiful can be the most hazardous, the most vicious. But you really put out a vibe of peace and gentleness. I hope I have enlightened you, initiated you. Now you must go on and enrich your experience. I must go on enlightening the masses!” 

We kissed and parted.