A Sea Of Sex

Streaks of pulsing laser-lights gyrate around the beautiful girls and handsome guys as they dance to the bone rattling beats of liquid metal rock that thud from giant speakers. The Waikiki Beach Club is like a lover's wet dream. Polynesian waitresses in skimpy hip-hugging sarongs serve fancy drinks, while guys make plays for suntanned girls dressed to arouse, attract and entice.

Each ear-splitting bass thump is in cadence to the whiplash movements of Lonnie Jackman's long golden-blonde hair. As is the sway of her supple hips, the provocative bounce of her breasts and beneath -- the exciting pound of her nervous heart. Just looking at Mike Malone triggers a trickle of excitement below her swinging navel jewel. Lonnie closes her eyes. The featherlike sensual throbs are something she rarely feels. Even dancing three feet apart, she can feel his heat, and smell his scent.

Mike gazes at the gorgeous woman before him, watching her move . . . watching her body. She whirls around, dancing wildly while watching him with a penetrating stare. The smoky look in her crystal blue eyes sends his mind spinning. His gaze drops to her midsection. In the science of sex appeal, that leather mini-dress should either be illegal or get the Pulitzer Prize, he muses to himself.

Lonnie watches his eyes. They're exploring her every curve and crevasse. His movements are almost trance-like. This dress is perfect, she giggles to herself. It gives her body an alluring appeal to any admiring eye and will propel their relationship to the next level. The thought sends pleasure-tingles crawling up and down her pussy-lips.

She'd set her sights on Mike from the moment they'd met in Boston. Tonight, the twists and turns of her romantic plan will unfold like a blooming flower and end with a ring around her finger and a storybook life with the third-year Harvard law student and soon-to-be-successful Boston lawyer who's dancing before her.

The music switches to a love song's slower tempo. Lonnie closes her eyes as the affectionate warmth of Mike's loving arms encircles her waist. One hand slides up then down her bare back. His fingers dance lightly on her spine, then drift lower, pausing on her undulating tailbone. He ventures lower. Stop him? No, it feels too good to have that hand on the moving muscles beneath her drum-tight dress. She sways against him, each move planned and calculated fully and consciously to exploit the powerful sexual waves her magnificent presence is able to manipulate.

"Let's get out of here," she murmurs into his ear.

"Let's not," he whispers back.

"You're not sick are you? You look a little, well wobbly."

"Call it weak in the knees."

"Want to sit down?"

"I'll be okay. He eases her lower body closer to his. "I could use some ice water."

"Judging from what I feel against my tummy, an ice bucket might be more apropos. How about walking on the beach? I'll spring for some champagne. We could --."

"Ah, maybe we shouldn't. I don't trust myself to behave."

"Neither do I." Lonnie walks her fingers down the open front of his white silk shirt. "But I want to do it anyway."

"Do you always get what you want?"

Her glossy lips curl into a self-conscious smile. "No, not always." She pauses then shrugs, her finger pad tracking the outline of the diamond heart that holds the dress snugly against her breasts. "Well, most of the time, yes."

Phosphorescent waves whisper against the star-drenched night. The faint smell of leftover Coppertone drifts through the salty air, mixing with the light scent of Lonnie's perfume. As they stroll in the sand sipping champagne from paper cups, Lonnie can't help but keep a nervous eye on the nearly empty beach. Rocky had followed her all the way from Boston to Hawaii. Somewhere in the bluish tropical moonlight, Rocky is watching with her anger clock rapidly ticking toward meltdown. It had happened the night before. They'd been in bed. Rocky was kissing Lonnie's nipples when she told her . . .

Rocky's deep, sex charged breath stops short. She spits out Lonnie's nipple as if it had suddenly spewed sour milk. "Cool it?" she snaps. "what do you mean, cool it?"

"Hey, stop growling like an old mother bear. I still love you. It's blissville when you kiss my breasts. But I got plans and just want to see what happens with Mike."

Rocky's dark eyes stare both wide and unblinking. "You're dumping me, aren't you?"

"Don't be silly. I am not dumping you. What we have is very special."

"Special? Lonnie, we made love."

"And meant it."

"Did you? You're shoving a knife in my back. Now you're twisting it."

"That's not true."

"The hell it isn't," she shouts. A murderous look settles in her eyes. "You're tossing me aside like a broken shoe, aren't you? Do you think I'm gonna lay between the sheets loving some damn dildo while you fuck some icky man? You think I'll twiddle my thumbs waiting for a few minutes with your precious pussy? Well you little bitch, I'd think again.

Lonnie touches her naked thigh. "C'mon Rocky. Don't freak out. You can find a guy too." With a fingernail, she traces the curve of Rocky's areola that crowns her large left breast. "You have the equipment. All you need to do is read the instructions."

Lonnie feels her shiver in disgust. Suddenly she bats Lonnie's finger away. "I don't want a man. I want you."

"I'm sorry babe, but --."

Rocky sizzles for a moment, and then jerks her head towards Lonnie. "I warn you Lonnie. Fuck with me and I'll fuck with you. I'll fuck with you and your jack-off lover, plenty. Put that in your pussy and smoke it."

Lonnie looks at the man walking next to her, cussing herself for misjudging Rocky's reaction so badly. The door slam echoes between her ears, as does Rocky's growling voice yelling, "I hate you Lonnie Jackman! You're just a bitch a witch and a slut! I'll get even. You just watch!"

Sitting on the sand, Lonnie nervously runs her finger up and down her thigh. In this state, Roxanne Marx is like a war tank with a homicidal maniac at the controls. The quandary isn't if she'll attack, but how to dodge it. She looks at Mike who's doodling in the sand with his finger. She twists the paper cup into the sand, deciding to deal with Rocky tomorrow. The future is at stake and the plan must go forward.

"Mike, I want to do something wild and wacky."

"Like?"

She looks him right in the eyes. "I want to make love, right now."

His eyes widen. "Here?"

Standing, she points toward the small waves washing on the beach. "No, out there."

"In -- the water?"

"You got something against water?" Taking his hands, she pulls him up and tugs him toward the wave line. "C'mon Mike, it'll be a blast, I promise."

"What about our clothes?"

"To hell with our clothes."

"But you'll ruin that beautiful dress."

"Like, who cares? Besides, all the books say it's a natural biological function for a gal to be wet when a guy turns her on."

He quirks an eyebrow. "What books have you been reading?"

She releases his hands. Using slow motion steps, she backs toward the water's edge. "C'mon, Mike. Did you flunk daring at Harvard? Gosh, it's not like I'm asking you to run down someone with your car or come up with a formula for nuclear fission."

She feels a small wave swirl around her brown suede boots. Although hesitant, his focus seems engrossed, perhaps intrigued by her outrageous recklessness. Discarding the investigative stare from a passing couple, he follows. In five steps, they're ankle-deep.

"Isn't this naughty?" Lonnie whispers.

"Your beautiful boots and my poor Italian loafers."

"They're giving up their useful lives for an ultimate wet dream."

He chuckles. "I'll give you that."

"Isn't this a turn-on?" she asks when they're knee-deep.

"How do you know I'm turned on?"

"We girls have a sixth sense about those things. Oh and tell your pants it's not polite to point."

Stepping back, she lifts her hand and unhooks the diamond heart. The nut-brown mini-dress's silver zipper gives way to a downward tug.

"Lonnie? What are you doing?"

"Giving your raging hormones a little push."

The dress top separates. Cool night air spreads across Lonnie's majestic breasts. She's in control, absolute control.

He stares at her with an astonished eye, drinking in her naked beauty and the darkish buds pointing high as if begging to be stimulated.

"Something wrong? They're just boobs. Most girls have them."

"I know what they are."

"Glad you learned something at Harvard. Hey, it's a warm night. I want you. You want me. Is that so wrong?"

"It's not wrong." He wades close enough to touch. "What it is, is insane."

Lonnie fakes a pout. "Some romantic you are. This is the most beautiful beach on the planet. I want to make love and you tell me I need a shrink?"

"You don't need a shrink," he whispers. "This has got to be illegal."

She takes him in her arms. "Stop being a lawyer and be a lover, okay?"

The warmth of his breath against her cheek and the soft pressure of his body against her breasts spark waves of sizzling, tantalizing warmth between her legs. His lips touch hers as if they are golden nuggets. Moving her mouth, Lonnie wants to kiss him until he bleeds. Gently, she pulls her head away and lays her hands on his shoulders. Pressed to the sensitive softness of her breasts, his muscled chest feels warm, inducing unquenchable cravings. Every nerve, every gland, every muscle is lusting for him. The desire in his face flows rich and thick.

His hand cups her breast. Another works beneath the dress and tugs at the hard high mounds held under the taunt leather. Each intimate touch elicits little spontaneous gasps from between Lonnie's lips.

Withdrawing her hands from his shoulders, she laces her fingers through his hair and nudges his head directly toward a throbbing nipple. Contact brings on a deep shuddering breath. Shivers of excitement ripple up and down her spine. Each advancing move brings a sharp concoction of wonderful pleasure -- building pleasure.

With arms around each other, they wade out until the sea laps at their waists. He's in no hurry, nor is she. For both are about to take a suicidal leap from which there will be no return. Laying her head against his chest, Lonnie listens to his thundering heart. For a fleeting moment, Rocky's lovely but strong-willed face appears behind Lonnie's eyelids. The pleasure and love they'd shared tingles somewhere deep inside. "I'm not a lesbian," her own voice echoes in her ears. "Rocky was just an experiment. Now it's time to move on." Rocky's threat echoes with equal loudness. She's the jilted lover, assuming the role of a wolf hiding in a dark corner, ready and waiting for the right moment to attack. That thought makes Lonnie shiver.

Mike buries his nose in the swirls of Lonnie's long blonde hair. She trembles as his hands hug and lift at the high mounds of her butt.

"Take a deep breath," she whispers against his mouth.

With their lips locked together, she pulls on his shoulders. Lonnie's mini-dress blooms with air as they sink in a shroud of exploding bubbles. Underwater, they chase each other for a few playful minutes, then surface in a tight and hungry embrace. In the world of romantic settings, this is heaven. Moonlit darkness encircles them like a comfy blanket. The sea is bathwater warm. Soft, romantic music is drifting across the warm night air from the beachside club. Tropical breeze cuddles their wet bodies in a balmy embrace as they rock in perfect rhythm, carefree except for sizzle of effervescent lust. Beneath Lonnie's dress, even inside her boots, the seawater feels slippery and warm. The sea as become a special element to the explosive and whimsical lovemaking that she'd planned so carefully. Together, they paddle another few feet out. Breast deep, the sea buoys them, making their movements languid, bodies sensual. It's as if the ocean has a magic way of cleansing worldly burdens and keeping trouble at a distance.

"You're a miracle," he whispers as he nibbles on her earlobe.

"That's me. One part sugar and one part spice."

Using her forefinger, Lonnie lightly traces the edges of his half-parted lips, saying not a sound, merely letting her lips roll around the words -- I love you. His loving kiss turns special by a whiff of tropical trade wind that fondles their wet bodies.

"Umm, touch me, more -- more," Lonnie murmurs as his hand cups a breast. Penetrating shivers of pleasure leave her breathless. So special is this moment, she wishes it could last forever. Her hand finds his cock. Although held snug by his pants and surrounded by seawater, his arousal shows not a sign of withering. He feels like warm velvet stretched over solid steel. Excitement rushes through her as his cock swells even more too gentle hand strokes. Beneath her submerged dress, Lonnie's pussy is afire. Deep in her heart, she knows he'll give her an orgasm that her sexual side will feed on for days, perhaps months. Giving him her body in such a special way will cement their love, and give her all she's dreamed of since she was little.

Crushed to his chest, her nipples are numb, yet gloriously alive, tingling with the incredible sexiness of this exceptional man's touch. With each thump of her heart, everything sexual is expanding, warming the seawater that's lapping at her tender tinderbox that aches to hug the wonderful thing she holds in her right hand.

"Take off your shirt," she whispers toying with the middle button.

In a moment, the garment floats away in a meaningless white blob. She can't help but stare. His broad chest glistens in the moonlight. Muscles move. Shadows dance. His nipples are as taut as hers' are. "God, he is beautiful," she whispers silently to herself.

She moves slightly forward. Nipples first, intuition says. "You're so warm," Lonnie moans as she grazes the hard tips against his muscled chest.

"Shhh," he says holding his hand over her mouth to block her moans. "Someone on the beach will hear."

"Let them find their own fantasy. Mike, touch me -- hold me," she whimpers. "Kiss my breasts, kiss me everywhere, please?"

Instantly, there's fierce and mutually shared urgency. Hands pull at backs, asses and arms, heightening the burning profound embrace. Lonnie's nipples are aching in agony. She arches her back. The movement gives him room to find the bottom of her left breast. Her knees weaken as he gently lifts and squeezes her dense yet quivering breast flesh, his hands hardening her softness, but replacing the nipple-ache with slow pleasure-releases. With each thud of her heart, Lonnie's nipples surge against his palm, bringing on the wildest of hidden sensations, prompting uncontrollable moans and puppy-like whimpers to spill from her mouth. His lips find a nipple. She melts into him as his first lick prompts a rash of milk-buds to ripple across each nipple. Beneath the water, his hand touches her thigh, and works its way up, feeling each inch of her soft, yielding skin. His fingers find wet silk.

"Panties?" he says in a breathless whisper. "You told me you never wore them."

"Sorry counselor, but I fell off the wagon," she giggles, secretly pleased she'd shaved and waxed that afternoon.

Her lips attack his. Tongues duel tongues. His finger pushes under the silk drawing the thong deeper. His gentle yet prying touch jerks breath into Lonnie's lungs. Bee-stings of pleasure ripple up and down her spine. She gasps, nearly drowning in the overwhelming movements of his fingers on her clitoris. Lonnie grits her teeth in a struggle to suppress a premature orgasm. He starts to pull his fingers out, wisely sensing that she doesn't want to climax just yet. Unprompted, Lonnie's pussy contracts. Love muscles tug at his finger, perhaps in a secret, but unsuccessful attempt to hold it inside. Lonnie sighs softly as her pussy closes. She immediately misses his finger. His next open-mouthed kiss sends her mind spinning. It's as if she's trapped in a black hole, tumbling out of control toward a burning nucleus where escape is inconceivable as much as undesirable.

Danger suddenly thrums. Jilted Rocky is dangerous. She's strong, cunning and capable of anything. To hell with it. Through the wet of his trousers, Lonnie's hand finds his zipper tab and slides it down.

"You didn't wear any," she whispers, delicately teasing, stroking, and then cupping his swollen testicles, delighting as his facial expression goes tight with pleasure.

Using her free hand, she unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants down. "Stay put," Lonnie says softly. Taking a lung-full of air, she slips below the surface.

In the dark, it takes a few seconds to pull off his shoes and pants, then few more to find his weakening erection. The water has robbed him of hardness and size. She brushes feather-like kisses across his tip. He instantly stiffens. Her hand movements are precise, moving slowly from his testicles to his tip, mimicking the natural embrace of an aroused cervix. Air bubbles expel from around Lonnie's lips as she closes over him. She sucks hard to tighten the seal. These wild movements are certain to be building his want to the point of being unbearable. Abstract cravings suddenly shiver up her lower body. Although submerged, both of her breasts tense. Cravings and heightening, leashed-up passions want him in her pussy, not her mouth. Alas, for the moment, gratification must and will be his. One gulping suck pulls him in deeper. There's nothing slow or subtle about the way he's swelling against her tongue. Sliding out just a bit, delicate yet salty flavor pours onto her taste buds. The so-sweet milk of early sperm swallows easily, flowing down her throat without rejection. Wanting him in the back of her throat is suddenly overwhelming. Her lungs decline to cooperate. Sliding his cock out of her mouth, she licks him and slowly ascends to the surface then drinks in a lungful of air.

"Did that feel good? she whispers.

"You know it did," he says kissing the tip of her nose. His gaze drops to the gleaming water drops that decorate the nakedness of Lonnie's thrusting breasts.

"Sorry. I wanted to make it happen and swallow, but I ran out of air. Forgive me?"

"Lonnie, we really shouldn't be doing this," he whispers back.

"Forget what we should or shouldn't be doing." Pressing against him, she gazes into his half-shut eyes. "Please Mike," she says rubbing his erect cock across the dress's smooth leather. "Make love to me? I need you so bad."

Mike's nod and smile are slight. Underwater, his hands struggle to get the taut mini dress up and around Lonnie's slender waist. The glass-like water swirls as she holds his shoulders. She rises and scissors her legs around his thighs.

"Am I too heavy?"

"Not at all," he says groping and struggling with her thongs.

"Problem?"

"Sorta. Damn, I do better with bra-hooks."

"I'm not wearing a bra."

"Believe me I've noticed. Dammit, I can't get them off you."

"Don't they teach you anything in law school?"

"Yeah, but -- "

"You're so cute when you're helpless."

"I am not helpless. Dammit, a bed would be a hell-of-a lot easier."

"But only half the fun. Need help?"

"No." He struggles a moment, then looks at her, completely perplexed. "Lonnie, with you on me, I can't get them off."

"So you're finally admitting you do need help?"

"You like to make jokes about this, don't you?"

Releasing her legs, her boots settle onto the sandy bottom. "Sorry Mike. I'm spoiling everything, aren't I?"

He sets his jaw straight. "This time, you stay put."

Mike sinks below the surface. Now's my chance, she thinks to herself. Squinting into the darkness, Lonnie scans the beach. Rocky's watching, but where? Aside from a few strolling lovers, who are quite ignorant of what's going on ten yards from shore, the beach appears vacant. Lonnie closes her eyes as she feels Mike sliding her panties down her legs. She squeezes her breasts together with her arms. "How sweet. He's circling my navel jewel with kisses."