Beach

I was twenty-seven and hungry for everything. He had broad hands, gray eyes, and a cock that, that afternoon, still didn’t know it would be tasted before dawn.

I saw her walking at sunset, and when she spoke to me, I knew that night would be unlike any other in my life.

I saw him on the beach, we drank together that night, and when I closed the hotel door, I knew I'd end up on my knees sucking him without restraint.

I imagined your hands on the wheel and your cock in my mouth before reaching the sea; when the beach was empty, there was no stopping us.

After their shift, their glances were no longer innocent; when I closed my bedroom door, I knew that first time wouldn't end with a simple kiss.

One smile by the sea was all it took for me to know I wouldn't be sleeping peacefully that night.

I walked two kilometers along the shore looking for someone who could make me forget my name. Beside the eucalyptus, I saw him lying there, with balls like a bull.

When we saw the erection outlined beneath his swimsuit as he came out of the water, I knew that cove wasn’t going to end with a simple beer.

When she took off her bikini in front of strangers, I knew watching the sea wouldn’t be enough for me.

She led me from the porch to the bathroom without letting go of my hand, locked the door, and looked at me in the mirror as if she already knew how it would end.

We had spent years teasing him from the sand, but that afternoon my wife spread her legs wider, and I knew he wouldn’t be staying just to watch.

No one had ever sucked my cock in front of so many people. And the worst was still to come: what that shameless redhead would do to me at the last cove.

My wife returned from the neighbors’ place with blazing eyes, her pussy still trembling, and one clear condition: next time, I had to watch everything.

When the beach was nearly empty, her hand slid down my stomach, and I realized that last swim wouldn’t end as an innocent game.

When she showed up without her daughter and asked me to watch the sunset, I knew the night wouldn’t end with just sand and wine.

When I returned with another bottle, my wife was already naked at the center of the circle, and everyone was watching her as if the night were only just beginning.

We'd spent years getting naked without crossing the line, until a drunken shower by the beach turned those looks into something much dirtier.

At the nude beach, I realized she wasn’t lacking desire—only someone willing to push her where she had long wanted to go.

I only wanted them to stop ignoring me, even if getting there meant standing in front of everyone and letting them laugh while they watched me.

I saw her walking along the shore with her round belly and a smile that reminded me of everything we'd left unfinished.