“I swear if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’m going to go and have filthy, hot sex with that young guy in the next shack!”

The woman’s voice drifted in with the wind through my open window. To my knowledge, this was the first time she had acknowledged my existence.

I had been living on this cheap, rented beachside wooden cottage that was more like a shack, for the past four days now. Upon arrival, I had been a lone guest in the only kind of hotel service that was open here this time of the year. Monsoon was off season. And that had suited me fine. I had wanted to get away from the confines of my apartment in the city, stay close to nature and the quiet for a while. And write.

Over the course of the first two days, I was happy to infer that the arrangement was more than agreeable.  It was on the third day however, that the serene, grey landscape – presided over by shifting parties of heavy clouds – was pierced by the emergence of a sudden ray of sunshine, who walked with an older man across the stretch of sand towards the series of shacks where I was stationed.

I had been sitting with my breakfast on the porch, when I first saw the two of them.

The image would stay with me for a long time: a young Caucasian woman – shoulder length dark hair blown askew – walking hand in hand with her elder Caucasian male companion amidst a windy, grey morning at the beach. The tide was out at this time and the beach stretched wide, making them seem tiny in the landscape. It would be impossible for me to pinpoint exactly what, but there was a trace of something beguiling in their presence etched into the nooks and crannies of their mutually conversant physicality, as they moved increasingly closer to me across the sand. 

Over the course of the next two days, I would learn that the handsome new inhabitants of the shack beside mine, were indeed a couple. The woman would be somewhere in her mid-twenties. Her fit companion, while still looking like he might be double her age, participated in equal measure in her frolicsome wanderings on the beach.

I watched them from a distance, while trying (pretending?) to write, sitting with my laptop on the front porch table. They played with a frisbee, went for walks; upon a prolonged period of clear skies and bright sunshine on their second day they even went ahead to take a dip in the sea. When they were tired, they lay down on the sand next to each other. A delicate sensuality pervaded every moment of contact between the two, as though an invisible butterfly was tying a thread of a unique and intimate physical language around their beautiful bodies. A happy couple seemingly basking in the privacy of a nearly uninhabited patch of nature. Nearly. Me and the two employees overseeing the lodging and cooking at the shacks, were rendered invisible. Until this:

“I swear dad, if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’m going to go and have filthy, hot sex with that young guy in the next shack!”

It was now late at night, on the fourth day of my stay. Having accepted that I would not get much writing done, I had just tucked myself in for the night.

“You know I’m going to make him cum on my body, come back here and make you lick it all off,” her voice sounded even louder this time.

I would learn no more presently. Perhaps her threat had worked, or perhaps it had all been a performance as part of some bizarre kink, for there were neither loud conversations any further, nor any visitation upon my shack. At length, I slept, mind and body wrapped in a soft fabric of amorous dreams too complicated to be put into words.

I woke late the next day and found no sign of the couple anywhere. Perhaps they had gone for a hike into the forest up the slope of the hill behind us. Or perhaps taken a stroll into the fishing village. I forced my mind to focus and got some writing done. Between intermittent cloudy weather and bright sunshine, it was a warm day that ended in a glorious orange haze as the sun sank upon the water.

The two lovers appeared back at the shacks at the stroke of dusk, giggling, perhaps reliving their adventures of the day – her dressed in a bikini top and denim shorts with a string backpack, him in a pair of shorts, also with a backpack – lit by the dying sun in a way that rendered them with the quality of the ephemeral. It was difficult to decipher, when upon the steps of their shack she casually turned in my general direction, as to whether her lovely smile was purposed towards me by way of greeting, or whether it was merely the lingering of a giggle she was sharing with the man.

I spent the evening playing cards with the management, over a few cans of beer, inside their large kitchen. They were both relatively young, no more than in their mid-twenties. A few years younger than me. Their minds were visibly elsewhere, and I won most of the rounds. Every once in a while, one or the other of them would go to the lovers’ shack to see if they needed anything. They did. A few beers and some snacks.

The warm, humid evening condensed into a night of drizzling. Having finished a seafood dinner of supreme quality, I congratulated the duo on a lovely feast. The couple had had theirs in their room. Afterwards, I sat for a while at my porch gazing out at the sea which was lapping ferociously upon the shore. Soon however, the beer, the wonderful food and the weather had me sinking into the embrace of sleep. I made myself get up, crept into my bed under the blanket, and dozed off.

When I woke, the first thing I did was to look at my phone for the time. It was close to dawn. The second thing I noticed was the noise of the rain hurtling down at pace outside, and upon the roof of my shack. It was only after this that I registered her shape in the darkness, standing over me by the bed.

“Good, you’re awake,” said the young woman from the shack next door.

I could see now that her hair was dripping wet.

“Yeah,” I said, “how long have you been standing here?”

“Somewhere in the neighbourhood of, say, five seconds?”

“Hmm,” I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms, “What do you want?”

“He's being a terrible bore, he dozed off after drinking too much. I know he won’t wake until close to noon now. I wasn’t able to sleep.”

“Ah.”

“I was coming here to play, but now that I’m drenched, I feel a bit chilly. Maybe we can cuddle instead for a bit?”

“Hop in,” I said, raising the blanket.

I don’t know what she thought, perhaps she had expected a different reaction from me, but there was a moment of pause before she climbed into the bed.

“Here, let me,” I said, helping her roll to her side and spooning her. She was dressed in a white tee shirt and panties, and soon as I put my arm around her waist, I could see that the cloth was soaking wet.

“Hmm,” she hummed and sighed, gently pushing back into me.

“You’re getting the bed all wet,” I complained.

“What am I to do? You can get rid of my shirt if you want.”

“How did you get so wet just crossing over from your shack to mine? You must have been getting drenched deliberately.”

“I like getting wet in the rain.”

“Such a cliché,” I said softly, but clearly enough for her to be able to comprehend.

“Huh? Don’t be rude. Anyway, take off my shirt, maybe that’ll help.”

She sat up and faced me with her arms up, waiting expectantly. I did not particularly understand why I had to take it off for her, but I sat up as well.

The wet fabric of her shirt was clinging in places upon the curve of her waist, the soft swell of her bosom; her erect nipples stretching outward against it were apparent even in the dim light from my night bulb. When I peeled the shirt off her, my hand brushed against her skin. Underneath the drenched garment, her body was damp.

Fortunately, I had a spare towel close at hand on a hook on the wall. I gathered it and told her, “You’ll catch a fever if you’re not careful.”

She simply looked at me with doe eyes, waiting for what I might do. I spread the towel in my hands and rubbed somewhat ferociously over her shoulder length wet hair for a while, the same act I was often treated to as a kid. She sat through it uncomplaining. When I was done with her hair, I proceeded downward. She seemed to like it when I supported her back with one arm, and brushed her chest, her soft breasts, her tummy and her sides with the dry side of the towel; it made her smile.

“Better?”

“Better. Okay to cuddle?” she asked with a little movement of her head, gesturing towards her body now dried of the rain.

I said I needed to use the washroom and got up. I was back in a minute. She seemed to have managed her hair as best as possible by this time. Still slightly dishevelled, it fell gently down across the sides of her face.

“Your shirt is damp too,” she observed. And indeed it was, from the few seconds of spooning.

She proceeded to take it off, and then subsequently lay down on the bed pulling me close to her. She put her damp head on my chest and her arm across my body. We cuddled. She felt a little warmer now, somehow very delicate, lying with her breasts pressed against my body. I crossed my arm round her smooth back pulling her tighter against me, and when I gave her a few soft scratches slowly reaching closer to her waist, she seemed to smile to herself. It was really not so bad.

With the tip of her index finger she started brushing across my chest in repetitive motion, as though inspecting a piece of fabric, “You’re… you’re like this pale yellowish… no, light brown shade? Beige maybe. I don’t know, where are you from? Are you perhaps a banished Egyptian prince?”

“Actually, originally from the subcontinent.”

“I don’t think that exists.”

“It does.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s a group of countries in Southern Asia. Didn’t you use to study hard in school?”

“I did, but some of the stuff flew right over my head,” she said, her breath warm on my skin, “You can say I was hopeless in Geography if that satisfies you.”

I wondered lazily what it might take to satisfy her.

“Likewise,” I said, “I was a hopeless kid too.”

“And now you are a hopeful prince?”

“I hate to break it to you, but the monarchy is over. Not too many princes romping about, sweeping maidens off their feet.”

“Pity,” she said, and added after a pause, “Your accent is not what I’d have imagined then.”

It was abundantly clear to me by now that as smart and intelligent as she clearly was, she was not overtly in a mood to do justice to herself on those counts tonight.

“I remember now, it’s the age of capitalism, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Of post-capitalism. You really are an outdated character, aren’t you…?”

“August.”

“…August,” I finished, hoping not to have sounded very much like some snob professor.  

“You sound like some kind of snobbish professor type,” she said, “I like it. You are a character too.”

She did not seem to require my name, and it currently being the month of August, I wasn't certain that I had hers either.

We lay like that for a while, listening to the sound of the heavy rain outside. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but before long her ponderings led her to carelessly start twisting and playing with one of my nipples. When suddenly she pinched it hard, I gripped her tightly by instinct, surprised.

“Hey now!” I exclaimed, by way of reproach.

“I think you are a rather unusual person. In my experience, at any rate,” she stated, “Perhaps it is a pre-existing condition for humans of the sub-condiment.”

“I suppose we do use a lot of condiments in our food,” I sighed.

“I was going to tell you...”

“Go ahead,” I said.

“That I have a law which says I do not do cuddling unless it leads to sex.”

“It’s not a law if only you abide by it,” I remarked.

“Well, a rule then,” she said.

“You have a rule?”

“Yes.”

“That if you cuddle with…”

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted impatiently, caressing my sore nipple and declaring, “Look, this is hard and erect now. That means you’re aroused.”

“What would your… umm… guy think?”

“What will he think? He fucked me on the trekking path today, but he came way early. And then he didn’t fuck me at night. Besides, he doesn't care who else... nevermind. I am owed sex tonight. By someone.”

“I like that you are candid about your demands from the universe.”

“Maybe I’m spoilt, what do you think?”

I am not sure why I said what I did next, but it seemed to catch her off guard.

“Something tells me, that’s not quite true.”

A little flutter in the fabric of her persona which she had so effortlessly and naturally mastered, as she turned and looked up at me with a glimmer in her eyes. Only a moment. And then back to whatever campaign she had in mind.

“Why don’t you give me your cock?” she said planting a swift kiss on the sore nipple, “Don’t you want me to touch it? For me to rub it in my soft hand?”

I did not know what she meant by me giving her anything. It was where it was, and it had grown to attention.

“Here I thought we’d drift into blissful slumber, cuddling each other,” I said.

This made her giggle somehow.

“That’s very funny,” she said, and scraped her hand down across my chest and stomach, and in through my boxers, “I told you I came here to play.”

The succeeding events that happened were of a mysterious and somewhat confusingly pleasurable quality. They were mundane really, in their physical reality. Men and women in various combinations have done similar things with each other since time immemorial. But the way they registered to my senses because of the specificities of her being, was of a special kind that I had never experienced before.

“Do you like that?” she asked.

I did. The gentle movements she had adeptly been making with her hand inside my boxers had gotten my cock very hard and dripping of precum.

“How long have you been plotting this?” I asked by way of a reply.

“Why do you ask such silly questions? Look at me, you didn’t tell me if you liked my breasts.”

I had found her beauty uniquely seductive and playful from the very first time I had seen her. I think perhaps it had something to do with her eyes, her pretty lashes, the possibility of a smile lingering at the corner of her mouth. If I had not been productive sitting at my laptop on the porch the previous couple of days, it was because much of it had been spent admiring her beautiful figure, her sexy midriff, her splendidly playful movements around the beach.

By the time I had taken the wet tee shirt off her, my eyes had grown sufficiently used to the faint light such that I had been instantly enamoured by the sight of her beautiful breasts, of her erect pink nipples that looked tantalizingly pretty on her. So I gave her the honest answer, “Yes, they’re very nice. And you’re very beautiful, if you really have to know.”

She stopped stroking.

“You don’t have to be so patronizing; I’m not dying of a need for self-validation. I just wanted to know how you felt.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry.”

She thought for a moment, and then bent down and planted a kiss on my cheek, “It’s okay, why don’t you just show me how you like me, hmm?”

And I did. Or I tried anyway.

I did not know how she felt when we kissed – slowly, our moist lips brushing softly against each other, her hand holding and caressing the side of my neck – but I sensed an altogether foreign delight that instead of making a momentary visitation, lingered on for as long as the kiss might last.

I made her sit up, my lips kissing, brushing across the skin of her neck, just underneath her pretty collarbones, until I dared softly cup the underside of one of her breasts with the warm palm of my hand. I gave her nipple a couple of wet licks with my tongue.

She giggled.

“More, please,” came the request.

Putting my arms around her back, I sucked and licked greedily on her nipple. She hummed and let out a sigh. Her arms folded gently around my neck, resting on my shoulder. When I sucked at her other breast and nibbled at her nipple with my teeth, I felt her nails digging into and slowly scratching across my back.   

I made her lie back and pulled her panties off. I could feel their dampness as I held them in my hands. A generous amount of transparent fluid glistened across the pink fold of her pussy, its mild fragrance blending with the scent of the rain and the damp earth outside.

It felt like a natural, reflex action for me to find myself drawn in between her legs, pulling myself up closer to the scent of her sex. She briefly wriggled and hummed in satisfaction when I licked her the first time. I could feel myself growing increasingly aroused by her scent and her delicate movements, the gentle rise and fall of her stomach as she lay back relaxed.

I let my tongue scrape across her inner pussy lips, slowly, savouring each moment. And back again, pushing and poking a little firmer in between, relishing her taste. She started breathing heavily, her arms lying limp by her sides. To me it felt like satisfaction, to be leaning in so close to her nakedness, my hands holding her parted thighs. I lapped up her pussy juices, licking gratefully.  

When I poked inside of her with a finger, it slipped gently in through her slippery tightness. Having pushed it all the way in, I curled it upward and caressed, while licking in circles around and across her clitoris. I could feel her start to squirm immediately, her breathing intensifying.

“Perhaps you’re a good person after all,” she whispered through heavy breaths.

Pulling up her arms around either side of her head, eyes half closed, she twisted back and forth pleasurably on the bed. She seemed to like where I caressed her a great deal, and after some more of the licking and caressing her stomach curled inward, and she exhaled in a deep, low moan, her hand gripping mine and holding on as she rode the wave of pleasure.

She lay there in silence as though exhausted for a few seconds, before proceeding to get up.

“That all you needed then?” I asked, “Off to your sweetheart now?”

“What must you think of me!” she said, her flushed face breaking into a beautiful smile, “Here. Lie down here. Let’s take this off.”

I did as instructed. She removed my boxers in the spirit of one tossing aside a nuisance. If it was not clear before, it was now. I was going to have sex with this strange girl in my room. In the middle of an almighty downpour, sheltered within the humble structure of a cheap cottage at the beach side.

She walked slowly scraping her knees on the bed, one on each side of my joined legs, gliding closer to position. My cock jutted up uncontrollably at the sight of her inching nearer, rising above me, revealed in the half light of the night bulb and dim glow of approaching dawn through the window: a moonlike luminescence in her lovely bare shoulders, along the curve of her waist, her beautiful perky breasts, her curling heaving stomach. Pale lips breaking into  a teasing smile. A young woman rendered ethereal by circumstances, natural beauty and an unclassifiable personality.

A wind blew heavy outside, gushing in through the window by the bed and throwing the main door open. The roar of the sea came crashing in with the howl of the fresh wind.

Neither of us cared. There was hardly anyone around in the premises to begin with. Droplets of rainwater sprayed across our bodies with each gust of wind through the window. Bolstered by the roar of the waves at her back, she glided further up and sat gently on my thighs just below my balls. She gave me a friendly look. We stared into each other and she took my cock in both hands, twisting and stroking it to full erection, until she looked satisfied with what she saw.

I held her softly by her hip while she positioned herself just above my stiff member. She held the sensitive shaft of my cock and rubbed it tantalizingly against the opening of her dripping cunt, smearing it with her juices. I placed the palm of one hand behind her tight rounded ass with gentle pressure, in what I hoped would be an encouraging gesture for her to stop teasing and fuck me already.

She smiled and pressed herself down against the stiffness of my cock. It slipped in through the folds of her tight pussy as she continued to lower herself upon me, using the weight of her body to squeeze it in as deep as it would go.

It felt good to be inside her and I gave her a caress across her chest and belly as a gesture of appreciation.

“Hmm…” she said, and then took one of my hands and placed it on her waist, continuing to gently hold onto it. With the other she supported herself against my chest and started rising and sinking slowly around my cock. Her dark eyes smiling looking into mine, hair swept astray by the intermittent gusts of wet wind, breasts swaying deliciously over me with each of her riding movements – it was an intensely erotic sequence that unravelled in glorious rhythmic repetitions amid increasingly heavy breathing and soft moans.

I felt my hips begin to reach upwards and thrust in sync with her motion, reaching her halfway with a soft thump. My cock scraped the walls of her vagina each time, pushing up deep inside her. We saw it all in each other’s faces, hiding nothing of how we felt, me caressing her sides, her breasts.

“Here, let me,” I said quietly, taking her by her back and laying her down somewhat tired on the bed, “that was nice, now let me.”

I got on top of her and with my face inches from hers, I saw droplets of tears trickling down her eyes.

“What’s wrong? Are you unhappy?”

“You weren’t supposed to be like this,” she said softly.

I did not say anything for a while, and when I did, it felt like I did it without premeditation: “Why?”

“Because.” she said.

The rain had continued, but the sky must have gotten brighter with the rising sun, for I could see her face even better now. She wiped away her tears and looked across behind me towards the door.

Within a moment, her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Will you take me outside and fuck me something ungentleman-like?”

The beach was deserted when we came out to my porch, both stark naked. The sun was covered behind the blanket of clouds, but the pale glow of dawn had spread all around. The sea had reached close upon my shack in the throes of a high tide. I pushed her back against the wooden wall by the door and caressed her body with the rainwater generously sprayed across her. The mild chill of the morning air drew us closer, and I licked and kissed over her breasts, her chest, her navel, down to her cunt.

Seeing that she was suitably aroused, I guided her to the porch railing and pushed her against it, her stomach pressing into the wooden bar. She leaned in further, bent over the railing, pushing her ass towards me. The rain fell at an angle pattering against her face, and her naked torso and neck. Holding her firmly by the waist I pushed in hard with my cock, until I was balls deep inside her.

“Mhmm… see you remembered I like the rain,” she said looking back at me.

I took her arms and crossed them behind her back, holding them tight in place with one hand. With the other I held her waist against the railing and started fucking her in deep, hard thrusts, my groin thumping against her ass cheeks.

To my ears, the sound of her moans was enchanting in the morning rain. I drove in harder and heard her speak breathlessly to me, “So you really can be a brute, if only you tried!”

Having her thrust naked upon the railing ahead of me, against the backdrop of the waves, I felt myself inching closer to orgasm with each motion. The wind had suddenly subsided along with the rain which settled into a gentle drizzle. The atmosphere grew humid and warm, leading to the beginnings of sweat on our thrusting, heaving bodies. Whereas the mere touch of her skin had been a deeply erotic sensation at the outset upon her arrival, the way we fucked out on the porch now was exciting in a whole new way.

Before long August started squirming, edging close to the throes of climax and then moaned deep and long out into the rain, whimpering in my arms as I crossed them tightly around her. I hugged her from behind and fucked her harder, drawing out her orgasm, ravaging her across her renewed moans of pleasure. It could only go on for so long. A feeling of an intense rupture somewhere deep inside me and my cock burst inside her pussy in repeated spasms, me continuing to thrust through the slippery mass of my own cum inside her, until we both withdrew and fell limp on the wooden deck, backs leaning against the railing.

“You know I’ve seen you right here the past two days,” she said to me, panting, “with a laptop, as though you were writing.”

“Yes.”

“Do you write then?”

“I suppose.”

“Are you a good writer, do you think?”

“Not really, why do you ask?”

“Pity… I wanted to ask you if you’d write me. You know, like you paint someone. Hmph! Maybe you were writing me all along, sitting at your desk here looking over at me on the beach.”

I laughed, “I tried, but I don’t think I could quite capture you. After all, I knew nothing but your movements.”

“What else was there to know?”

“The way you look at me, for starters.”

The drizzle continued, but a patch of the clouds parted to let out a sharp streak of sunlight upon the beach. She got up, strolled naked into her own shack and brought back a couple of cans of beer. We walked into the rain, letting it wash our naked bodies over our relaxed muscles. The beer tasted delicious. The moment was as satisfactory as the following hours seemed uncertain.

With the beautiful stranger by my side, I walked into the sea.