The Stranger on the Beach

In high school, I had a reputation for being a goody two shoes. I got straight A+s, was the leader of several clubs, and got accepted early decision into an Ivy League school. Dating and sex were simply not part of my life. By the time I graduated, I had still not as much as held hands with anyone.

So, nobody would have suspected that underneath my nerdy, wholesome exterior was a ragingly horny slut. Nobody, that is, except Austin.

I met Austin just before my 18th birthday, during the summer between high school and college, while on a family vacation. I’d brought a friend along with me, and one night, we decided to head to the beach and hang out on a lifeguard chair. Liam and a friend of his were walking by and stopped to say hello to us, and we got into a conversation. Soon, his friend had left, and it was just us three.

Austin was tall and muscular with dark hair, sensual lips, and a bit of facial hair. I could tell he was older, though I wasn’t sure quite how old he was. Just old enough that it felt a bit taboo but not entirely creepy when he got up on the chair and sat close to me. Just old enough that it seemed a tad inappropriate yet also enticing when he told me, “I like to go skinny dipping in this ocean. Do you want to join me?”

I was done being a goody two shoes. The ragingly horny slut in me was ready to come out. “I’m in,” I giggled nervously. He offered me a hand to pull me up, and we jumped off the lifeguard chair together. On the sand, he took off his shirt to reveal a toned chest and arms, then his shorts, then his underwear. I realized I had never actually seen a guy naked up close. I gazed timid yet mesmerized by the sizable, circumcised cock dangling between his legs. Then, it was my turn.

I pulled my tank top over my shoulders, revealing my perky C cup breasts, and then pulled down my skirt and underwear, exposing my round ass and full bush. “Wow,” he said when he looked at me. “You have a beautiful body.”

“Really?” I asked. I wasn’t used to getting compliments like that.

“You’re, like, perfectly proportioned,” he said.

“It’s always the most gorgeous girls who don’t see themselves accurately,” my friend chimed in. A surge of electricity shot through me as I experienced the ability to entrance a man with my body for the first time. I ran my hands over my hips, learning to enjoy the way they curved softly outward like an hourglass as I felt his eyes take me in.

Even though it was pretty evident at that point that Austin was coming on to me, my friend joined in our skinny dip. I checked out Austin’s muscular ass and legs as he walked into the ocean, then followed him, wading in the water until its cold temperature became too much for me. Austin offered me a towel when I got out, his hands running up and down my previously untouched body as he wrapped it around me and dried me off. As he did it, I leaned my ass against his crotch just enough for him to take it as a cue only if he wanted to.

Then, we sat down on the beach and started talking. I didn’t bother to get dressed at that point; I could tell that Austin — who, I learned, was 34 — was enjoying the sight of my hard nipples pointed up at him, and I became excited seeing his cock slightly grow and point toward the star-speckled sky.

It wasn’t long before the conversation shifted to the topic on all our minds: sex. Austin told us his mom was an OB/GYN, so he could answer any sex questions we had. The thought of discussing R-rated topics with this attractive, naked, older man was titillating, so I thought of a question immediately.

“Where exactly is the G spot?” I asked. “I’m not sure if I even have one because I feel nothing when I put in tampons.” Yeah, did I mention I was innocent?

He laughed. “No, a tampon won’t do anything. You have to really get in there. Do you want me to show you?”

At that point, my virgin pussy was dripping wet and gaping open, and it wanted nothing more than to feel someone else’s touch. Yes, please, now, I was thinking in my mind. But I played it coy, giggling “sure” and spreading my legs for him, just slightly enough that he could see my swollen pink lips peeking out.

He crawled over to me on the sand, reached his hand between my legs, slowly inserted one finger, and… holy shit. So that’s what all the fuss was about. My whole body came alive as he reached his finger deep inside me then stroked the upper wall of my pussy. My head tilted back as a moan escaped my lips. I had never felt anything so intense.

Sensing how desperately my body needed to be pleasured, he asked, “Do you want me to go down on you?” All I could do was nod my head, “yes.” It was almost painful how badly I wanted it.

I’m not sure what my friend was thinking at that point. I couldn’t even stop to consider the fact that she was right there beside us as he spread my legs apart and started running his hands up and down my slender but curvy body. In fact, I could not think of anything at all once he put his head between my legs and started licking my clit. His tongue felt nothing like my own hands had. The sensation was soft yet firm and so satisfying, as if his mouth had been designed for my pussy. I started moaning and whimpering as he licked me up and down.

After a bit, he came up for a break, grabbed my hair in his hand, and started making out with me. And that was my first kiss.

At that point, my friend sensed that she was no longer welcome, so she told me she was going to bed. Once she left, Austin suggested we go over to the sand dunes, where it was a little more secluded, and continue what we started.

For what felt like at least an hour, Austin got between my legs and continued kissing and licking my pussy, his hands caressing my breasts, making me squirm and scream and moan. We weren’t that far from the houses lined up along the beach, including the one my family was renting, but I was going too wild with pleasure to even think about that. I got louder and louder as he brought me to peak after peak, then back down again, then back up. I cried out for more; I never wanted it to stop, and he obliged, licking my pussy like his life depended on it.

After this seemingly endless oral sex marathon, Austin got up and kissed me, his body fitting between my spread legs, his cock brushing against my pussy. He reached one of his fingers in and started stroking the upper wall of my vagina again. “I can feel your pussy expanding,” he said. “It really wants to be penetrated.” I knew what he meant. But it felt like too much to lose my virginity on the same night I had my first kiss. I wanted to save that for when I was in love.

“I’m not ready to do that yet,” I told him.

“All right,” he said. “How about we do this, then?”

He grinded against me so that his cock moved up and down the length of my pussy, rubbing against my clit. I moaned in ecstasy again, my nails digging into his back as he pleasured me this way for what seemed like another hour. I arched my back and rocked back and forth against him, my legs involuntarily spreading as if to invite his cock in, but he respected my boundary and didn’t ask me about that again. Once we’d worn ourselves out, we exchanged numbers with the hope of continuing at a later date. Even though I was getting tired, my body had still not had enough.

When I got back to the room my friend and I were sharing, she chastised me. “He could’ve been a rapist, you know,” she said. I figured she was just jealous. I lay down in bed and started fucking myself with my own finger, relishing the memory of what I’d just experienced.

The next day, I felt like a new woman. In fact, I felt like a woman for the very first time in my life. I felt more comfortable in my body than I ever had before. My insecurities fell away as I gained an appreciation for what my body could feel, how it could connect with another person.

“I want more,” I texted Austin the next afternoon. “Meet me back at the lifeguard chair tonight?”

That night, to my friend’s chagrin, I returned to the beach. Once again, I lay down on a sand dune and let him kiss and lick all over my body, from my neck and my breasts to my hips and inner thighs and pussy. Given how much I was screaming as he finger-fucked me, I’m surprised we never got caught. At one point, we saw a police car driving down the sand and huddled inside a towel, but it never stopped. So, we just continued, his head buried between my legs until I couldn’t take anymore.

The next day, I had to go back to my family’s house, then away to college. I sat in class daydreaming about Austin and our two magical nights together. I wasn’t in love with him by any means, just awakened and infatuated. While I was in school, he sent me an email confessing that he’d been attracted to my “nervous longing.” Attached was a photo of himself with his shirt off, his bulge noticeable through his jeans, and his hand reaching down to attend to it. I saved it on my computer and looked at it while I pleasured myself.

A few days into school, we had phone sex, and he described an intoxicatingly hot scenario to me. I’d come over to his place in Brooklyn, and we’d watch Jeopardy (a show we both liked), high-fiving each other as we got the answers right. Then, he’d slowly undress me, bring me into his shower, and run his soapy hands up and down my body, teasing me until my pussy was begging to be touched.

After that, he’d carry me to his bed, pleasure me again and again with his hands and mouth, then get on top of me and slowly penetrate me with his thick, hard cock, making me whimper as he thrust himself in deeper.

“Do you want me to give it to you hard, or do you want me to give it to you slow?” he asked.

“Both,” I replied, my fingers reaching deep into my pussy to emulate the pleasure I imagined him bringing me.

“OK, I’m gonna fuck you slow and hard and deep and steady… until I feel you cum all over my cock.”

I wanted that. Badly.

But when I thought about it, I just didn’t feel ready. Traveling to another state for a sexual experience seemed a little extreme when there were plenty of people my own age right on my campus. And I didn’t feel entirely comfortable staying over with someone I’d only met up with twice. Being intimate with him in public had almost felt safer: I could have left at any time. The memories we’d created thus far had managed to be free from any messiness one might expect between a teenage girl and a 30-something man, and I wanted to preserve that purity. So, that was the last we spoke.

Still, the experiences we shared provided fodder for fantasy for years to come — and set the stage for me to expect relationships where my pleasure was front and center. Say what you want about age differences; my older lover taught me well. Thanks to him, my inner slut was freed.

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