Sex On The Beach 39

The gentle roar of the waves in the background had a soothing feel and sound. The rumble as the waves first hit the rock outcropping to our right was followed just seconds later by the gentler

swoosh

of the remaining wave slipping up onto the sand in front of us followed by the

hiss

as it receded. Off towards the outcropping the small, well-worn, rocks that constituted the beach in that area rattled against each other with every receding wave.

"Don't get too hot," I offered, looking over at my wife Trish's nearly naked backside. Her arms were folded under her head, the sides of her nearer breast squeezed out where she was lying on them. Her naked back ended at her bikini bottom; although not a thong, the French cut left a lot of her gorgeous ass exposed, a skimpier bikini than she'd ever worn at the beach before. Otherwise she appeared totally nude from the backside and I knew the small vee cut of cloth between her legs covered even less in front than it covered of her bottom. I knew, as I'd been there with her to pick it out. Although I'd tried to get her an even skimpier thong bikini, she'd drawn the line as she needed something "decent" to wear in public and complained that she was no longer 18 and didn't have the body for it. It didn't matter that I argued that since she had maintained her daily work-out regimen for years, that her bottom and abs and arms were just as firm and muscular and gorgeous as they had been when I'd met her, that she certainly

did

have the body to wear a thong. Despite having just as killer of a body as she had when we'd met so many years before, she vetoed the idea.

Half an hour previously she let me spread lotion onto her back, my hand generously spreading lotion onto her bottom, my fingers snaking in under the edge of her bikini... "just in case" it moved a little so that we didn't end up with some sunburned flesh in sensitive places.

"Uhhhm," Trish answered, her head turning toward me and her eyes coming open. "Time for another dip, to cool off?"

"I think so," I said, "I'm getting hot too." Trish rolled over and sat up, putting her arms back and leaning onto them. As I knew, from the front, only the small vee of cloth that was her bikini bottom was the only thing covering anything. Her breasts, now un-squeezed from against the ground, were proudly on display for my eyes and anyone that would walk by, so that visually she was almost totally nude. Standing, I reached down to take her hand. "Come-on, another dip and I'll put more lotion on you."

~

Wearing practically nothing, especially in public, was something I'd only ever dreamed of my wife Trish doing. My beautiful wife of 30 years had always rejected any efforts to get her to dress sexy, dress revealing, and act the slutty wife in public that I knew she could be behind closed doors. She was lusty in the bedroom, but once the door opened, she was a professional, a mother, and outwardly very conservative. There had been a few times, early in our marriage, where we'd nookied around the house, but once we had kids, that ended. Sex was relegated to behind-closed-doors, or the occasional get-away weekend.

Our anniversaries and other special occasions we both loved and she

always

made them special. Naughty lingerie, toys, and playthings had spiced up those times, however they were always behind closed doors. I'd tried at various times over the years to instigate something between us when we weren't guaranteed complete privacy and she'd always turned me down. An evening barbeque on a hot evening had ended up with us looking at the stars on a blanket, but when I'd started getting amorous, she'd adjourned us indoors. Once on the beach, a picnic with friends, and we'd gone for a walk after dark. Seemingly alone, she'd not stopped me when I'd pulled her close and fondled her bottom, caressing her through her bikini. But when I slipped her tit out of her top and bent to suckle a nipple, she immediately stopped me when we heard voices approaching of someone else walking on the beach. Despite that she'd been as horny as I was, she'd said, "Take me home."

I don't know when exactly she began talking about a tropical getaway, perhaps it was after that time on the beach but, living in Scandinavia, perhaps it's always been her dream. When I tried to get her to buy a skimpier bikini, she'd said "take me to some tropical paradise, where we don't know anyone, and I'll wear something like that for you." When we'd gone to the lake with friends for a weekend and the other two women decided to sunbathe topless, when I asked her if she was going to, her answer was "take me to some tropical paradise, where we don't know anyone, and I'll go topless." But, that weekend, she'd kept her top on. On another occasion, hiking on a hot day in the mountains just a few miles from home, when we came across a large pool at the bottom of a waterfall where, with only a little arm twisting, we went skinny dipping. Sunning on a rock afterward to warm up, she had said "take me to some tropical paradise, where we don't know anyone, and I'll go skinny dipping with you all you want."

I don't know whether I just never totally believed it, or we just never got around to booking a vacation like that, but finally I surprised her for our anniversary this year with exactly that: a week away in a tropical paradise.

She'd dressed for vacation from the time we left home. It was almost too cold for what she wore, skirt and a polo shirt, on a typical mid-summer 10⁰ C morning, but we were heading to "somewhere warm" which was all that she cared about. A light sweater to help with the chill when we left home disappeared when we got to the airport.

I'd been behind her as we'd gone up the escalator, and having already shed the sweater, I got to observe her body without her knowing I was looking. I couldn't help but wonder how naughty she might actually get with me when we got to our destination. She'd worn her hair nearly the same length for her entire life, or at least as long as I'd known her. Strawberry blond tresses, that were "long" the few times it had ever reached shoulder length, currently ended at the top of her neck, a few inches above the collar. I was so tempted to reach forward and caress her bottom, but withheld as there were several people around, especially several behind us that would have seen me fondling her, which almost assuredly would have caught me an elbow, or perhaps just turning and glaring -- either way, not a good start to the trip no matter how much I desired her. Whether riding her bike, running on the trails around the house or on a treadmill at her hotels when she traveled, or her favorite Nordic Skiing in the winter, her continual workouts had kept her ass muscular and fit. I knew that she knew it was one of her best assets from the thong underwear that she wore. I'm sure she wore the thongs for me, she knew how much I loved her ass. Except that her bottom would be white, showing she didn't every wear a thong bikini, I knew she would look dynamite in one if I could just ever get her to relax enough.

At 166 cm's tall, I could rest my chin on the back of her head when I wrapped my arms around her. If we were in private, my hands almost always found her breasts, perfect handfuls, every bit as much of a turn on for me after 30 years as they were that first time I fondled her when she was still a teen and she'd leaned back into me with a shiver. Her nipples had always been sensitive; any time I ever got my hands on them they swelled up nicely from the barely visible nubs when she wasn't aroused to the wonderful playthings that we both enjoyed. She'd never go braless in public, but around the house she'd sometimes wear form fitting shirts, or sometimes go topless, always to entice me. And still, after 30 years of doing it, when I wrapped my arms around her and filled my hands with her breasts, my fingers finding and tweaking her nipples, she'd melt back into me, shiver and coo her pleasure.

We changed planes in Amsterdam, finding ourselves on a large wide-bodied plane with unexpectedly empty seat after empty seat -- we had our premium economy row completely to ourselves. It was an early evening departure for our over-night flight, and after dinner was served, they dimmed the lights and pretty much everyone settled in to go to sleep.

I'd settled down and leaned against the outer wall. Trish had cuddled against me, the two of us practically lying down in the three adjoining seats, my one arm over her shoulder. Looking around and seeing nobody even within sight from our semi-reclined state, I reached down and pulled her face up to kiss her. At the same time, I allowed my hand to slide down and caress her breast under the blanket. For once she didn't reject my not quite private fondling of her, instead whispering, "That's nice."

When she didn't reject my hand, of course I didn't hesitate to push it a bit further. When I slipped a finger in and unbuttoned the top button of her polo shirt she giggled. "Are we getting carried away?"

"I don't know, you've never let me get this carried away before."

"And you've never taken me to a tropical paradise before, either," Trish answered, suddenly sitting up. Pulling the blanket back she said, "I'm going to the toilet, I'll be right back." Taking her bag with her she slid out and walked forward and I saw the "occupied" sign light up on the overhead just after she disappeared from sight.

"Where were we?" she said, sliding back into place against me when she returned, nestling in and pulling the blanket back over us.

"Oh, I don't know... wasn't I about to get my hand slapped?" I whispered, looking over to Trish's face turned up to mine. I leaned in for a kiss, my hand again sliding to her breast, and I instantly stopped. I'm sure my eyes went wide as I said, "Oh my!" upon finding that she'd removed her bra, always an indication that she was willing to play.

Her nipples were discernably hard through the polo shirt, but it wasn't long before I slipped a finger into the vee of her neckline, and then began to open the other two buttons. She made no effort to stop me, and when I slipped a hand inside her shirt onto her bare skin she breathed "Umm, you know I love you?"

After 30 years of marriage, I knew just exactly how to read my wife, and hearing her whisper how she loved me was always an indication that she was horny and ready to play. "You've never done this before," I whispered, a nipple riding between my second and third fingers as I cupped her breast.

"You've never taken me to a tropical paradise before either," she said, reiterating the answer she'd said so many times before. I was beginning to get the feeling that perhaps her years long tease of "Take me a tropical resort where nobody will know us, and I'll let my inhibitions go," was totally what she meant.

"Oh?" I questioned, "and what does that mean?"

"I've always told you, with nobody around that we know..."

I bent to her face, our mouths joining, the subsequent kiss hot and passionate. Lying the way we were wasn't very comfortable however, so I pulled away, sliding down a bit more into the seats. Trish moved a bit more onto my side to get herself more comfortable. Although I could slide my hand into her shirt, it was still a bit awkward, and even with the blanket over us it was pretty obvious what I was doing. Pulling my hand back out I contented myself with fondling her breasts from outside. "Anything I want?" I queried, teasing, and questioning both.

"Maybe. What do you want?"

"Will you go braless for me?"

"I am braless for you."

"For the whole vacation?"

"If you want." She hadn't even hesitated.

"You know I love you without a bra."

"You just like my tits."

"Uhmmm, That I do." I whispered back, changing breasts and finding another hard nipple. I slid my other hand onto her hip and then back to her bottom. Surprisingly as I caressed her bottom through the skirt, I realized there was nothing but smooth skin beneath, I could detect no panty line. "You know I love your whole bottom, too," I said, moving my hand in search for the edge of her panties, but not finding anything. She didn't say anything, just wiggled her bottom against my hand. I didn't say anything as I began to move my hand down her hip, towards the hem. Finding the edge, I began working back upward, the skirt moving aside until I confirmed with my touch she'd removed both her panties and bra. "No panties," I whispered in awe, my fingers beginning to plunder her beneath the skirt.

"I thought you might like some easier access," she giggled. "Took you long enough."

"Oh, so you only took them off for me?" I teased, my finger slipping between her lips and finding, as I expected, she was already wet.

"Umm," Trish hummed to my touch, "I thought I

might

get something out of it too."

Stroking my finger up between her lips I found her hard little button, a shiver running through her body to my touch. Through years of experience I knew she'd really like my tongue on her, but we both knew that wasn't happening. Instead I continued to circle her clit, reaching down to replenish slippery whenever it dried too much, slowly increasing her arousal. "Uhmm, I've always wanted to do it in a plane." She whispered and although she hadn't yet touched me, she did now. Her hand, which had been resting on my leg, rose to the hard cock in my pants, squeezing me from the outside. "Can anyone see us?" she whispered. I inconspicuously raised my head just a bit confirming that, as I'd surmised, there was nobody who could see us in our seats.

"No."

Her hand released my cock and began fumbling with my belt. One handed she had trouble with my belt, but when she found the zipper on my pants and began pulling it down, I lifted my hand from her breast and found my belt buckle. Years of practice had it slipping free practically instantaneously, followed by the snap of my pants, and she had no problems negotiating my zipper.

Pushing my pants aside, her hand slid across my belly and under the edge of my underwear. Her hand found my cock, somewhat scrunched into my leg, but almost totally hard and fished it upright. The back of her hand pushed my underwear away and she gripped my cock, slowly stroking me at the same time my fingers were plundering her. It was all I could do not to groan outright. I glanced up again, looking around. We were just a few rows back from the bulkhead, and as far as I could see the cabin of the plane was dark except for one person watching a movie a couple of rows ahead, but on the other side of the cabin. A drape separated our area from the crew service area and toilets and First-Class cabin, with subdued light coming from there.

My cock was exposed underneath the blanket that she'd pulled over us, but I was totally covered otherwise. She was totally devoid of underwear, and with her skirt pulled up she would also have been exposed if the blanket wasn't there, but as quiet and discrete as we were, and as empty as the plane was, I knew that nobody was the wiser. "Umm," I heard Trish moan, and I could tell from the attention she was giving me, she was getting as distracted by my fingers as I was from her hand. Several times I felt her raise and then lower her leg, fighting the urge to open herself to my touch even more. The shivers and shudders as I spread her wetness through her lips, tantalizing her clit, increased as she got closer to orgasm, and consequently the attention she was bestowing to my cock eased, her stroking becoming ragged at best. I felt her stiffen, always a sign of impending orgasm, and her hand on my cock completely stopped, just gripping me, squeezing harder and harder as her attention was focusing on that sensitive point between her own legs. Her hips pushed out harder against my hand and fingers, her back stiffening even more, and suddenly she convulsed, her stomach contracting to my exquisite touch.

My fingers carried her to oblivion, continuing to keep her throbbing in orgasm, finally stopping when I knew it was on the brink of being too much. Slowly the rigidity of her body eased, and I withdrew my fingers from her clit. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled, her body completely relaxing, before her hand slowly began to caress my cock once more. Just as I knew how to tune her body, she was an expert at what did it for me. She knew how hard to grip, how hard to stroke, and tonight, under the blanket, she was tantalizing me as slowly as possible. "Ohhh!" I exhaled, feeling my own orgasm approaching. Feeling it herself, she eased off, stopping the stroking and squeezing at the base of my cock. Just as I know Trish's body, she also knows mine. When my almost orgasm subsided, she slid her hand upward, stopping at the top and rubbing her thumb across the head, spreading my leaking precum. "You've got such a nice cock," I heard her whisper, just as my eye caught a change in the cabin light. Glancing toward the front, I saw a stewardess parting the drape, a tray of waters held in one hand.

"Stewardess coming..." I whispered, my hand reaching to pull the blanket further over my lap, "pretend you're asleep." Trish continued to grip my cock, no longer moving, and closed her eyes, plausibly being asleep. The stewardess, even moving slowly, was beside our row of seats in just seconds.

"You doing ok? Do you need another pillow? Water? Need anything?" she asked, pausing as she saw my eyes open and watching her.

"We're fine," I said, shaking my head no.

"Has she got a seatbelt across her?" She asked, glancing down at Trish's waist, hidden beneath the blanket. "In case of turbulence..."

"Yeah, she's OK," I nodded. She smiled and nodded back, her eyes darting to Trish's head and my lap. Surprisingly, she reached down for the table tray of the almost unused aisle seat and opened it up, setting several napkins and two small water bottles onto it.

"I'll just leave you some waters, just in case you want them later. It's a very light flight today, so if need anything just use your call button, otherwise I won't disturb you until the end of the flight." She turned and stepped toward the back of the plane with a wink as she turned away. I watched her until she was several rows behind us, but she never looked back. Had I imagined it? Had she guessed that we were playing under the blanket?

"She's gone," I whispered.

Trish squeezed my cock and giggled, "Do you suppose she suspected?"

I thought about it for just a split second. "Yes."

"What? Really? Why?"

"Just the way she looked at us. She knew. You heard her say she wouldn't disturb us, but she left us a half a dozen napkins, I think she was giving us a cum rag."

"Good Idea," Trish giggled, sitting upright just a bit, reaching back across her body and finding the napkins on the table. Perhaps it was the thought that someone might know what we were doing, but the teasing was done. When Trish began stroking my cock again, it was seemingly just seconds before I was spurting into the napkin she was holding in place.

...

"You should have turned around, and put a pillow on the hand rail," I whispered into Trish's ear several hours later, the lights having come up and the announcement that breakfast was being served having aroused her to rise and sit up into the seat beside me. Window shades were coming up in various locations, what few people there were in the cabin rousing themselves and one by one gradually making their way to the toilets. Looking at how much room we'd had with three seats to ourselves, if she'd taken a pillow and turned around, with her skirt and no panties her bottom could have been easily accessible.

"Why is that?"

"Because without your panties on we could have fucked."

"You'd have loved that, wouldn't you?"

"I would."

"Maybe I'll wear a skirt on the way home," Trish teased.