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The weather was changing. The deliciously cool days of March had begun to give way to the hard heat of the wet season. Miami only had these two seasons, and there was a sadness to losing the near perfect temperatures of the dry tourist months. The upside, of course, was that he could finally return to the beach. The water was warm enough for a native Floridian, and the beaches were no longer intolerably crowded with snowbirds and spring breakers. Today was his first trip back since October, and to Haulover Park no less. He could actually say he felt excited, a depressingly rare sentiment as of late, and for the first time in days he wasn’t angry either.
Here I am — thought Marco — at last. The pathway cut through a cluster of brown sea grapes obscuring the view of the sea, allowing for a bright band of blue water and yellow sand to be visible, the sun hanging high above in the eastern sky. He removed his sandals, sticking his toes in the sand; it both burned his soles and felt wonderful. He bent low and picked up the sandals in one hand, the other holding his beach bag. Straightening, he expanded his well-muscled chest and took in the salty air, walking toward the light, past a sign that read: “ATTENTION: BEYOND THIS POINT YOU MAY ENCOUNTER NUDE BATHERS.” A elderly and ridiculously tan gay couple walked by, naked as fish. Freedom, he said to himself.
Marco’s wife hated the nude beach, so the only times he was able to go was when they were fighting. He had been coming here since high school. At first it was standard adolescent purility that brought him to Haulover Park, but it wasn’t what kept him coming back. Being on the beach or in the ocean without clothes seemed to him the most natural thing in the world. The rest of the time he felt unjustly trapped in a cruel society that forced clothes upon its unfortunate members. And though he mostly had a happy marriage, mostly, this was one subject on which they were bitterly divided. He had only convinced her to go with him once, and it had offended her Catholic sensibilities; moreover, it gave her the willies. She sat on the towel, never once taking off her bikini, which he vainly tried to explain was considered bad etiquette. They left soon after arrival, her angry and him embarrassed and hurt. He never brought it up again.
Good a spot as any, he thought, after approaching the water line, sufficient open space surrounding him. After unfurling his towel on the ground, he took off his shirt and threw it in the bag. He inhaled slightly, and dropped his shorts. A chubby woman in her fifties briefly noticed him then casually looked away. It still gave him a thrill. He took out his sunscreen can and sprayed himself, rubbing the oil all over his shaved head and hairless body. He was in good shape, and he could feel the eyes on him as he slowly worked the oil into his dark skin.
When was the last time his wife watched him take off his clothes? he wondered. Five years ago? Could it be that long? It sure felt that way. They had a good sex life, he supposed. But was it good enough? Was that part of life over? He blinked the thought away and lay down, facing the sea. He stared at it through black sunglasses and sighed. He did feel better now; yeah, he wondered, but better than what?
“Mr. Diaz?” Marco’s came to from his trance and looked up. Haloed by the sun stood a young woman wearing clothes. She had wavy brown hair, and the small white tee that hugged her fit body read ‘University of Miami Volleyball.’ Her little green boy shorts had the university logo on them. She was smiling at him with bright eyes and an seductively open mouth.
“Yes? Do we know each other?” he replied. She smiled even more widely.
“I’m Casey. Casey Rogers. You were my volleyball coach.” His lips involuntarily parted.
Right out of college and struggling to make his business work, Marco had picked up some extra cash teaching local youth volleyball for the city rec center. There were about fifteen or so students, and he believed he had forgotten all of their names. But Casey Rogers he did remember. She was a dogged player who ran down every ball, diving with abandon and playing as if winning were a necessity, the way only good athletes do. But she had been just a kid — skinny, awkward, immature. Nothing but potential.
“Oh my god — how, how did you recognize me?”
“Are you kidding? You look exactly the same! I mean . . .” She looked him up and down and laughed, not cruelly nor from embarrassment, but almost sweetly. Her eyes danced enchantingly.
“You sure don’t,” he said.
She lowered her eyelids dreamily, smiling with the confidence of a grown woman who knows how sexy she is. She was not a chiseled beauty; in fact, while her body was nearly perfect, Kastamonu Escort her facial features were somewhat ordinary. But there was something about her . . . an inner glow, an aura perhaps, that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was the dictionary definition of attractive. Suddenly, she frowned and put her hands on her high hips. “God, how long has it been? Like, seven years?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“What are you doing now? Still coaching?”
“No, I only did that for a year. I run my own business now. Catering.”
“Cool,” she said, nodding approvingly, taking the time to look him over; smiling again, as if reminding herself to whom she was talking and of what she was seeing. She wasn’t hiding how amusing she found this. His heart was fluttering.
“You?” he asked, his throat feeling dry. “How old are you now?”
“Oh,” she giggled, “Twenty-one. I’m in school at UM, one more year to go. I’m on the volleyball team!” She pointed to her sizable breasts where it was written. “Your class actually changed my life. You really instilled in me a love for the game.”
“Wow!” he exclaimed. “That’s amazing!” He meant it.
She leaned in a bit. “Do you . . . mind if I sit down here?” His heart beat even faster.
“Uh, sure. Of course.”
“I don’t wanna like bother you or anything . . .”
“No, it’s fine, really,” he said. He wasn’t confident he meant that.
She beamed at him and put her bag down, then sat right down in the sand. “Thanks! You know, this is my first time here,” she grinned, a bit sheepishly.
“A friend told me about it a while ago but I was always too chickenshit to come until today. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I feel like some old creeper is less likely to talk to me if I’m with you.” She shook her head. “Can’t believe I ran into Mr. Diaz! I gotta tell Sara Duarte. You remember her?”
“I – I think so?”
“We still talk,” she said, then took off her shirt, revealing a white bikini top. She gracefully rolled onto her back and pulled off her shorts, rolling back to seated in the same move. She radiated athletic energy, sexual energy. The old creeper is me, he thought.
She sat quietly for a moment, then looked at Marco impishly from the side of her eye. “I can’t believe I’m doing this in front of you,” she whispered loudly, and she reached back to undo the string on her bra. He chuckled. “Take a look around,” he replied calmly as he waved his hand along the horizon. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary.” But in truth, as he watched from behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses her breasts gently open, free from the tight constriction of her top, he was powerfully aroused for the first time in what felt like months. Her breasts were stunning: large, weighty, firm, evenly tanned, with attractive nipples and glistening sweat. He turned his head so as not to stare, gazing at the ocean but thinking of her.
She left her bottoms on and rummaged through the bag until she found some cream, which she applied to her face, her muscular legs, and her arms, carefully rubbing over her forearm tattoo, the word rekless written in cursive. Then she massaged her chest, making circling motions around and over her nipples. This time he couldn’t help but watch. She met his eye, smiling ever wider, biting her bottom lip ever so gently. “Can you get my back?” His face felt flush.
“Absolutely,” he replied coolly as he sat up and scooted toward her. She turned and pulled her wavy hair around to the front, slightly lowering her head. He squirted the cream into his hands and placed them on her upper back. Her skin was smooth and taut. He glided his hands up and down, smearing the lotion from her neck to her bikini bottoms, the tips of his fingers grazing the top of her rump. He detected her breathing quicken too, as she leaned back, touching his leg with her arm.
“All set,” he stated.
“Your turn!” she grinned. He smiled back and laughed.
“Alright, bet.” He rolled onto his stomach and placed his head on his heads, exposing his buttocks. He could feel her kneel down at his side.
An obese man with shriveled parts strolled by from their left; to their right, an elderly couple with sagging bodies read books in lawn chairs. A tall black man with a stud in his penis stood with his feet the water, smoking a cigarette. He felt her touch his shoulders and begin to massage them, her hair brushing against his back as she leaned her head toward his ear. “God, this place is so bizarre! Do you, like, come here a lot?”
“Not so much any more. Now and again.”
“So you like it here?”
“Yeah, I do. I feel . . . one with nature, something like that. You don’t like it?”
“It’s Kastamonu Escort Bayan just so . . . I mean I like it, I think . . . but, the bodies on these people,” she smirked. “The floppy boobs! And the tiny dicks! It’s overload.”
“I guess it’s part of the appeal. No one cares here. Everyone is comfortable in their own skin.”
“Even when they shouldn’t be,” she laughed.
“Who are we to judge? You gotta love yourself, right?”
“Easy for you to say,” she answered, as her hands passed over his ass. “You’ve got the hottest body here.” He felt dizzy.
“Look who’s talking,” he replied. He was smiling now as well. I’m flirting, he thought. He couldn’t the recall the last time he had. Something had awakened inside him.
She laughed at that. “Okay, I’ll rephrase that — you’ve got the best-looking cock on the beach.” He looked back at her; he was speechless. “Which reminds me: time for you to turn over.” Her eyes were twinkling.
“Wow. Okay, so it’s like that, huh?”
“I’m getting into the spirit of it, I guess.”
He pointed at her bikini bottoms. “Then why’d you leave those on, Rekless?'” She opened her mouth in mock outrage. “Is that a dare, Mr. Diaz? Are you daring me to take my pants off?” He rolled onto his back, his cock draping over his left thigh as he did so. He arched his eyebrows above his sunglasses in anticipation.
Her eyes flickered. She licked quickly at her lips and stood over him, slowly pulling at the string at the side of her bottoms. The front flap fell open, revealing a recently shaved mons pubis. She took them from between her legs, turning and bending over to put them in her bag, all while giving him an ample view of her outstanding posterior. He felt his cock swell perceptibly. She lay down in the sand opposite him, resting on her elbows, knees bent and feet apart, pussy lips staring him right In the eyes. Above that, her athlete’s stomach; above that her naturally full breasts; and above that, her lovely young face with sex on her mind.
“I’m married, Casey,” he got out. “Just so you know.”
She tittered. “Your cock’s gotten bigger since I took off my shorts.” He looked down. It wasn’t hard — thankfully — but it was noticeably engorged. “And it was pretty big before that.”
“Casey,” Marco said while sitting up, ” I am married. You are . . . unbelievable, and I’m grateful that you made my day a whole lot more interesting, but we gotta take a break and chill out or something . . .” She sat up as well, and took a seat on his towel next to him, furrowing her brow into a serious visage.
“Too bad,” she said. “I guess that means you can’t push my head down onto your fat cock until I start to suck it. Or does it?” She wrinkled her face. “‘Cuz I’m really curious how it would taste right now. How far down my throat I could get it?”
He must have looked horrified. Her seriousness melted into a playful hilarity as she fell onto his arm, touching his thigh. “Oh my god, your face!” She put her arm around his shoulders.
“Girl, you gotta chill. This ain’t cool, you hear me?”
“Oh dude, that is so hot,” whispered Casey as she looked down into his lap. His dick was stiffening, crawling up the side of his leg. “I think my pussy is getting wet. Can you tell?” She lay back again, knees open.
“Shit,” he said looking down. “I gotta jump in the water.” He stood up quickly, jogging down the slope, his semi-erect penis flopping about, and he dove into the turf.
He stayed underwater, motionless. Time felt paused, sluggish. He exhaled, a stream of bubbles escaping his lips, and he slowly fell to the bottom. What the hell is happening? he thought. He tried to picture his wife’s face but all he could see were Casey’s delectable thighs framing a twenty-one-year-old vagina. He felt nervous, quickened, guilty, alive.
He came to the surface in time to see her walking into the water. She dipped herself low, then rose again, her hair wet and sticking to her breasts. Then she lunged forward, swimming expertly towered him. She popped up about a foot away from him, with a happy look on her face that made her seem even younger.
“The water feels incredible! Why did we ever invent swimsuits?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I’m starting to get why you come here. It’s so . . .”
“Erotic,” she said, swimming closer, wrapping her legs around his.
“Hey, Casey . . .”
She looked to either side, reached down, and with her thumb and index finger she nonchalantly squeezed his penis. She looked up at him with cartoonishly widened eyes. “Uh huh?”
“What the fuck, girl,” is all he could say. Escort Kastamonu But he didn’t move; he didn’t push her away. Softly she placed her open mouth on his neck, tightening her hips into his hard cock. He took her ass in both his hands, supporting her, and he swayed side to side.
They silently danced like this for a few minutes. Suddenly she leaned backward and looked down at his now rock hard cock through the water. She giggled, proceeding to wrap her hand around it, letting go of it just as quickly. She did this a few more times in a steady rhythm.
His loins ached. “Jesus . . . you’re smokin’, girl . . . But I can’t . . . I just can’t . . .”
“Do you know what you are to me, Mr. Diaz?”
“Hey, please don’t call me that. Call me Marco.”
“I will not. Do you know what you are to me?” She had a new look in her eye and a change in her tone, but none of it altered the electricity of the moment. He felt on fire.
“No, what am I to you?”
“You’re my all-time fantasy. Today is straight out of a dream. I dreamed this all up, do you hear?” She raised her eyebrows innocently as she spoke, weakening his resolve. “This isn’t real. So you can do whatever you want, without any consequences, same as me, because this is all a sweet daydream I had seven years ago.”
She planted her lips onto his. He could taste the salt water as he passionately sucked on them.
She turned around, pushed her buttocks into his crotch, reached back and grabbed his cheeks between her fingers; She slid his wet, rubbery cock between her butt crack, gyrating her hips as if to music.
Mad with desire, he took her by the armpits, grunting low like a primate, and angrily lifted her up and onto his dick. She gasped, taken mildly by surprise, and looked back at him with crazy eyes as he began to thrust himself deep inside her. “Oh . . . That’s it . . . Ooh, just like that. Fuck me, Mr. Diaz . . . Just like that . . .” She squealed pleasurably. He looked to the shoreline; he noticed more than a few eyes watching them, leering foully.
“They know I’m fucking you, girl,” he growled. “They know what kind of a slut you are.”
“Such a fucking a slut,” she cried. He slid his hands from her armpits to her toned triceps, pulling her into him from there.
“That’s right . . . Look at that old creeper right there. He’s watching you take it.”
“I can see his cock . . . I can see all of their little cocks . . . “
“Where’s my cock, huh? Can you see my cock?”
“It’s too deep inside me . . . The hottest cock on the beach . . . Mr. Diaz’s muscle cock . . . Uhhhh . . .” She groaned as he let go of any pretense that they weren’t actually having sex — which was illegal, but no one who watched seemed interested in ratting them out — and he aggressively pulled her onto his swollen cock repeatedly. “Oh, Mr. Diaz! Fuck! You fucking wild man!”
“Gonna . . . come . . .” he moaned into her ear, taking hold of her marvelous tits, one in each hand. He pounded away faster, his wet cock chafing against her impossibly tight vaginal walls.
“Come inside me!” she let out while wincing in blissful pain. “I want it inside me!”
He lowered his right hand to her clit, parting her lips with his finger. Her moans grew frighteningly loud. He saw a middle-aged couple lying on the sand, watching them while stroking each other. “Oh my god, you little whore! You fucking little cumrag! Take it! Take it!” His lust and arousal were surging, darkening his words, clouding his soul, turning him ugly and bestial. He grabbed at her throat. Her eyes rolled back in her skull. They both opened their mouths at the same time and let out an identical noise of completion and release, from all possible boundaries or restrictions, like wolves or sea turtles or creatures from a bygone era. I’m free, he thought. I’m Free.
He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist. She kissed his cheek. They walked out of the water together, holding hands, ignoring the lascivious glares of judgment and envy.
For a time they lay with each other familiarly on his towel, mostly quiet, laughing softly, petting, cooing. After an hour or so, Casey sat up. “I gotta go,” she said.
He nodded. “Okay.”
She got dressed and collected her things. “Bye, Marco,” she said teasingly. “Maybe we’ll see each other here another day.” Her eyes still twinkled, but with something more.
“Good luck next year,” he said. “Go ‘Canes.” She laughed, winked at him, and waved with her fingers. He watched her walk away, disappearing into the thick of the sea grapes..
Marco looked at the ocean and exhaled. He picked up his phone. It was unusually hot from the sun, as if it might explode. He clicked over to his wife’s older messages. He read a few of them, back to before all of this mess had started, whenever that had been. He smiled until he thought he face might crack.
“Let’s get dinner out tonight,” he texted. “I miss you and love you.” A smiling emoji was her response.
“Wild man,” he said aloud.
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