Smut by the Sea

by Lucy Felthouse

  “What flavours?” she murmured, her voice trembling with an aroused flutter.

  “Coconut and pineapple,” he whispered in her ear as he placed a dollop of the pineapple ice-cream on her other nipple.

  A veritable tropical sundae, she thought as she let the icy coolness hit her and felt her nipple stiffen with a mixture of icy pain and sensual pleasure. Darren held her gently by the shoulders and leant his head forward. Oh my god, she thought, he’s going to lick it off. Now her cunt really was aching. His tongue reached out and licked gently across her hard nipple. She could feel the rough touch of his tongue amongst the cream texture of the ice-cream and it felt so good. His tongue was all over her, licking around her aureole, flicking across her nipple and then nipping her gently with his teeth. He gave the same attention to her other one whilst Keeley gasped and moaned with pleasure until all the ice-cream had been licked off and her nipples stood proud, wet with the moisture of Darren’s exploring tongue.

  This was sensational. She had never expected this unassuming seaside town to provide her with an experience of such unadulterated sensual pleasure. Now it was Darren’s turn. She furiously untied the cord around his swim shorts, loosened them and pulled them over his lovely slim hips and backside until they fell onto the floor. His cock sprung up, hard and erect. His eyes widened in excitement and anticipation. Keeley cast her eye across the rows of stainless steel containers full with mounds of the delicious ice-cream. Hmmm, she thought, what flavour do I fancy? She wanted a contrast to the chocolatey, orange, tiramisu flavours that still lingered in her mouth. Yes, that was it. She picked an ice-cream scoop and half filled it with a pale ice-cream with just a hint of yellow and flecks of a brighter buttercup colour. She emptied the contents of the scoop onto the end of Darren’s raging hard cock. The icy cold hit the tip of his erection and he gasped with the sensation.

  “What flavour?” he gasped.

  “Limone,” she whispered sexily in his ear.

  “Shit Key, you really ought to learn Italian you know,” he smiled.

  She ran her hand from the tip of his cock along the length of his shaft spreading a thin layer of the ice-cream along the bulging veins of its surface. He groaned with the sexy touch. She got down on her knees and ran her tongue along the length of his member reaching the tip and flicking her tongue across the little hole at its end. The taste of was sensational. She wanted it all in her mouth now; every bit of throbbing hard flesh and each morsel of creamy lemon ice-cream. She took the whole tip of his cock into her mouth and flicked her tongue all over it.

  “Oh shit Key, that’s ecstasy,” Darren moaned.

  She ran her lips up and down the shaft, slowly and sensuously at first but then gradually increasing the speed of her movements until her head was bobbing up and down sucking on Darren’s penis. It was a strange combination of the throbbing warmth of the hot flesh of his cock and the cooling, refreshing flavour of the tangy ice-cream. She didn’t bring him to climax but he was so close his hips were twisting with pleasure in her hands as her lips moved up and down his shaft.

  As she pulled her mouth away from his cock he moaned with pleasure. She got up from her knees with a broad grin on her face. It felt great to be able to give that much pleasure to somebody. But, Darren wasn’t finished yet. He slipped his fingers into Keeley’s bikini bottoms and sensuously teased her by running them inside, brushing across the sensitive skin so deliciously close to her sex. He started to pull the bottoms down and Keeley helped him by pushing them to her ankles and wriggling out of them. She stood in front of him entirely naked, aside from the mischievous sandals that had got them into this predicament. This was crazy, she thought. Here she was stark naked in an ice-cream parlour just feet away from the promenade. But she knew there was no turning back now. Darren had moved one of the chrome chairs into position and guided her gently down into it. Keeley offered no resistance. She knew it was her turn to get some pleasure and was confident Darren would oblige. She sank her arse back onto the leatherette seat and rested her arms on its chrome frame, and waited expectantly.

  Darren picked up one of the metal ice-cream scoops and ran its smooth, curved surface up her arms, across her shoulders and along her breasts. Her bronzed flesh tingled with the coolness and the smooth metallic surface against her. He ran it across the smooth flawless skin of her midriff and then ran it across the top of her mound where she had shaved earlier this morning. The cool metal felt and looked so erotic, she had never experienced a sensation quite like it. She sank deep down into the chair expelling little gasps as the rounded metal ran across her mound. God her cunt was wet, so wet. Darren turned around and leant back over the humming refrigerator unit. He emerged again this time with a mound of ice-cream in the metal scoop. It was a pastel shade of pink.

  “A scoop of fragola for madam,” he whispered.

  “Oooh yes, yes please,” she gasped as the cold ice-cream dropped onto her mound. It plopped down right on top of her cunt lips. The cold made her wriggle and squirm but after the initial shock she could feel the ice-cream soften and melt at the edges.

  “Would madam like some strawberry sauce with that?”

  “God yes,” she squealed in ecstasy.

  Darren held the plastic bottle over her and squeezed a trail of sticky, sugary strawberry syrup over the ice-cream.

  “And some nuts?”

  “Fuck, yes.”

  Darren sprinkled some chopped nuts on top of the ice-cream and sauce.

  “There we are madam, one strawberry sundae. But, my word madam, that looks good enough to eat.”

  “Yes, eat it, eat it, every bite, please,” Keeley pleaded as Darren got onto his knees and plunged his face into her crotch.

  He hungrily devoured the ice-cream, spreading it all over his face and working it down between her cunt lips. Keeley squirmed in the chair, gripping tightly onto its arms and gasping in ecstasy as Darren’s tongue licked its way all around her shaven mound and across her aching lips. He parted them to work his tongue into her, licking up every drop of the ice-cream, sauce and nut mixture as he went until he found what he was looking for; her aching clit. He massaged it with his tongue. It was an awesome sensation, the chill of the ice-cream the stickiness of the strawberry syrup and the occasional chopped nut pushed against her bud as Darren licked and sucked and nipped at her clit. It was too much for her and the whole sticky, sexy sensation sent her over the edge. Her hips bucked and twisted and she came with a loud scream of pleasure. She was beyond caring whether anybody on the street could hear her. Darren didn’t stop. Her continued to bury his mouth and tongue into her pussy and every exquisite lick and bite sent further waves of orgasm bucking through her.

  It took her a while to recover her breath and composure. She sat panting in the chair savouring the sheer erotic delight of the full Italian gelato experience. But now it was his turn. She eased herself out of the chair and manoeuvred Darren down into it. His cock stood up, rigid and hard. It looked gorgeous and she was going to give him an ice-cream experience he’d never had before.

  “You’ve been a good boy,” she smiled, “so I think I’m going to treat you.” She picked a metal scoop up and cast her eyes across the coloured mounds of ice-cream, “Hmm, what flavour? I know just the thing, the classic Italian ice-cream, pistachio.”

  She plunged the scoop into the pastel green mound of ice-cream covered with chopped nuts. She held the scoop over his crotch and looked him in the eye with a wicked gaze and then released the scoop of ice-cream onto his cock. He gasped and wriggled in the chair, gripping tightly onto the arms just as she had done.

  “Hmm, I think we’ll have some whipped cream on that,” she said and squirted oodles of cream from an aerosol can, “and some chocolate sauce,” as she squeezed a stream of syrupy brown sauce onto the ice-cream. “Oh, and some hundreds and thousands to decorate.” She took a handful of the multi-coloured sugar strands and sprinkled them over the ice-cream and chocolate sauce.

  Darren looked to be in
ecstasy as he looked down on his erect cock smothered in the combination of ice-cream, cream, chocolate sauce and sugar strands.

  “Oh dear sir, I don’t think I can leave you like that.”

  Keeley got onto her knees and plunged her mouth over the whole creamy chocolatey mess on the end of his cock and buried the hard shaft and its trimmings. She licked and sucked like she’d never done before, thrusting her lips up and down his shaft. He gripped the back of Keeley’s head and she pumped vigorously up and down, groaning in ecstasy.

  “Oh that’s magic Key, that’s amazing. I can’t hold back any longer….”

  Keeley didn’t care. She had the cold creamy, chocolatey mixture in her mouth, why not add a wad of thick spunk to it as well. She bobbed up and down faster and faster until with a loud groan he came into her mouth. For Keeley it felt wonderful, the salty thick spunk mingling with the sweet mixture that was already there. She carried on sucking and licking to squeeze every drop of cum out of Darren’s cock and licked every morsel of the ice-cream sundae mixture off his penis to his ecstatic moans.

  They looked into each other’s eyes with an exhausted and satisfied gaze of lust and sexual gratification. That was something else. Darren was well and truly forgiven for his choice of weekend destination and it just went to show you could get extremes of sexual pleasure from any place with a bit of imagination.

  It was then they heard a bump and some movement behind the door.

  “Shit,” she whispered, “there’s somebody there.”

  The door opened and a well-dressed elderly Italian man stood silhouetted in its frame.

  By then Keeley had time to hastily pull on her dress but hadn’t done the zip up fully so her tits were practically hanging out. Darren had got his shorts on and his shirt but hadn’t had time to do up the buttons.

  “Oh, we’re terribly sorry; we appear to have got left behind on the last tour and got locked in. We’re very sorry. We didn’t know what to do,” Darren mumbled in extreme embarrassment.

  Keeley chuckled. He really did look and sound like a ten year old boy who had got caught doing something naughty. At first Keeley thought they were in big trouble but as the man advanced she caught the knowing and amused glint in his eye. Her bikini top and bottom were still tossed haphazardly on the floor and her face, well, that was still smothered with traces of pistachio ice-cream, cream and chocolate sauce.

  “Hey, you a-young-a people of today,” he laughed, “you bring-a back some happy memories for me. But young lady, you betta put some knickers on and clean-a yourself up because if you go out like that, you’ll get-a yourself arrested!”

  They headed to the wash room with guilty but satisfied smiles across their faces. As Keeley walked past she turned to him with a broad grin across her face, “Can I just say Mr Danatoni…you make damned fine ice-cream!”

  Swashbuckling

  By Lily Harlem

  Ale frothed over the rim of the glass and trickled in sticky dribbles onto my fingers. “There you go, Captain,” I said, setting the brimming drink on the bar.

  The captain of The Magpie let his dark gaze slide down my face, over the column of my neck and onto the rise of my jauntily displayed breasts. “Thank you, Matilda, we always get a fine welcome at your inn.” He tilted the right side of his mouth into a self-assured smile.

  “Food and ale will always await you here after a long journey, Captain Roberto.”

  “And a long journey it has been.” He set his hat on the bar and took a slug of ale. I studied the red bandana he wore, knowing it held back a mass of coal-black hair filled with bright trinkets, beads and charms.

  When he set his drink down, a line of foam sat on his short moustache. He wiped it away with the back of his sleeve.

  The bar was busy and I knew I should move on, serve more customers, more of his men. But there was something about Captain Roberto that always had my insides heating whenever he frequented The Gifford Inn. He was darkly dangerous, his smile as enticing as it was forbidden, and his eyes were full of sin; hot black sin that promised more than a girl like me could ever imagine.

  My father, of course, hated him, only tolerated him and his men in our inn because he feared the consequences of turning them away. On more than one occasion he’d told me not to linger near him and not to wear the dress I had on tonight; the one that nipped in my waist and a neckline so low sometimes the very first upper circle of my nipple accidently peeked out.

  I began filling another glass. “So where did you go?” I asked.

  “Ah, pretty lady, that would be telling,”

  “So tell.” I gave a flirty smile.

  He laughed. “Near to my homeland.”

  “Which is?”

  “Past the big rock that sits at the base of Española, the land that is rich with jewels and gold and silver coins and everything else my men need when we are at sea.”

  “You were trading?”

  “Trading on our terms.” He laughed and so did one of his men standing at his side.

  As they guffawed my heart beat faster. I had a very good idea what they were talking about. They’d traded by sparing lives to take treasure. Filled The Magpie with loot that was not theirs.

  I glanced out the window, the light was fading but the mast of their huge wooden ship could still be made out against the lilac sky. “And where is your stock? Have you traded it already?”

  Captain Roberto’s smile dropped and he leaned over, hooked his index finger under my chin and tilted my face to his. “And why would you need to know that?” His voice was low and dangerous, it made my knees weak and my gut clench.

  “Just curious,” I said, “I happen to like pretty, sparkly things and wondered if you had anything other than food, rigging and weapons left on board that would please me.”

  “And why would we want weapons?” His eyes flashed and I couldn’t tell if he was amused by my question or angered.

  But I was feeling bold so continued, “In case you meet pirates, Captain. You would surely need to protect yourself from their evil ways.”

  “Ah, yes.” He ran his hand around my cheek, catching his fingertips in the wild red ringlets that bounced around my ear. “Of course, and it is very clever of you to think of that.”

  I was falling, I swear, actually falling into his bottomless eyes,

  “Clever, loyal girls deserve rewards,” he said quietly. “You are always here waiting for me, Matilda. When I return to Southampton I never fail to see your pretty face. For that maybe I could find a little sparkly something for you.”

  “You could?”

  “Yes,” he lowered his voice, he was so close now I could feel his breaths on my cheek, smell the sweet scent of the ale he’d just swallowed. “Meet me outside after dark and I will take you aboard The Magpie. We’ll see what we can find.” He stroked his hand down my neck, over my chest and onto the soft rise of my breast. “Although I’m sure I have nothing as pretty or as delightful as you in any of my safes.”

  I was breathing fast and heat was building between my legs. Climb aboard The Magpie, with Captain Roberto. That would be a dream come true. So many nights I’d lain awake, imagining what it was like on his ship, and whenever he was docked by The Gifford I always wondered what lucky wench he’d taken to his bed. Often I ended up fingering myself, wishing it was him touching me so I could experience all the delights his sinful eyes suggested.

  He dropped his hand and reached for his drink. “After dark,” he said, his attention still glued on me. “Meet me at the boarding plank at the end of the pontoon.”

  “Matilda, for crying out loud.” My father was behind me. “Would you serve faster, then get into the kitchen and help Cook.” He moved me to one side and placed his hands on the bar.

  I tensed as he and Roberto caught one another’s gaze. Belligerence sizzled between them. Each barely tolerating the other.

  Captain Roberto reached for his hat, put it on and smiled, dimpling the olive skin of his cheeks. “Your hospitality i
s greatly appreciated, Landlord,” he said with a polite dip of his head. “As always, our heartfelt thanks.”

  Father made a strange grunting sound and clenched his fists.

  Roberto stepped backward, drink in hand, and his crowd of men parted as he turned and made his way to a bench by the door.

  The next hour was agony. I flitted between the kitchen and the bar, serving food and beer, collecting money and re-filling casks. Cook shouted at me, but I didn’t care. Instead I kept checking the sky, watching it turn to a dense, black velvet and knowing soon I would slip away to sample the delights waiting for me.

  While I worked, Captain Roberto remained surrounded by his men, chatting and drinking, holding court. They idolised him, hung on his every word. I guessed I was just another one of his devoted followers.

  Suddenly there was a shout and a bang. A chair was kicked over and a bottle smashed.

  “Take it outside,” my father shouted, grabbing a length of lead from under the bar.

  His futile request was ignored and daggers were drawn, glinting ominously in the lantern-light. Over a table, two angry red faces glared at each other, one man wore an eye-patch, the other had a mean fork-shaped scar across his cheek.

  Roberto caught my eye, tipped his head toward the door and stood.

  He wants me now. Oh sweet Lord above.

  No one would notice my absence, not if there was a brawl. In fact, father always told me to get out of the way if there was violence, he didn’t want me hurt.

  I slipped quickly into the kitchen, dashed past Cook and out into the chilly night. I raised my skirt and ran toward the pier, grateful when the stench of rot was replaced with brine-laden air and the noise of the inn was drowned by the gentle push-pull of waves over shingle.