Head on the Beach SeXStoRY

Head on the Beach He knew that she had liked him, and hoped that she still did. But it was complicated. He had set his emotional clock to fall in love with her around the time that she might have decided that she liked him, and hated her boyfriend enough, to finally invite his semi d***ken kiss, as they sat in the corner of some smoky bar. she escaping from her reality with him, and he hidden from his loneliness, pretending this was his girl, the only agenda she now had was wanting him to want her, and he would give it all to her. Suddenly he knew that he had fallen in love, but she had pulled back, maybe sensing something more intense from him than she would have preferred at this stage. Sometimes he hated her, for not believing in love any more – more importantly his. Sometimes he remembered her smile as false when he recounted it again, but he would always forget it when she dazzled him with another, the next week, the next fortnight, the next month, then the forgotten period, and he was relegated again to the ‘just in case’ box. But it was stupid to think about these things as it only caused mental suffering. How many men had suffered the same sickness, how many were still suffering, and did she plan to remedy any of them? The answer was no. No second chances for the fallen, no looking back. It was useless as talking about politics; what went on in their heads was just as far beyond influence or control that it made no difference how long you sat complaining about them in the pub. At this rate she would remain as mysterious and formidable as the sea to his meek advances. Too look at her was to gaze upon a sexual athlete, blessed with the kind of cheekbones and shoulders that, if she were a boy, all the girls would fall in love with her, but as she was a girl they probably hated her. In the green eyed society, the happy were always the hunted. But was she happy? He could not work it out. She had nothing to be unhappy about, did she have multiple orgasms everyday or would that be too much of a distraction to her busy life? There was something about her; two well respected friends had told him so after meeting her. Yes, something about her that he was cursed never to learn! He became bitter, slowly sobering to all the feelings he used to take for granted, everything that used to keep him happy. Now he was slowly losing his faith in the only thing he had ever really believed in. He wasn’t jealous of her boyfriend. No, somehow he understood that he was just a stable in her life, the kind of stable you needed when the passion dried; a house, a car, holidays, and two obnoxious k**s, not her own, who would always hate her. But just when all felt lost, and as if from the dead, fate intervened, reviving their common interest in each other. As it happened, her boyfriend had tripped on some c***dren’s toys on his way out of the shower at his wife’s house, twisting his ankle in the process, thus managing to cancel their holiday on two accounts. For some reason she used to deprecate her looks to him. Maybe she was fishing for compliments - but he didn’t think it her style. Maybe she was giving him a chance to look shocked and say he had not even looked at another girl for as long as he had been enveloped in her presence, absorbed by her eyes, and her scar running down her forehead that he had a fantasy to run his tongue along, and her long cattish smile. He wanted to see that smile in bed, to see her stretched out, hips like waves, ready roll open for him. Surely she couldn’t think she was ugly? Maybe they all did – maybe everyone did. What was wrong with her boyfriend that her didn’t he tell her everyday? But maybe he was jumping to conclusions; just because he wasn’t fucking her properly it didn’t mean that he didn’t think she was beautiful. Maybe he had simply become obsolete. But her boyfriends feelings were none of his concern now they were together and alone at last, driving through little green lanes, speckled with light from where the trees tangled together above them, down mountain roads, towards the warm afternoon beaches that glowed below, she driving and he sitting like a happy lion next to her. The car was parked. They walked together down the path with many surprisingly tropical plants around. The salty richness of the sea wafted up to them. In the distance the tide was gently rolling in, lapping up over sand. He took some wine; they had a tent for later, though he was not sure how it would work out exactly. Once they had set out their sitting arrangements they were soon speaking about everything. About the sea, about the fish, the crabs in the rock pools, the birds drifting on the breeze, why you could put your hand under rocks in freshwater to feel for trout but never in the sea, about people death and happiness, ghosts and aliens, about how geography formed characters and moods. He sat on a warm flat rock she spread out sideways to him, tilting her head back, resting it on her shoulder to smile at him occasionally with her sunglasses on. The summer had been unusually hot, and the ocean currents had brought some surprising and wonderful additions to the coastline. Dolphins and seals were now a common sight, and there were even reports that the dolphins were becoming friendly to bathers and surfers. Local fisherman had a shock two weeks ago, when two boats managed to catch four huge tuna as big as ‘pigs,’ and suddenly, with local news descending upon the story, having very little else to cover other than the closure of a goat sanctuary, and the price of tuna well known on the fish stocks, the little villages was suddenly buzzing with exotic boom town excitement. Everyone was scratching their heads about it, of course, but no one was complaining. Whichever way the earth was going, for warmer or worse, it was sometimes just enough to enjoy the time left. Another couple had appeared on the beach now; two surfers, a man and a woman. “We’re starting a dolphin dudes facebook page,” said the blond haired girl with a sandy tan, who had come over to say hello while her boyfriend waxed down his board. We’re going out to surf with them, the Australian guy spoke; “yeah, there’s a lot of them here, but they’re quite nervous the way they swim; still in a protected formation, they don’t seem to want to socialise just yet.” “Well, good luck charming them this evening” he said. “Same to you mate” said the Australian with a wink. Real men could wink at anyone. They watched them going into the sea together in dreamlike synchronisation. It was a pure fact that guys like that were magnets for the girls, but for the remaining man on the beach it was not the case; there was always something too uncertain about him to put him in the 'cool' catergory. The surfers were about six waves out, when suddenly some fins popped up and they had company. Usually he might have regretted that he could not surf, or play an instrument, or do any of the other things that might help fill the spiritual blanks in his life. That he had no energy, in this sense, and no natural magnetism pulling desired people towards him. But today he realised what it was all about; that is was enough just to enjoy what other people had and to appreciate everything that made life diverse and wonderful. “I love dolphins” he said suddenly without any embarrassment, for it was simply true.She simply smiled. There was no explanation needed. Suddenly he was happy with untold expectation, happy now in the moment, happy just to be alive, unrecognisable from the desperate creature he had left a long way behind him. Now he saw that his desires had always been attainable his complexes very simple. He was back home, as natural as if he had never left. Now it was time to look at her with unashamed appreciation in his eyes. How he wished to jump on her like a tiger and clamp his jaws around her supple neck, to push back her hair and nibble her ear, to pull her dress straps of her shoulders, exposing her breast sprinkled with goose pimples like icing sugar, to run his hands over her hips, to lick her stomach. All was so possible and yet impossible to even dream of at the same moment. His head steamed with lust, hungry for everything on this secret menu of delectable flesh. His feelings for her at that moment were not even so clear as he had thought. He was resentful at her in some ways that she had held such a spell over him for so long, angry that she had managed to promote herself so well, just by having ‘something about her.’ They finished their glasses of wine. Spontaneity was what was needed now. “Let’s go for a swim.” “Okay” she said, getting up and stretching. “Let’s go.” They walked down the beach, with endless horizon in front of them, but still their arms brushed lightly against each other. Did she not know that every touch was an electric current pulsing through him? The surfers were quite far out by now and every so often a dolphin would surface, before scooting back under the waves. There was no waiting to adjust to the cold water, as it had been for as long as he could remember. The embryonic warmth sucked them straight in and soon they were both swimming, emerged together in infinite water. “It’s so beautiful” she said. “Yes” he said turning to face her, you are. He had waited for so long to say it, fearing there would never come a right time, that the words would get caught in his throat, and come out dry and lifeless, and ridden with bad intentions. But today he had been blessed with the minimum standards of truth Yes, you are. How long they had been embraced he didn’t know. The man had returned to the beach to get a camera to film the dolphins, but all the wonders of the natural world could not compare being so close to her as he was now, the warm currents flowing wrapping them together in silky waves. They were waist high, he a little deeper than her, holding her hips, as he feverishly tasted the warm salty sweetness of her mouth, with his hands pawing over her breasts, feeling the buds of her desire grow out from between his fingers. Suddenly, her hand was on him as she disappeared under the water. Then he felt her between his legs, her head bobbing around near his bulging tent. Standing on one leg like a stork, he relieved himself of his trunks with his other foot, while at the same time he felt her mouth... “Oh god I love you!” he said to his love, as a whirlpool of passion engulfed him in the warm turquoise waves. In fantastical feats he could only have dreamed of, he grabbed her shoulders, ran his hands through her hair, grabbing, stroking, thrusting himself, not thinking, just feeling everything, a pure happy a****l finally. Just then an unmistakable voice interrupted from behind him; the tone of which suggested someone not as deeply involved as he had previously thought. “Where did the surfer go?” She said. He turned his head. The girl had not swam under him as he had thought. The cold reality being light years away from his extraordinary wishful thinking (He always had a habit of misinterpreting things to suit his wants). She had swam away to cool off, and now stood, half silhouetted in the retiring sun, one hand on her hip, the other scanning past where he stood, apparently unenlightened to the fact that he was still wedged in semi consummation with her... “The dolphins have disappeared too” she said. ....But if not her... then who…? All was suddenly still, whilst everything else came colliding together at the same time, the water around him much darker than elsewhere, the thing below him strangely unmoved, as he now realised it had only been receiving. His head buzzed with the expectation of something terribly wrong, as the head bobbed up and he saw everything; the mouth twisted into an eternal agonizing wail, the water around him now an oily crimson, testament to the bestial carnage that had betrayed the former tranquillity, her eyes fixed into his, like glass dolls eyes. He did not scream though; his instinct only to escape from this terror. He stumbled and thrashed his way backwards, begging to be in shallower waters, completely shrunken in horror, with no other wish than to be far away from the object of his original desire, but it was not as simple as that, for the torso girl, as if wanting more commitment, had suddenly latched onto him with her rubbery arms, quivering in insect-like spasms. With the loudest noise he had ever made, he roared, straight into the face of his date, as he struggled past. Her expression seemed to be almost dead with shock, as he dragged half of the surfer girl with him, now naked, his shorts nowhere to be seen, his penis, thankfully still obscured from view, was like a tiny grub trying to burrow back inside him with shame. Finally he had found the shallows. The Australian guy had returned with the camera, just in time to capture the final scene of his now dead girlfriend still in the process of giving unwitting head to a stranger on the beach. It must have all been to much for the poor guy, because he just stood and stared with bulging eyes, still holding the camera and remained in that position until the emergency the services arrived. He watched as they loaded her dead torso into the ambulence. Her boyfreind went in a seperate one, with a large white blanket around him. He sat alone on the beach staring out at the bl**dy sea. His date had long gone. In a blind panic she must have ran to the car and driven off, somewhere - anywhere but stay there, and he couldn't blame her. A week later he still had no idea what to write her in an email, so he simply wrote: Dear Kateriana, I know last week was a bit of a shock, but please Just try to remember the dolphins. Try to remember the dolphins...