Smut by the Sea

by Lucy Felthouse

  “Oops,” Tom chuckled as a drop dripped onto Skye’s chest. “You’ll be needing some help cleaning that up.”

  He immediately lowered his head to her chest, never breaking eye contact. Not even when his tongue darted out to lap at her skin. They groaned in unison, Skye’s knees trembling. Was this really happening? Was she allowing him to touch her like this when she had no idea what his surname was?

  The air was humid, causing her shoulder-length hair to stick to the back of her neck. Not that she cared. If this went the way she was hoping both of them would be sweaty soon.

  “I-I came to tell you I’m leaving,” she whispered on a gasp, her fingers toying with the scarf that tied his white dreadlocks up.

  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “Well, what then?”

  Refusing to answer, Tom smeared more ice cream across her chest, pushing the strap of her vest off her shoulder as he went. A yelp of protest caught in her throat, though it swiftly morphed into a sigh of pleasure when his tongue followed the cool path.

  His hand skimmed up her side and hovered just over her breast. Mentally she begged him, desperate for his touch but she couldn’t force herself to be that demanding.

  “Shall I stop?” he asked, his lips caressing her collarbone as he spoke.

  Mustering the courage and going for what she wanted, Skye shook her head and placed her hand on top of Tom’s. She pressed it to her tightly, her eyes fluttering closed when his fingers moulded around her.

  Muffled cheering filled the silence and swallowed up her moan. The party on the beach had obviously started. Skye didn’t care because at that moment Tom was teasing her nipple through the cotton of her vest top and seconds later her lips crashed into his.

  He tasted of tutti-fruiti and minty chocolate. Skye sagged, humming into his mouth. Tom’s lips devoured hers as the crowd grew louder. His tongue slid against hers, his hand squeezing her boob and making it clear where he wanted this to lead.

  “You taste of ice cream,” she whispered as he peppered kisses along her jaw.

  “And I know how much you like that,” he replied, grinning.

  His eyes dropped to her breasts, her abdomen tightening in response. Emboldened by the hunger reflected at her, she shimmied a little, making them shake in the confines of her top.

  “I’ve been consumed by dirty thoughts of you for days now, but with your tits tantalising me like that you make it difficult to think beyond the next ten minutes.”

  He cleared his throat, shaking his head. Skye stared at him, her hand on her cocked hip. He was taking too long, allowing doubt to set in and she didn’t want that. She’d much rather be carried away by lust. Regrets could come later.

  “Then don’t. Just do whatever is in your mind right now.”

  “You wouldn’t want that, Skye. You’re a good girl.”

  His deep, seductive tone had her panties dampening. His thoughts were clearly not of the missionary position and she spoke before she could stop herself. “Not as much as you might think. Tell me.”

  “Those,” he replied pointing at her chest. “My mouth goes dry every time you move.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded, lifting his hand so that the tip of his finger hit the swell of her flesh. “Yes.” His finger trailed along the edge of her top. “I could make you feel so much from just touching these, Skye. Remember how my lips felt on yours? Imagine them sucking on your nipples?”

  Skye looked around nervously, but was well aware that no one could see them. This was between him and her. It always would be. A memory that she could revisit when her life grew stagnant.

  Tom’s words were explicit, and caused her whole body to burn for him.

  “D-do you want me, Tom?”

  She was mentally hoping he’d say yes, because she’d been dreaming about him pinning her down, entering her swiftly and fucking her so harshly her throat would hurt for days from crying out. Total dominance had her bones liquefying.

  Nodding, he slipped his hand up into her top. She gasped as he palmed her needy flesh, pressing herself into his hand. “Don’t doubt it.”

  “Then show me. Stop waiting,” she demanded, pulling up her vest to expose her other breast.

  Tom’s fingers instantly shifted to toy with her nipples, bestowing quick pinches that made her hiss. Her sex clenched, arousal seeping onto her panties. Her heartbeat thumped in time with the pulsing bass from the DJ, heightening her senses further.

  “Are you really sure?” Tom asked, releasing her nipple so that he could trail his hand down to the button of her shorts.

  “Stop asking.”

  She held her breath, waiting for him to unfasten them. Instead, he pressed his palm flat against her stomach, sliding the tips of his fingers underneath the waistband and stepped closer as his hand disappeared into her shorts.

  “Are you wet, Skye? Aroused by the things we’re doing?” He crooned.

  “Please. Touch me.”

  His fingers slid along her slit, but he was hindered by her knickers. She whimpered when he tore his hand away and dropped to his knees. It swiftly turned into a gasp of surprise when he ripped her shorts down in one swift pull; her underwear following right after.

  Skye opened her mouth, ready to tell him to put his fingers on her. She didn’t get a chance. Tom’s tongue licked along her sex, slipping inside only slightly to taste her juices. His hum of satisfaction sent vibrations right to her clit, making her wetter than before.

  She’d never allowed anyone to touch her like this, to put their mouth on such an intimate part of her body, but it seemed so right that Tom would be her first. He always would be, and that would never change, even when her life did.

  Dispersing her thoughts, Tom parted her folds, blowing across the slick flesh in front of him. Skye sighed, swirling her hips as her hand clawed at the wall for purchase. She didn’t give their surroundings a second thought. Tom was all her body could focus on, his fingers, his lips…his tongue.

  On that thought he delivered one long, slow lick to her pussy. He started deep between her thighs, almost touching her pussy, before sweeping up to her clit. She thrust her hips against his face, hoping he clued into the fact that she was needy for more.

  “No, no,” he teased, wagging his finger and standing up. “I have other plans.”

  Tom quickly unbuckled his belt. The beach crowd cheered, but she was entranced by Tom, watching him wrap his hand around his cock as he pulled it from the confines of his shorts. The head glistened with his seed, and as Tom flicked his thumb across it, Skye licked her lips. She hadn’t tasted a man before but she wanted to now.

  Tom continued to play with the engorged head of his cock, swirling his thumb across the tip.

  “Should we stop, Skye?”

  She whimpered “no” before he’d finished the sentence. He snorted.

  “On your knees then. I want your lips around my dick.”

  Skye’s knees grew weak at his candid words. She couldn’t move her gaze from his groin. He pumped his erection with slow, deliberate strokes, her hand moving down to touch herself.

  “Don’t,” he growled, stopping her descent. “I’m going to make you come, not your fingers. Now, on your knees.”

  She complied, settling between his legs. He gripped his cock, bringing it to her mouth and skimming the head along her lower lip. She licked, tasting the first burst of his fluid, before circling her tongue around the whole tip.

  Tom tossed his head back, hitting the wall cupboard behind him. “Oh, Skye.”

  Taking him deeper into her mouth, she slid her tongue along the underside of his burgeoning cock. She’d been initially anxious about doing this, but the moment his saltiness had hit her taste buds, instinct had taken over. His balls began to tighten, even more so when she raked her nails along the skin, and she swiftly learned he enjoyed the way she hummed around him.

  Tom cursed, gripping her hair harshly and pulling her further onto his erection. He guided her
, slowing her down when she bobbed too quickly and teaching her what he liked.

  “Christ, Skye, watching you suck me off is so damn sexy.” She hummed in response. “Seeing my dick disappear into your mouth and feeling it hit the back of your throat is making me lose my shit.”

  Skye slid her lips along his erection, gazing her teeth slightly on his hardness.

  “Do you want to come in my mouth, Tom?” She boldly asked, looking up at him from her position on the floor.

  “Your dirty talk is extremely sexy,” he responded, cupping her chin. “Something I don’t think you do often.”

  “Never.” She lapped at the pad of his thumb, sucking when he slid it into her mouth. His dick twitched, bobbing in front of her face.

  “Play with your tits. Play with them while I fuck your mouth.”

  She smiled shyly, feeling a blush raise up her neck and cheeks. Her shyness didn’t stop her engulfing his cock again, though. She sucked him in, sliding up and down at a tantalising pace. Her fingers tweaked her nipples gently, rolling them between her thumb and finger, and his eager reaction told her he liked what he saw.

  “Touch yourself,” he demanded, pulling his dick from her mouth. “Tell me how wet I made you by fucking your mouth.”

  Skye swallowed, nerves simmering on the surface. Her anxiety told her to walk away now, but a strong voice overrode that one, demanding she take what she’d come here for. She could beat down the nerves.

  Moving her hand lower, she parted her folds, opening her legs further to make sure Tom could see what she was doing. Not that he was looking. Instead, he cupped her breasts and thrust his dick between them. His hands trembled, his eyes closed and short gasps of pleasure exited his mouth as he used her cleavage to pump his erection.

  Although she was shocked at what she was allowing him to do, she had to admit watching his dick slide along between her tits was the hottest thing she’d seen and her clit was swelling in response.

  “Talk to me,” he panted. “Tell me how good that feels.”

  She was struck dumb, her swirling fingers and his thrusting erection overloading her senses. The sounds of the beach crowd mingled with their panting and gasping. His balls slapped against her abdomen, the head of his dick pushing at the hollow of her throat as he increased his speed.

  Her fingers dipped into her pussy, her thighs quaking in response. The more furious he became, the faster her fingers moved. Both of them were racing toward orgasm; this time neither one of them was able to hold back. Skye clutched at Tom’s thigh for support, lowering her head so that she could lap at the tip of his dick.

  Tom grunted.

  He gave two sharp thrusts, and Skye lifted her head as he covered her chest with his seed. Her fingers didn’t miss a beat, continuing to rub her clit, needing her own orgasm. However, at the exact moment her abdomen started to spasm Tom pushed her flat on the floor. She was trying to catch her breath when he forced her legs open and his mouth met her swollen sex.

  “Oh, yes!” she shouted, thrusting her hips against his face, embarrassment forgotten.

  His tongue probed, before swirling around her swollen nub; the slight stubble on his chin only intensified the sensations.

  She became impatient, grasping his hair and rubbing herself wantonly against his mouth. He chuckled, spearing his fingers into her and licking her until she screamed. Her muscles clamped down on his fingers, her hips bucking as she came against his lips but he didn’t stop. He continued eating at her flesh until she begged for mercy.

  He flopped next to her, moving a stray strand of hair from where it fell across her face.

  “Too much?” Tom question, placing a kiss on her temple.

  Skye laughed, enjoying the way her skin tingled with aftershocks.

  “Not at all. In truth, it was just the kind of goodbye I wanted. Perfect.”

  He moved away from her, holding his hand out to help her up. They cleaned up and dressed quickly, only now worried that the shutter hadn’t lowered all the way down. There was a good chance people had heard them. They had been reckless, but Skye wasn’t about to regret it. This was exactly why she’d come to Brighton and no one could take the memories away from her.

  “Do I get a kiss?” he asked, uncertainty lacing his tone.

  Skye moved into his embrace, their lips meeting in a slow, languid kiss as his arm banded around her.

  “How long until you leave?” he said, retying his messy dreads up.

  Sadly, she gazed down at her watch. “I have about forty minutes before the taxi comes.”

  “And that’s taking you where?”

  They crossed the road, coming to a standstill outside the bed and breakfast. Her landlady waved from her position in the window, making it clear she approved. Skye found it difficult to focus as her body was still buzzing from the orgasm and every time he touched her she shivered. “I can’t tell you that, Tom. This is all we can have.”

  He grimaced. “Suppose I should have made my move sooner.”

  She pushed at his shoulder, laughing when he hugged her close. “I came to you!”

  “Then you should have come on to me sooner,” he whispered in her ear.

  Skye had anticipated awkwardness, had expected the shame to resurface but he was being so affectionate it was difficult holding on to those feelings.

  “It’s not something I’d usually do,” she murmured seriously.

  Tom cupped her cheek, kissing her lips with a gentle thoroughness that virtually melted her bones. She sighed, resting her head on his chest.

  “I know, and just so you know, it’s not my usual way of meeting a woman either.”

  “Good.”

  Skye wasn’t completely sure why that mattered but it did. Knowing he didn’t do it regularly made her feel better.

  “I don’t want to leave it here, but you need to sort out your belongings, I assume.”

  Nodding, she gripped onto his t-shirt and pulled him into a long, lingering kiss. It had her toes curling and her lust burning for more of what they’d shared.

  “Thank you, Tom,” she whispered against his lips and pulled away.

  “Saying you’re welcome doesn’t seem appropriate, so I’ll just tell you to look me up if you ever come back.”

  Tears hovered on the tips of her lashes, her voice shaky and low. “I still have one flavour to try.”

  “Yes, you do.” He kissed the tip of her nose, wiping a tear from her cheek as he took a step backward. “Goodbye, Skye.”

  Her lips wobbled and the tears fell, marring the sight of Tom crossing back over the road and disappearing into the crowd. It was over. Within the next hour she would be back wearing the rigid, straight jacket that was her life and all of this would be nothing more than a dream. She told herself that it could be worse; at least she’d experienced this part of herself, but as she gathered her clothes and token souvenirs the panic set in.

  A spontaneous plan started to bloom, one she buried at first. However, when the horn beeped outside, telling her time was up, the plan re-emerged. Mrs. Kepler hugged her, asking her to come back soon. Skye could only nod in agreement. Numbness swamped her, her thoughts stuck on a loop.

  I can’t go back. I can’t go back.

  She climbed into the taxi, wiping her eyes and reaching for her mobile phone. She’d text them, tell them she was returning. The trouble was, as the taxi pulled away from the curb, her fingers simply wouldn’t type the declaration. Instead, they began to form a message of their own, and she bellowed for the driver to stop.

  The bald man frowned, pulling up at the side of the road when he could. “Are you okay?” he asked, but she wasn’t listening.

  Skye flung open the taxi door, pulling her suitcase with her. She left her mobile phone in the taxi, sending that one final text.

  I’m sorry. I can’t.

  Communing with Mighty Neptune

  By Cynthia Rayne

  Paying tribute to a pagan god is never an easy task. It’s not like a simple Christian c
eremony where you have to go to the local church, pray, and you’re all set. No, there’s always a ritual that needs to be translated from some archaic language. Then, there is the obscure ingredient list. Of course, the ritual must be done at just the right time on just the right night. And then there’s the outfit that must be worn or, rather, lack of outfit.

  That might explain why I was I was bare-assed on a moonlit beach at midnight in late spring. Thank goodness for private little inlets. I’m not an exhibitionist. I don’t even walk around my apartment naked. Those wacky pagans like to do things in the buff to celebrate the body and glorify nature. Not that I don’t like nature, but I prefer to be fully clothed when I go out into it. But what the hell did I know, anyway? I’m Episcopalian and we’re not known for naked picnics or church socials.

  At least I was in Florida. It was reasonably warm but it was still only 70 degrees and that feels a hell of a lot colder when you’re naked. Believe me. It could be worse though. I looked fabulous. My long hair was unbound and it flowed around me like some kind of flowing red dress. I always liked my red hair. It wasn’t that carrot-like color, it was deep, a wine red almost. And despite the cold I looked good. Unlike a man, a woman’s body was enhanced by cold weather. It made my skin whiter and pebbled my nipples.

  My friends would have howled with laughter if they could see me doing a naked ritual. Sometimes, I felt older than twenty-one. At the very least, more mature than my friends. Not that I spend my days thinking deep thoughts but I’d grown up quickly. Being in college can sometimes extend adolescence but I think it made me a better person. It changed my view of the world. After all, the wonderful world of nature religions was now open to me. Sarcasm aside, the ritual was very serious to me.

  I made my little circle of sea salt, lit my candles, and brought my offerings, which included sweet honey and fresh milk - as in straight from the cow fresh. What Neptune needed with milk and honey was beyond me. Especially when you consider that, as instructed, I poured all of it into a hole I’d dug in the sand. It seemed like a waste. I did my little chant, broke the circle by stepping out of it, and proceeded to the ocean. I was down to the really iffy part of the whole ritual.