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The man held himself deep inside of her, feeling her helpless in the throes of her orgasm, continuing to suck her nipple which had grown and hardened even more inside of his mouth. He felt her body beneath his as she was trembling and quivering and convulsing, giving quick jerks as she was carried along by the intensity of the release. Long minutes passed as he held this crying woman who had been carried off, captured by the ecstasy, ensnared by emotions too powerful to be long endured. Finally her quick breathing started to slow, her legs loosened their tight grip somewhat, her arms dropped back onto the rug alongside her. She began to float back down. Marcia shook her head back and forth. What had happened to her? Where was she? The cobwebs began to clear and the situation came back into pleasure-blurred focus. The man released her nipple from his mouth, giving it one last long parting kiss. His cock was still inside of her. It felt wonderful. Her body still trembled, but it was gentler now. She looked up at him.
As Marcia came back from her deep orgasm, the man started to thrust again. But there was no contest anymore, no passionate struggles for dominance, no resistance from her. It was all for pure pleasure now. Marcia closed her eyes again and gave into it, this time without reservation. Her legs tightened again, her arms raised around his head. She pulled his mouth to hers. This was their first mouth kiss. He had kissed her nipples, her neck, her breasts, even her underarms, but not her mouth... until now. They kissed deeply as they fucked, their mouths and tongued intertwined, panting into each other. There were no more sexual contrivances, no further artifice, just raw powerful copulation. They moved together, mouths together, chests glued, loins meeting, melting together, joining and parting and grinding, until at last the man stiffened, then came, convulsing inside of her, crying out inside of her mouth, pulsating and sending long jets of cum into her, giving such delightful incitement to her that she joined him and exploded into another orgasm, less intense than the first but still deeply satisfying. It was long minutes before they released each other.
She fell into a deep sleep, exhausted by passion. She never heard him leave. When she awoke later, alone in the van, she felt strangely bereft, and then puzzled. How could she miss this man she didn't even know, who hadn't even spoken to her? She felt a sudden longing for familiarity, for her friends. As she walked back down to the beach, her legs still trembling, her skin felt hot and flushed by what she had been put through in that van. She felt even more naked than naked, exposed, wondering if others could detect signs of the passion that had so lately possessed her body. She felt the moisture between her thighs, his semen leaking out and betraying their recent activity. She felt wanton, suddenly, and liked the sensation; but then she waded into the bracing salt water, and felt the waves wash over her, cleanse her. She wondered if others would notice the still hardness of her nipples or the distended blossom of her breasts. She walked back slowly, carefully, the sun and breeze drying her. She tried to look normal, nonchalant, confident, but afraid that she was being discovered as a fraud, her slowly dimming arousal clinging to her like a suntan, a part of her body, observable to all. She saw her girlfriends on the towel in the distance and walked over to them. Men who had seen her earlier struggle on the beach with the man, as her nipple was sucked, looked on with admiration and curiosity, daring themselves to approach her. None did.
Her girlfriends were awake now. They had slept through her initial meeting with the man and had seen nothing.
"Hey Marcia, where have you been?"
"Just up the beach, walking."
She had a slight quaver in her voice, hoping it didn't betray her inner turmoil to them. Her nerves were tremulous, even now vibrating as is from galvanic aftershocks. The memories of what had just happened to her were still fresh, blocking out any other thoughts. She could scarcely believe that she had done what she did. It was so unlike her, losing all control like that. She tried to calm herself.
"But you were gone a long time."
"I took a little swim."
This was a story for her alone, to remember, to relish, to recollect as she chose. She would never find out his name; he hadn't said one word to her. She would keep this memory as a secret part of herself and resurrect it when she wished; when she dared; or maybe when she couldn't help herself.
