I think we both woke about the same time on Saturday morning. The red mark on Sarah’s jaw line had turned black and blue, and was now more of a bruise than just a mark from the night before.

Just by being there on the bed with Sarah cuddled close, I had a hardon.

“Want to go for a drive today?” she asked, as she held my cock in her hand and slowly began to stroke it.

“What are you thinking?”

Sarah slowly slid her hand up and down my shaft, making sure to run her hand over the sensitive head. She knew the game. As long as she played with my cock, I wasn’t about to say no to anything she wanted to do.

“I’d like to go to Kennebunkport. I haven’t been there in a long time."

“I’ve never been there,” I told her, as that feeling of pleasure in my gut began to spread throughout my body.

A plan quickly developed. Coffee, eggs, and toast for breakfast; a shower; a couple of jackets, in case the weather changed, and more coffee to go.

First, however, what Sarah had started needed to be finished.

Ever the experienced woman that she is, Sarah worked slowly, but methodically, and whispered little thoughts of what she liked about my cock. Within a few minutes she had me moaning and shaking, with clear, sticky pre-cum oozing out and running down over my shaft and her fingers. I sprayed hot cum over my stomach and her hand, as my orgasm quickly washed over me and I lost all control.

We lay on the bed a few more minutes. Sarah slowly stroked my weakening shaft, coaxing every drop of seed out of my manhood. I tried to catch my breath while I enjoyed the afterglow of a morning orgasm.

Kennebunkport, on Maine’s rocky coast, is full of little shops and restaurants, which we explored for most of the afternoon. But it was an old, two-story waterfront inn, a former sea captain’s house, that caught our attention. We ended up having dinner at the Inn before returning to the city.

………………….

Sarah’s phone call came about 10:30 p.m. on a Thursday night.

“I’m horny,” she informed me. “Interested in getting together?”

Sarah was on one of her many business trips, visiting stores that were under her general management. She was in upstate New York, but was interested in seeing me the next day, and for the weekend, and suggested that we might meet at the Old Inn in Kennebunkport.

If I could call and get us a room for the weekend, as soon as she finished her work on Friday she would drive directly to Kennebunkport and meet me.

“Did I mention that I was horny?” she asked, before we hung up.

The thing was that Sarah rarely expressed her need for sex, preferring, I think, to just act on those needs. Telling me that she was horny certainly had caught my attention.

I made a reservation about five minutes after talking with Sarah. I called her back to confirm that we were all set, and to give her an approximate time that I would get to the Inn.

Friday was a rainy but warm day. It’s an easy drive to Kennebunkport, which is located in southern Maine. There was little traffic, particularly for an early Friday afternoon, and I arrived earlier than I had expected, somewhere around 2:00 p.m.

The front desk at the Inn let me check in early. The room was larger than most hotel rooms, with a view to both the front of the Inn, as well as the backyard and ocean. I opened the windows for a cool cross-breeze.

Other than its size, this was your typical New England sea-side, old resort, hotel room. There was a large four-posted, canopied bed, small couch with two stuffed chairs, coffee table, a little dining table with four ladder-back chairs, side tables and lamps, and a bathroom that was last modern at the beginning of the 1940’s.

Sarah, a bath person, was going to love the big, claw foot bathtub. But if you are a shower person, like me, it was not the best set-up. The tub had one of those wrap-around shower curtains that usually let water run out onto the bathroom floor, a small shower head that stood three feet over my head, and nothing to grab hold of should one slip in the tub.

I unpacked and set out to explore the Inn.

There was a formal dining room, with small, square tables, white linen table cloths, and a white china setting; a smaller, pine paneled dining room that served food in a less formal, family-style format, with big plates and bowls of self-serve food; and an indoor and outdoor bar.

To one side of the outdoor bar was a deck and pool; directly behind the bar area was a small grassy “play area”, a postage stamp size beach, and, to either side of the beach, big, dark, jagged rocks.

At the right of the small beach was a long, curving, rock jetty with a blinking white and red warning light at the very end. The jetty curled out into the ocean water, protecting the Inn’s beach swimming area.

I sat at a table under the covered portion of the outdoor bar, had an alcoholic beverage, read the Inn’s brochure, and scanned the ocean for ships or whatever else might be out there. Light rain landed softly on the plastic overhead cover and dripped off the edge in front of me. It was muggy, yet cool, with a breeze coming up.

“Hey sailor, buy a girl a drink?” I heard from behind me.

Sarah had arrived. I was somewhere in the middle of alcoholic beverage number two.

She wore a light green scarf over her hair, and a shiny, dark green raincoat, with its belt tied tightly around her waist. Underneath the raincoat, from her multi-ring pearl necklace to her black high heel shoes, she was still in her work clothes.

Sarah had made good time in her long drive from New York to Maine.

From where she was in New York to somewhere in Vermont, she'd thought about the stores she had visited, what she might include in her report to the company, and what negative things she would keep to herself and correct when she had the opportunity.

From Vermont to New Hampshire she thought about new dress designs and fabrics she could use.

From New Hampshire to Kennebunkport, however, all she thought about was sex, and all the things she and I might do in or out of bed.

“Order me a Bloody Mary.” she told me, as the waitress walked toward our table.

Sarah read the Inn’s brochure, and I told her a little about the room and what I had observed so far. Having had dinner at the Inn a few months before, she was already familiar with the general layout of the Inn’s interior. But since it was dark out when we had that dinner, she had not had the opportunity to see the Inn’s surroundings.

Now, sitting with a drink in her hand, and beginning to relax, she looked out over the beach and rocks, and scanned the horizon, or at least as far as one could see in the misty, light rain.

“Will they let you walk out to the end of the jetty?” she asked.

I didn’t know the answer to her question, but I could see the gears turning in her mind. Sometime this weekend, we were going to navigate the jetty rocks all the way to the blinking light.

Sarah and I retrieved her bags from her car and brought them to the room. She took a quick look around and then ushered me out the door while she took a bath and changed.

I returned to the bar, and on the way inquired about walking out on the jetty.

“People do it all the time,” I was told by the young man at the front desk. “Just be careful. When the rocks are wet they can be very slippery.”

Even as I sat down again at the outdoor bar, I watched two young women make their way over the broad, flat rocks of the jetty, eventually reaching the old rusty, angle-iron tripod at the end, which held the blinking light high above the jetty.

It was near dinner time, and there was more activity at the Inn and both bars than when I had first arrived. I switched my drink to a Bloody Mary. It was served with a bowl of warm, assorted nuts. I proceeded to eat them all, asked for more, and ordered a shrimp cocktail. Sarah was taking her time, and I was hungry.

Sarah joined me, wearing a t-shirt, shorts, a navy blue sweater tied around her neck, and sneakers. Make-up had been removed and she seemed more relaxed and playful.

It was lobster night at the Inn, so the place was crowded with both locals and visitors. We ate dinner in the family-style dining room, got some tips from the locals as to where to shop and eat, and retired once again to the outdoor bar.

It had stopped raining.

We watched three or four groups make their way out to the end of the jetty. And we also watched a fog bank way off in the distance, but moving closer. Two men at the table next to us informed anyone who would listen that if the conditions were right, the fog would roll right in and cover the whole coastal area.

Sarah wanted to go out on the jetty before the fog reached shore.

Getting out to the end of the jetty was not that difficult. The rocks were mainly flat and easy to walk on, although still a bit slippery from the rain. We were surrounded by cold Atlantic Ocean waters, cold enough to make the air at the end of the jetty cool but clammy. And the longer we stayed out on the jetty, the cooler it became; enough so that Sarah had to put on her sweater.

Sitting on the rocks next to the towering angle iron light support were two other couples watching the fog bank approach. Minutes after we arrived, the other couples began to make their way back to shore, wanting to get back to the Inn before the fog enveloped the jetty.

Sarah and I stayed for a few more minutes, taking in the view back towards the Inn and the town just beyond. When I suggested we start back, Sarah wanted to stay for just a few more minutes. When I suggested that it would be difficult to see our way back if we stayed out on the jetty much longer, she proposed staying and seeing what it would be like sitting out on the jetty in the fog.

Within minutes, we were surrounded by a mist so thick that we could hardly see each other. The only sound was that of the waves lapping at the jetty rocks. Even our voices seemed deeper, thicker, and slower in the fog. It was eerie, and probably dangerous, but it was an adventure. And Sarah liked adventures.

We sat on the rocks, Sarah’s arm curled around mine, as the fog became thicker; so much so that we could hardly see each other’s face even though we were sitting side by side.

“Ever fooled around in the fog?” she asked.

“I’ve never even sat in the fog before,” I said with a laugh.

“Want to?” Sarah asked.

“You’re kidding!” I responded.

“No one can see us.”

Sarah reached between my legs and began rubbing her hand over my limp shaft.

“I can’t even see you.” I told her.

“We’ll just do it for a few minutes and see what it’s like.” she said, now running her hand over a developing erection trapped within my shorts.

At Sarah’s request, I unzipped my shorts and released my manhood into the cool, sticky air. Sarah quickly gripped my warm, solid shaft with her cold hand and fingers.

Her icy touch made me jump.

We moved closer together as she slowly caressed my cock, which was already throbbing and leaking pre-cum. I could smell Sarah’s lilac perfume as it hung in the thick air surrounding us, but I could not see Sarah. I could not even see my cock and her hand.

Sarah’s slow stroking, and particular attention to the sensitive, now well lubed crown of my manhood, sent waves of pleasure through my body. Not having the ability to see what Sarah was doing, I could only concentrate on the touch of her hand and the pleasure she was imparting. It was a new sensation; no visual stimulation, just pleasure, both physical and mental.

Blood rushed to my face, my breath quickened, and my body went limp. I leaned back and surrendered to Sarah’s touch.

Sarah, without sight, could only feel. And what she felt seemed bigger to her; longer, thicker, heavier. Her senses played with her mind, and her roguish interest in teasing my cock in the fog became more of a focused plan of action. The thought of mischievous sex in the envelope of fog had grown to a naughty desire, a need.

Sarah wanted my man seed.

“Stand up.” she whispered. It was a voice coming from nowhere and everywhere.

I experienced an odd, yet exciting feeling of pleasure, submission and compliance. My cock was being lightly stroked and massaged by a talented hand I could not see. A soft female voice spoke to me out of the fog, seemingly from all directions at once. There was no visual context. Pleasure held my body and mind, causing me to settle into the rocks and accept the inevitable outcome of Sarah’s playful stroking. I did not want to move for fear that this magical moment would end.

“Stand up.” Sarah whispered again, breaking the spell.

As I stood, Sarah held onto my arm for fear that we would lose each other in the fog.

The footing was unstable, and the rocks were slippery wet from the mist. I had no sense of direction. The sounds of the ocean encircled me. I became disoriented. I was only conscious of Sarah holding my arm and the cool, wet air on my stiff shaft as it waggled in the fog.

As Sarah reached to undo my belt, I suggested we find a spot next to the wrought iron triangle which held the warning light at its peak. I needed something to lean against, or at least hold onto; I needed an anchor; a reference point.

I looked up and found the blurry warning light in the fog and was able to make my way to the rusted iron stand with Sarah holding onto my arm. Still unable to see in the fog, I walked right into the structure, poking my erection against the cold steel frame.

But for the thick fog, it would have been a sight to see. Here were two fog-blind people making their way slowly and cautiously along wet, slippery rock slabs. One with a large, exposed erection, bobbing back and forth and up and down; the other with a death grip on the other’s arm fearing that she may slip and fall, or worse, lose contact and get lost at the end of an ocean jetty; and both reaching for iron bars that were there, but could not be seen.

Having found the rusted light stand, I rested my back against it and secured my footing. I held Sarah to me for a few seconds before she dropped to a squatting position in front of me, unbuckled my belt, and slid my pants and underwear to my ankles.

Two cold, wet hands held my erection, stroking it slowly but steadily, before a warm mouth engulfed the swollen head.

I ignored the chill and wetness, accepted that I could not see or watch Sarah’s expert tongue and mouth work on my cock, and closed my eyes and enjoyed the pleasure she was providing.

Sarah, also apparently ignoring the conditions, worked her mouth and tongue over the plump head of my cock in a serious effort to make me cum.

Without the sense of sight, I focused on what I was feeling, the pleasure, and enjoyed a great blow job being given by a talented and skillful lady.

The sensation had started in the pit of my stomach; a spark that soon spread a hot blaze of pleasure to my thighs, up my spine, and then to every recess of my body. It came in waves, pulsating through my body, spreading the fire of lust and need. Shocks of ecstasy and delight cascaded through my being and down to my very core, making my body jerk, back arch, legs weak, and those little involuntary guttural sounds of pleasure escape my mouth. I held onto the cold steel frame of the jetty light with both hands.

In very little time, I was close enough to unloading my seed that I told Sarah that if she didn’t slow down, I was going to cum. Sarah did not stop or even slow down. She held my shaft with both hands and sucked on the enlarged head until I could take no more.

“I’m going to cum!” I blurted out, now at the point of losing all control.

Sarah did not stop.

I quickly reached the point of no return, when there is nothing one can do but surrender to the wishes, wants and needs of your body.

Sarah was not in any hurry. She slowed just enough to keep me at the edge. There was no question that I was going to cum; it was simply a matter of when Sarah would let me cum.

The master that she is, Sarah kept me on the edge for several more minutes, slowing her movements until she had stopped stroking altogether. She held the base of my shaft in one hand, and my balls in the other hand, and just flicked her rough tongue over and around the sensitive, plump head. Salty pre-cum flowed from my leaking manhood.

I could not move. My body and soul were numb with pleasure. Time stood still. I needed the sweet release of an orgasm.

“Please,” I said weakly, just before I exploded.

There was a harsh, raspy noise, maybe a yell, possibly a scream that bounced off the fog and surrounded us. It was a voice from deep within me, although I had no ability at the time to discern that it was me expressing vocal pleasure as my release finally came and cum raced through my cock seeking its destination.

I experienced one strong contraction after another as my body was thrown back against the light stand. I shot ribbons of white goo into the cool sea air. I heard Sarah struggle with the thick fluid as she tried to swallow my load.

When my pleasure was over, I stood in the fog, still disoriented, holding onto the light tower, and shaking from the experience. Sarah, after a few minutes of gentle stroking, licking and sucking, stood and hugged me.

For a few moments at least, it did not matter where we were, or how wet and cold we were, or even that there was some danger involved. Two bodies had become one, alone in the fog, at the end of an ocean jetty.

My erection quickly faded in the cold, wet air, while strings of cum continued to ooze out of the tip and drip down my leg.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked, knowing full well what my answer would be.

I did not tell her at the time, but that blow job was one of those experiences that is never forgotten. It is a permanent memory. One of those experiences that is called to mind each time there is a mist or fog, or even when there is just a chill in the air.

………….

Sarah had begun to stroke my cock hard and fast just as I'd unloaded the first thick spurt of cum. Without any visual perspective, she'd struggled in the fog to catch each long string of goo in her mouth. At the time, I was not aware, nor could I see, that in the throes of my orgasm I had actually draped multiple ribbons of cum across Sarah’s face.

Sarah had only a single piece of tissue paper in her pocket with which to wipe cum off her face. Ultimately, she ended up having to use the arm of her wet sweater to clean her face of the sticky fluid.

Sarah held onto me as I pulled my wet, cold underwear and pants up, giving my limp cock and balls another shock.

The task now was getting off the jetty and back to the Inn. The flat rocks that were somewhat easily traversed on the way out were now not only invisible, but wet and slippery.

Led by Sarah, it was a long, uncomfortable journey, wet and cold, and on our hands and knees, feeling our way along from rock to rock.

Reaching the beach, the Inn could be seen as a blur of lights in the thick fog. We made our way quickly to and through the outside bar, into and through the dimly lit inside bar, then past the front desk to the main stair case.

Sarah was moving quickly, staying about ten steps in front of me. The first indication of any problem was the look on the man’s face at the front desk. He looked at Sarah as she scooted by, and then looked at me with what I thought was a quizzical, but knowing little smile.

Halfway up the stairs, Sarah passed a young family on its way down. I watched as the two young boys hurried down the steps, never even giving Sarah a glance. The mother, however, started to say hello to Sarah, and then jerked her head back as if she had seen a ghost. She pushed the two boys along down the stairs.

Sarah must have looked strange with her hair and clothes all wet.

The husband, at first, looked surprised. Then, hustling past me on the stairs, he gave me a smile and a nod. I thought nothing of it.

Sarah reached the room door before me, but I had the room key. She turned towards me as she waited until I caught up to her.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw her face, shoulder, and arm.

Sarah had two thick lines of cum that started just above her nose, and ran from the middle of her forehead, up over the top of her head. A third ribbon of cum graced her left shoulder, standing in contrast from the dark color of her sweater. And her sweater arm had streaks and gobs of cum all along the forearm area.

There wasn’t any question about it. In the light, anyone looking at Sarah, anyone with any sexual experience, would have realized that Sarah had cum on her forehead, hair, shoulder and arm.

I laughed as I opened the room door.

“What?” she wanted to know.

I said nothing, moving her instead to the mirror over one of the dressers.

At first she just stared at herself in the mirror. Then came a roar of laughter, followed by questions.

“Do you think anyone saw it?”

“I think the bar was too dark, but judging from the look on the guy’s face at the front desk, I think he knew what it was. And I’m pretty sure the mother and father we passed on the stairs knew as well.”

“I looked right at the two little boys! Oh my God, did they see it?”

“I don’t think they did, but Mom certainly pushed them down the stairs just in case they did look up.”

“Oh my God. I’m so embarrassed. I’m not leaving the room for the rest of the weekend.”

…………..

A shower was needed anyway, so Sarah removed her wet clothes, showered, and returned to the room with her hair in a towel and wearing a terry cloth robe provided by the Inn.

I had wanted to join Sarah in the shower, but, as I have previously noted, the shower really didn’t appear safe for two people.

When I came back into the room after my shower, Sarah was sitting up in the canopied bed, the bed covers over her legs, and her bare breasts and hard nipples prominently displayed.

She didn’t have to say anything. It was Sarah’s turn for some attention.