Sun, Sea, Sand and Sultry Sex

"Are you sure about this?"

I threw my whisper as close to Leena as I could get it without the guys hearing. She turned and gave me an impish grin. Then she moved in even closer.

I guess that if you are brought up to believe that the world revolves around you, then you feel able to do whatever you want. Leena just slowly ambled right up to where the guy was fucking his wife, or girlfriend or whoever she was, as close as the guys who were watching, helping to form a circle around the scene. She seemed totally unphased by either the live sex that was taking place, or by the two men who were still masturbating, even as they made space for us to join the group.

Of course, I had no choice except to follow Leena, and ended up right beside her. I guess it was unsurprising that it was Leena who received rather more interested looks from the men who were there to watch the couple, than I did. She got almost at much voyeuristic attention as the couple fucking. I guess that it was not that often that an ethnic Indian with looks like hers joined in to watch this kind of outdoor exhibition.

I was almost relieved when the guy came. If your face can go red even when you have a dark tan, then that was the first sign that he was close. Then he stopped thrusting, on the forwards motion, the one that had his cock in her as deep as it could go. He ached his back. He gave out several uncontrolled groans. Put all that together and I knew for sure, the guy was coming. He was spewing semen deep into his companion, who was moaning, but did not seem to be orgasming. It does not always happen simultaneously. Sometimes, the guy just loses it, and is grateful that his partner understands.

Leena's hand found mine. She held it tightly. That was when I noticed that the guy the other side of her had moved a little sideways. He was now shoulder to shoulder with her, or maybe shoulder to elbow, allowing for the difference in their heights. Except his nearer arm was not by his side, but was behind her, and my guess was that that hand was not just dangling in the air.

Meanwhile, the guy we had been watching pulled out, his cock now semi-flaccid. He reached for a spare towel and wiped his cock dry, while his partner stayed exactly where she was. He got up, walked to the far side of her, and sat on a towel there. The woman still stayed exactly as she was. The guy gave a nod to one of what I had assumed to be an uninvited but still welcome audience. What I had not anticipated was that audience participation was a key part of this kind of outdoor show.

The man who had received the nod moved forward. He was one of the two men who had been masturbating, so his cock was erect, and angled towards the horizon. He knelt between the woman's legs. He guided his cock to her snatch. Next thing, he was fucking her.

That was all that it had taken. A nod. "Ma femme est votre femme." At least I assume that they were French. It seemed like some stranger fucking the guy's woman was no big thing. Maybe that was why they were there is the first place. They liked to fuck. They liked to be watched. She liked to be fucked some more. He liked to watch it happening. It was a part of what makes the world go around that I had never expected to witness up close like this, but that is what was happening.

Meanwhile the guy on the other side of Leena was getting more personal with her. He had moved right behind her. Close behind her. Very close behind her. So close behind her that his cock had to be pressed right up against her.

The hand that had been behind her last time that I had looked was now on her hip, fingers wrapped around her pelvic bone, encouraging her not to move away. He did not seem to care that she was still holding my own hand, just inches from his. But then his other hand was cupping her left breast. He was actively caressing it, stroking it with his huge palm, feeling its weight, even using a thick thumb and finger to play with her nipple, squeezing, twisting a little, pulling it outwards, distending the soft curve of the breast flesh into a forward pointing cone.

I thought about objecting. The guy was being seriously presumptuous. But my guess was that he would just laugh it off. Besides, by walking right into the middle of the show, Leena had virtually offered herself for the taking. Instead of objecting, I used the less direct approach.

"Should we go?" I asked Leena, no longer holding back on a whisper.

"You do not wish to fuck?" the man asked. The words were English. The accent was French. He had heard me use English, and I guess that the words he was using were pretty well known everywhere.

"Merci," Leena said, "mais, non."

She was no longer whispering either. She was using her confident, high class, Indian voice, even if the words were French.

He released her breast and stepped back a pace, theatrically, as if mocking her, but complying just the same. We retreated from the scene, back to the open sand and the sea.

"People really do that?" Leena exclaimed, once we were out of earshot.

"I guess they do," I said.

"I mean, if I had let him, he would have,...?"

"I'm pretty sure he would," I said.

"Wow!"was all she could find to say. Then she gave out a giggly, school-girlish laugh.

**************

We did not head into the dunes again for a week. We used the beach, although we also took a couple of days out to do some sight-seeing - the respectable kind of sights that you find in guide-books. The Lexus was comfortable to drive in, smooth and responsive. Maybe that is why Leena wanted it, for those qualities. Smooth and responsive.

On the days that we used the beach, we would take the same walk each afternoon, all the way to the defining river and back, staying close to the water's edge, and we would see heads bobbing about in the dunes, bodies occasionally appearing, and we laughed at what we had seen that day, and what might be going on up there, and we talked about how daring you would have to be to actually do anything like that.

If you are brought up to believe that you are wonderful, beautiful, amazing, and a Sikh, one of the elite, and that anything and everything is possible, and almost owed to you, I guess that gives you a special kind of confidence. The kind that makes you think that it might be fun if, instead of setting up our beach sheet and our towels along with most people, near the car park boardwalk, we were to take them into the dunes, and spend the afternoon lazing there, just to see what happened. That takes a special kind of confidence. Dumb, arrogant confidence. The kind that gets your face decorated with semen.

It was just one guy at first. He walked casually between a couple of the dunes that we were nestled in the middle of, and strolled on up to us. It took a moment before I recognised him as the guy who had fondled Leena's breast the week before. It was Leena that he stood in front of. He was direct, crudely direct.

"This time you fuck," he said to Leena.

If it had been a question, there would have been an inflection on the last word. He was not asking. He was telling her what was expected.

I had been lying on my front. Leena was on her back. As always, her legs were slightly parted, which meant her virtually hairless vulva, with its protruding, dark skinned labia, was displayed to the guy. When I turned my head to look, that is where our intruder's eyes were focused.

Leena sat up as I turned over. To give herself a stable base to sit, she did what I can never do. She sat yogi style, both legs bent at the knee, left foot over right thigh, then right foot over left calf and thigh, back straight. I envy her ability to sit like that.

"No," she said, her voice strong and confident. "Maybe another time?"

There was almost laughter in her voice, as if she found the situation amusing. I was not sure that that was the wisest approach to take. But the guy seemed to find it amusing, or maybe it was Leena's "No", that made him smile.

Either way, he started to stroke his cock. It was a decent size cock, not circumcised, but not unattractive, his pubic hair trimmed short, maybe to make his cock seem just that bit more impressive. At he stroked it, it began to swell and straighten, while the head started to emerge from its hiding place inside the foreskin.

"The beach is for sun-bathe," the guy said. "You come in dunes, then you fuck. You saw last time."

"Can't we just lie here?" Leena said, giving him her widest smile.

The problem with that smile is that it can have so many meanings. It could have been read as just a friendly way of turning down an invitation, or he might have felt that she was laughing at him, instead of with him, or she could even have been flirting with the guy, playing that centuries old game of cock teasing that can be fun, or can go badly wrong. The same smile could mean any of those things.

"Okay," the guy shrugged. "I find some friends. I think they will like to fuck you too. You have time to work it out. You leave, then okay. You still here when we get back, then I think you want to fuck me and my friends. No more asking. Comprenez?

I could hear the undertone. The guy was serious. Except that is not the way it happened. He did not need to go and find any friends. As if on cue, two more guys turned up before Leena could respond. Like the first guy, they did not hesitate to join us. One of them said something to the first guy in French, and he was answered at length. The new arrival turned to Leena.

"My friend says you do not like to fuck with him," he said. "I think it is better if you do. He says you have been here another time, and you have been watching, so you know what happens here. He says you have very good body, and he wants to fuck you. I think maybe it is better to agree."

The first guy moved closer. His feet were on Leena's towel, his toes almost touching her yogi calves. He was still stroking his cock, now just inches from her face. There was no question, he was being pretty assertive about what he wanted.

In some ways, I did not blame the guy. Leena had brought this situation on herself. The guy's logic was impeccable. We had watched the other couple, not just fucking, but letting another guy fuck the woman too. We had worked out why the guys were checking out the dunes. Yet Leena had persuaded me to set up our beach things right in the middle of the dunes, where the only people around were guys like this. Which made me wonder what Leena really wanted, what she had expected to happen, when, as was inevitable, some of the men who roamed here eventually found us.

Leena said nothing. Her head was angled back, staring up at the guy, eyes wide, her full lips in the natural pout that she could do absolutely nothing about. The guy continued stroking his cock, his foreskin retracting again and again, baring the head each time.

"Which country is it you are from?" he asked her.

Leena hesitated before answering. It seemed like she was unsure about continuing any kind of interchange with him.

"England," she finally said.

"Not England," the guy said. "Before, your family comes from where?"

Again Leena hesitated.

"From India," she said.

"Okay," he shrugged. "Then say me, in your country, women suck cock?"

Leena paused, thinking how to answer.

"If the man wants," she said at last.

"Then suck this cock," he said. He made it sound all so reasonable, nothing untoward.

Leena was still staring up at the guy from her sitting position on her beach towel. I was saying nothing, not that these guys would have paid any attention to what I said.

The guy inched forward again his feet pushing right under Leena's folded legs. Where he had been standing, his cock had been inches from her face. Now it was right there, and he used his hand to guide it to her lips. Keeping the foreskin pulled back, he touched the head to Leena's lips.

It was like a kind of sexual Mexican stand off. Any other woman would have ducked their head away. Leena did not move. She did not pull away. She just kept looking up at the guy as he moved his cock from side to side, grazing her lips with the swollen, taut skinned head, moving further forward, so that he was pushing against them. Leena did not give an inch. It seemed like she wanted to show the guy that she was not afraid of his cock.

"Ouvrez la bouche," he said. "Open the mouth."

Leena opened her mouth, just a fraction.

"Ouvrez!" he said again. His voice was quietly assertive, but with an undertone of unspoken threat.

Leena opened her mouth wider, wide enough to accept the mushroom cock head, except the man did not have to move forward, because Leena did that for him, leaning her upper body towards him to take the head inside her mouth and close her lips around the shaft, sucking on it, and from what I could make out, doing something with her tongue. She was still looking up at the guy and it seemed to me that her eyes still had that look of playfulness about them.

As if in slow motion, Leena moved her arm, raising her hand to where his hand had been while he had been stroking himself to erection. She slowly wrapped long fingers around his cock, and began a steady stroking of the shaft as she continued sucking on the cock head.

Somehow, just as slowly, while she still had the guy's cock head in her mouth and was still stroking the shaft, she rearranged herself on her towel, moving from sitting on her butt to squatting. Then she did something that sent a jolt of shock and awe right through my body. She let go of the guy's cock, put her both hands around his butt, and leaned further forward, taking his cock all the way inside her mouth, until her nose was pressed against the flatness of his lower belly.

Leena stayed like that for several moments while I held my breath. Stunned by what I was witnessing, by pure instinct I started counting. The "one thousand and..." count. The way you count seconds when you do not have a watch. While I was counting, I was taking in what I was seeing. Anna's strong nose was pressed hard against the guy's stomach, pushing into it. Her neck was distended, as if she had an adam's apple, but higher, more towards her jaw. That could only be his cock head, engorged in her throat, distorting the normally perfect lines of jaw and neck. A vein, or artery, was visibly pulsing. So was the bulge in her throat. Either Leena was struggling against the gagging reflex, or his cock head was responding to the smooth, soft tightness it was unexpectedly enjoying.

I made it to one thousand and ninety seven before Leena backed away. Not all the way. She went back to sucking on the guy's cock head. I went back to breathing. I guess that Leena went back to breathing too, because there was no way she had been breathing while she was nuzzling the stranger's groin. The guy's cock would have blocked her airways all that time, which made what she had just done all the more impressive.

The two guys watching grinned.

"Merde! Je la veux quand il a fini."

It was the guy who had already spoken who said it. My French was good enough to understand. He wanted his turn with Leena when the first guy was finished.

For all I knew, Leena was now doing something with her tongue on the guy's cock head, maybe playing with the eye, or with the frenum, but reading the guy's face, whatever she was doing, he was enjoying it. Then she started bobbing her head backwards and forwards. In effect, he was fucking her mouth, but it was Leena who was doing the moving, her hands still on the guy's butt, her arms controlling just how far she took his cock into her mouth. Every so often her nose was back at the guy's lower belly, her lips around the base of his shaft, and she would stay like that, not for ninety seven seconds, but long enough to let the guy enjoy just how deep she could take his cock head, giving the nerve endings of his head the sensations of opening up and sliding down her throat each time she did it, and each time I could see the same bulging of her slender neck.

Any guy can only take so much. He came. My guess is that the first spurt went straight down Leena's throat, because his cock was deep when he grunted with the exquisite torture of the first ejaculation. Leena would not have even tasted those first spurts of semen. They bypassed those sensory receptors. Once she sensed him ejaculating, Leena backed off, and the second load exploded right in her mouth. She would have had that bitter taste, but she did not seem to care, although she did back away completely, as more semen spurted from his cock. That hit her cheek, and then another, weaker jet of semen landed on her breasts.

Leena stared up at him. I read the expression in that look. The polite version was "You didn't think that I could do that". Less polite would be her saying just two words, "Fuck you!". Except there was something else as well in the look she gave the guy, intended not for him, but revealing of her thoughts. She looked self-satisfied, almost proud of what she had just done, and something told me that she had enjoyed it. In spite of how she had seemed to have been forced to do it, it seemed like for Leena, it had been fun.

That was where her problem began, except it seemed to be less of a problem for her than I would have expected. The guy who had been watching, who had spoken last, saying that he wanted his turn with Leena, waited until the first guy backed from where he had been standing. Then he moved to take his place, offering his own cock to Leena's lips. Leena opened her mouth again. As she did so, a fourth guy emerged from between the dunes.

I had had a ring side seat for Leena's demonstration of fellatio with the first guy, but now I felt like an intruder on her one woman show. As she started to suck a second cock, I got up, picked up my bag and towel, and moved a respectable distance from where things were happening, to a little way up the slope of one of the dunes. I sat down on my towel, watching. After a bit I decided to take the risk. Photographers take photographs. I got out my camera. It is not often that you get the chance to take live action shots of a stunning woman sucking cock, or of semen spurting, or of it slowly sliding down a sultr,y smiling face.

***********

"Babe!" my husband called.

Mike was in what we call our office. Americans have dens. We Brits are just that bit more formal. He and I share the office, a desk each on opposite walls, both with large high definition screens, mine to view and edit photographs, his to do the serious gaming without which a guy's life on this earth would have no meaning.

I was in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher. Female emancipation is yet to be achieved but at least technology has made some things easier. I put away the last few dishes, letting Mike wait in case he thought I was a servant, and then put my head around the office door to see what he wanted. I love the guy, but I do not exist purely to be at his beck and call.

"What the fuck are these?" Mike asked, looking at his lap-top screen. I saw what he was looking at, and it was not a still from any game he played that was lit so brilliantly on the thirty-two inch screen. My stomach heaved.

It was the money shot, or at least one of the money shots. There were others. Ten that I had kept, having selected them a while after Leena and I had gotten back from France. This was the one of Leena smiling so ecstatically when she had just given successive blow jobs to more than a dozen of the dune guys. They had just kept appearing, as if drawn there by some kind of sexual homing instinct, and having brought one guy off by sucking and deep throating him, Leena had just carried on, swallowing some, and ignoring the blobs and globules of thick semen that had escaped her ravenous, accommodating mouth, and had been spurted across her face, onto her neck and over her breasts. Not just ignoring it, but proud of it, smiling broadly. This was the close up shot. There was no mistaking who she was, and no confusing the complex pearl necklace Mike's sister-in-law was wearing for real pearls.