“You want me to lie on the beach?” she asked doubtfully. The shingle contained numerous sharp little pebbles and didn’t look especially comfortable.
“No.” He began to unzip the fly of his leather trousers, then eased them down over his hips. His erection sprang out, unconfined by any underwear, looking hard and angry and more than ready to take out its rage on her. Leaving the trousers dropped to midthigh level, he sat his bare arse down on the rock and beckoned Flipp over. “Bring the gloves,” he suggested, bewilderingly.
She handed them over and he placed each one at either side of him. “Padding,” he explained. “For your knees.” He reached inside his trouser pocket and brought out a rubber, skinning it on with practised speed. “Come on, then. I’ve taken you for a ride today. Now you can return the favour.” Brazenly he leaned back on his palms, letting his upright staff do the rest of the inviting.
Well, it would be rude not to, wouldn’t it? Flipp planted her feet outside his legs and steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. Shuffling up the long line of his lower limbs, she was eventually able to establish herself on the rock, kneeling on the gloves. He grabbed her bottom and helped her to lower her body, down and down, until her sex hovered over his, ready for the plunge.
She took it inside her slowly, savouring each inch of length and each fraction of stretching girth, looking him in the face with round, astonished eyes and mouth. Oh, it feels so good. Oh, it’s been so long. Oh, it is so long. And so thick. And so good. She yielded and flexed, admitting him all the way in until she sat fully astride the magnificent monster, impaled to the hilt. It felt so comfortable that, for a long time, they just sat there, connected at their roots and at their lips, kissing hungrily and feeling the evening breeze on their naked flesh, until Rocky grew impatient, slapped her bum hard and growled, “Come on, you’ve got work to do. Ride that cock horse hard.”
Flipp gave him her all; every shred of strength and effort went into the endeavour of milking him dry. She circled, ground, clenched, sucked, bit, tongued, palmed, pinched, keeping that lovely long stick of rock well buried inside. She made him sigh, then pant, then moan, then clamp his mouth over her nipple and suck for all he was worth, his eyelashes fluttering against her breast. He gripped her bottom cheeks so hard she thought he would leave finger marks as he pushed her, forced her back down on his rod, reminding her that she was filled and that she was his.
“That’s it, deeper, baby, harder, sweetheart,” he raved, releasing her nipple once he had sucked it almost purple. “Fucking ride it, ride it, take it, take it. Are you going to come? I want to make you come again.”
This simple statement of intent always seemed to do the trick for Flipp. She slapped her hands down hard on his shoulders, squeezed her muscles tightly around his shaft and bore down, determined to drag the climax from inside him and bring it roaring into the open air. She began to gasp, short breaths, carrying the unmistakable whimper of orgasm, and then his voice was washing into the waves and gull cries and shifting shale, a different kind of force of nature, mixing perfectly.
She slumped into the hollow of his shoulder, only now realising how much of a sweat she’d worked up, hoping he wouldn’t mind an extra patch on his T-shirt. He moved his arms upwards from her arse to wrap around her back, holding her fast to the wall of his chest. She could feel his cock begin to soften, and despite her exhaustion, she was almost disappointed. Already she was afraid that she might not feel it hard again.
She looked up at him, his eyes half-closed, his lips lusciously bee-stung. He smiled absently at her. “Hmm? Good?”
“God, yeah,” she assured him. “Really good.”
“For me too. Probably for them as well.” He unwrapped one arm and pointed outwards to the bay, where suddenly a yacht had appeared, at anchor on the not too distant horizon.
“Fuck.” she yelped, trying to hop off and retrieve her underwear, but Rocky was holding on tightly and trapped her protestations of panic with a silencing kiss.
“It’s okay,” he murmured into her ear. “Unless they’re using binoculars, they won’t have seen much more than your arse.”
“That’s okay, is it?” she exclaimed. “Right.”
“Thought you were a kinky girl,” he teased. “Thought you might like the idea of flashing your bum at some rich yachtie business type. It turns me on.”
“I suppose you knew it was there.”
He chuckled. “My mind was on other things…but it might have flashed into my peripheral vision once or twice…”
“You bastard.” But Flipp wasn’t really angry. She was just too besotted, already, to quibble. And besides, she did have a nice tight arse.
“Sorry.” He kissed her once more, long and sloppily, smoothing her denim skirt back over her behind. “All better now?”
She stepped off his softened prick, pretending to pout while she gathered up her knickers and leggings. “It’s a good thing I like you,” she told him. “Or you’d be on my blacklist.”
“Oh yeah?” He grinned roguishly, tying a knot in the rubber and slipping it back into his trouser pocket. Yuck. Still, at least he was environmentally friendly. Not bad to the bone after all. “And what happens to the people who wind up on that?”
She pulled up her knickers and grinned roguishly back. “Dark, secret things.”
“Really?” The zip was back up, the beast contained. He picked up his belt, cracking it through the air before sliding it through its loops. “Sounds like I might want to be on your blacklist, then. I like dark, secret things. The darker and more secret, the better.”
“You should have been one of those wreckers.” Leggings on. Vests pulled back up. Fiddling and twiddling with her hair disaster. “You sound like their spiritual heir.”
“I think I might be their literal heir.” Crooked smile, buckling of belt.
“You don’t talk like a biker.”
“Oh, don’t I?” He laughed, a little defensively. “Aren’t bikers allowed to use long words, then, Flipp? Seeing as you’re the expert—never having met any.”
“Okay, you don’t talk like bikers in films and on TV.”
“You don’t talk like a girl on minimum wage in a penny arcade. Anything you’d like to share? Apart from bodily fluids?”