I was 24, working at a tanning salon in a beach town. It wasn’t a great job, but it paid the bills and gave me plenty of time to mud and crawl in my Jeep. Mostly women came in, so the owners liked having a woman behind the counter. The few men who did come in were always hitting on me. Ugh. But I get it; I was petite, with dark hair, B-cup breasts, and very outgoing. But I had no interest in the male clientele. Not because I was into women, just because they didn’t interest me.
That all changed on a slow Monday afternoon. I watched a Jeep pull into the lot—a black Wrangler, almost identical to mine. The man who stepped out was tall, fit, ruggedly handsome, and walked tall; not a strut, not a march, but somewhere in between. I watched him approach, enter the lobby, and step up to the counter.
“How can I assist you today?” came my standard greeting.
“I’d like to purchase a tanning package.” His voice was deep, smooth, and commanding. Oh, the things I’d like to hear that voice say. He could narrate my spicy novels; that’d be great.
“Sure, what were you thinking?” I asked, wondering how long before he began flirting.
“The thirty-day unlimited should do it,” he responded, keeping eye contact.
“Sure, and when do you want to start?”
“Today.”
“Awesome,” I said as I rang up his membership. Still waiting for the come-on. But he didn’t. He was polite and proper. He paid his bill, and I showed him to an empty room. After his time was up, he thanked me and left.
Two days later, he returned. Just like the last time, he came in, was very courteous, did his session, and left with a thanks. I thought of his voice, but now I thought of his body too. I yearned to see more. He always arrived the same way: clean jeans, a nice polo; no shorts, no sandals, no tank tops. Was it his voice? His clean-cut appearance? His manners? Him not trying to pick me up? I think it was all the above. He always came in at the same time, like clockwork. I could set my watch by it.
Once again, he returned two days later for another session. I put him in booth 3; it was bad of me, I know. The louvers in the door of booth 3 were just a little bent, and one could see in a little if standing in the right position. I waited for the tanning bed to turn on, then casually walked up to booth 3. Peeking in, I could see him lying on the bed, completely naked save for a small washcloth covering his manhood. His body was every bit as fit and strong as I had imagined it. I wanted to touch him. Wanted to touch myself. But could do neither. I watched a bit longer, until I heard the bed in the next booth turn off. I returned to my desk and waited.
“How was the session, Sam?” I asked as he emerged from booth 3 and entered the lobby.
“It was good, thank you.” He smiled and paused in front of me.
“How do you like your Jeep?”
“I love it. It’s very…me,” he responded.
“Mine’s the black one out there, like yours. I love it, and I do all my own work. If you ever want to get together and ride, just let me know. You know where to find me. I’m very outgoing.” Did I just do that? Did I just invite a client out?
“That could be fun; I’ll let you know.” he smiled, thanked me, and was gone. Man, this guy was playing hard to get.
Monday morning rolled around again; I sat at my desk watching the clock in anticipation. His Jeep pulled in, right on time.
“Good morning, Sam. How was your weekend?” I asked with honest curiosity.
“Pretty hectic. But overall, not bad. Yours?”
“Boring, too much rain.”
“Yeah, what room do you want me in?” Mmm, that velvet voice.
“Three is open,” I responded, then added, “If you need any help, just let me know.”
“Will do, Thanks.” And off he went. A few moments later, he returned. “Hey, could I get a washcloth?”
“Sure thing.” Dammit! That plan failed. I purposely forgot to put one in there. I retrieved the washcloth and brought it to him. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“Thank you,” he answered as he closed the door.
I stood outside the door, watching through the small gap in the louver as he undressed, his body moving fluidly. His muscles were like ropes on his arms and legs. The broad shoulders and the cutest ass I’d ever seen on a man. Turn around! Almost as if he were listening to my thoughts, he turned. His flaccid member was in full view as he sat on the bed, positioned himself, covered up, and closed the lid.
I turned and walked to the supply room. Flaccid or not, the image of Sam’s manhood was burned into my mind. It wasn’t weird or funny-looking. It was… beautiful. Like a sculpture. Neat, proportionate, well-maintained. The grass was groomed, and the sack was… lovely. Usually, the sack is a saggy, ugly eyesore of a thing hanging in the background. This was not. Sam was truly blessed with a beautiful package, and now I wanted to see him hard.
Twenty minutes later, Sam re-emerged from booth 3. I couldn’t help but watch him as he approached, my mind imagining him naked and retracing every line of every muscle.
“Do you work weekends?” His voice startled me out of my thoughts.
“No!” I cleared my throat. “Sorry, no. I do not.”
“Well, I have the weekend off. If your offer stands, on going for a ride.”
“What were you thinking?” I tried not to look anxious.
“Nags Head, riding the beach,” the words flowed like caramel.
“I haven’t done that yet. I’m in,” I responded, hiding my excitement.
He placed a card on the desk. “Call me; we’ll work out the details. Have a nice day.” With that, he left. I picked up the card. Security Supervisor. Well, that explained the walk, the demeanor, the punctuality.
I waited until the following day to call him, not wanting to seem anxious or desperate. I wasn’t. Excited? Definitely. Desperate? Never. The conversation was straightforward; we decided to meet at the salon and drive our own vehicles to the Carolina Coast. Nothing else was discussed. Our Wednesday and Friday interactions went much like any other: minimal small talk, polite and courteous as always.
On Saturday morning, we met, drove to Corolla Beach, and made our way to Nags Head. We chased each other across the beach, driving in wet and dry sand, communicating via CB radio. In Nags Head, we stopped for lunch. I finally got to have a quiet conversation with him. He was nice. Quiet, reserved, smart. I finally met the softer side of him, dressed in swim trunks and a tank top. Very different from the straight-laced and rigid person I was used to. He dedicated his full attention to me, despite the array of scantily clad women moving about.
We sat on the beach enjoying an ice cream cone until he purposely bumped my hand, making me smear it on my face. He began to laugh as I glared at him playfully. He jumped up as he ran away, and I chased him down the beach. He let me catch up- big mistake. I tackled him to the sand, and we rolled around until I was on top of him, looking into his gold-flecked green eyes. I leaned toward him. Wanting to feel his lips on mine, longing to taste his kiss. The moment was abruptly ended when he, in what seemed to me to be one motion, rolled me off him and scooped me into his arms, trotting towards the water. He ran into the water, head-on into a wave that crashed into us, soaking us both. Yet, he stood there, holding me in his arms, looking into me.
“You had sand and ice cream on your face,” he said, wiping the water from my face.
Then he kissed me. It was delicious—strong, tender. Me in his arms, the ocean all around us. Just then, another wave hit us. This time, he was preoccupied, and the wave knocked us into the water. We rose, laughing, as he helped me to my feet. Our first kiss was one I’ll never forget. The rest of the day was spent riding the beach, playing in the water, and stealing little kisses; I may have stolen more than he did.
“What time do you want to head back?” he asked, as evening turned the sky to beautiful shades of pink.
“I don’t. I mean, do we have to? Couldn’t this day go on forever?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“I don’t have anything needing my attention tomorrow,” he offered with a warm smile.
“I’m free,” I returned, my excitement building again.
“Should we get a cabin?” he asked, cautiously.
“We could do that,” I replied with a level of calm that did not show how fast my heart was bounding in my chest.
We went back to our Jeeps and drove to the nearest campground. The cabin was cute, with a living room, kitchen, bathroom, and one bedroom. My heart raced at the prospect.
“I’ll sleep on the couch; you can have the bed,” he announced. My heart sank. Chivalrous, even now. I commended him. But I wanted… more. I don’t consider myself a slut. I’m not promiscuous. I don’t sleep around. But I know what I want. And right now, that was Sam. “Well, I need a shower; there is sand everywhere.”
“O.K., I can go run for food if you’re hungry,” he announced. How sweet.
“Or you could come help me,” was all I said. I’ve never seen a more beautiful smile as he sauntered over and took my hand.
“Well then, I guess we should get you cleaned up,” his gentle eyes beamed, his smile unwavering.
I smiled back triumphantly as I played out different scenarios in my mind. So many options, so little time. We went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. We stepped in together, still in our bathing suits. Sam untied my bikini top and slipped it off me, thoughtfully rinsing it before hanging it on the curtain rod. He then removed my shorts and bikini bottoms and did the same. I stood in front of him, naked, watching his gaze scan every inch of my body.
I put my arms around his neck. “Like what you see?”
“Very much.”
I moved my hands to his waist, untied his shorts, and attempted to push them down. The tent that had risen made this task impossible. I slowly worked the shorts down, around his supple ass and over his engorged cock. It bounced playfully at eye level as I pushed the shorts to the floor and he stepped out of them. It was all I could do not to take it into my mouth at that moment. As if he understood my struggle, he slid the shorts to the corner and guided me to my feet.
He removed the shower wand and set it to high pressure, rinsing my hair and washing away every trace of sand from our earlier roll on the beach. After washing my hair, he rinsed the rest of my body, paying particular attention to the sensitive, sensual areas. Then he began massaging my body, starting at the shoulders, kissing, nibbling. Licking. Sucking. He was going to drive me insane.
I could feel the warmth of his body beyond the heat of the water. He pulled me close to him and turned me around, so my back was to him. He did nothing more than hold me there, his hands in mine, his arms hugging me. His body was perfectly molded to mine, the hot water running between us. His engorged manhood rested at the cleft of my ass like the most natural thing in the world. He slowly began kissing and sucking the skin at the nape of my neck. One hand released mine and slid to the front of my neck, just under my chin; gently, he turned my head so our lips were perfectly aligned. Excruciatingly slowly, he crushed his lips to mine; the hot water seemed too cool, the heat from within exceeding anything externally. Forever later, he released me, with my knees weak and my hands aching for him.
He proceeded to wash me, soaping every inch of my body. His hands slid effortlessly, sensually, over my body, along my breasts, between my thighs. His hands felt amazing, even when he moved down my leg and took each foot in his strong hands, not just washing, but massaging each in turn. Typically, this would have tickled, but his expert touch only deepened the relaxation, turning me to putty in his hands.
He stood and rinsed me thoroughly, the soap and sand washing away as my anticipation grew. Finally, it was my turn to touch him. To run my hands all over him, allowing me the pleasure of memorizing the planes of his body. But I didn't rinse his body right away; instead, I pushed him to the wall of the shower, leaned my body into his, and kissed him. I was trying to match his passion, but ultimately, I only succeeded in displaying my hunger.
I washed his entire body, my fingertips tracing every muscle, trying to learn every line as if it were braille, there to reveal his every secret desire. I turned him and washed his back, my hands caressing every ripple of muscle. Then I grabbed his firm butt with one cheek in each hand. What a fine ass it was. I turned him back to face me, took his cock in my hands, stroked with both hands, played with his balls, wanting to tease his body, teasing myself in the process. I finished and rinsed him off, not wanting to stop my exploration.
He took my hands, turned me around again, lifted my arms with one hand, and pushed me gently to the wall with the other.
"Don't move," he breathed into my ear.
I shivered at the sound of his voice, for this was the first time he had spoken since we entered the shower. I nodded in agreement to his command. What he did next made my knees weak and my self-control shatter. I wanted so badly to beg him to take me then. He slid his hands between my legs and ran his fingers over my most sensitive parts, parts already on fire and screaming for his touch. The heat of the shower and the burn of his hands on me—it was all I could do not to beg, beg him to make it stop or give me more. I was not sure. I was being tortured by now, and I just WANTED... but I forced myself to stay as he had placed me, leaning against the shower wall, him behind me. He knelt down, holding my ass in his hands and slowly, methodically drew his tongue from my clit to the top of my ass.
Now, in this moment, I plead with him, "Make love to me." Lay me on the floor and take me right where we are, no drying, shower still on, steam still filling the bathroom, abandon every thought, save one, US.
He turned off the shower, patted me dry with a towel, dried himself, and led me to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed and began to tantalize my body with the softest of touches. Slowly, he ran his fingers along my body. I wanted him intensely. I could tell he felt the same, but he waited. Kissing me. Hard and deep. Like our souls were melting together in that kiss. He gently pulled away and began kissing my earlobes, then moved to my neck. Nibbling ever so lightly. I held his shoulders. I want him to enter me, but I enjoy the anticipation. He moved along my breasts. Kissing and sucking. I may have been pushing him further south, my body craving release.
His fingers lightly raked my sides. He continued further, along my belly to my sweet, wet, waiting pussy. I gasped as his lips brushed by, whispering against my skin. But he didn't stop there. He continued to my legs, stroking them with his fingertips as he kissed along their length to my feet.
He nibbled on my arches. It was ticklish, torturous, yet sensual at the same time; he moved back up the other leg, kissing my calf, nibbling behind my knee as his fingers continued to brush along ever so lightly, sending little electrical waves through my whole body. Up my thigh, back to my pussy. He settled in between my legs. I was so wet with anticipation I could barely stand it. My breath caught in my throat, coming in short gasps as I felt his hot breath against my skin as he took his first taste of my desire for him, licking at first with the faintest touch. I whimpered a gasp as he did. I raked my fingers up his back, grabbing his hair, entwining my fingers. I wanted more.
I pulled him against me, grinding into his face. But his will was strong. And he was controlled. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, driving me to a sexual frenzy. Softly, sensually, he licked. My arousal couldn't take the stimulation. I climaxed, gushing the flood of my passion. He didn't move. He continued to lick as I writhed and squirmed, moaning loudly. Even as I squirted enough that I thought he might drown down there, his tongue continued to caress my clit. The orgasm started to subside. He held my hips tight and began sucking my clit without restraint. The sensations coursed through my body as I was immediately sent plunging into another orgasm. This time, I exploded another wave of my juice across him. I could hear him swallowing my essence. Still sucking. I didn't know how much more I could take. I wanted to feel him, my body against his, his throb inside of me. He came up to gaze into my eyes as he slowly entered me. The smile on my face, as at last, we were joined. We made slow, passionate love, a beautiful dance as the fire blazed within.
I clung to his shoulders as he thrust into me harder each time. My cries for more were stifled as I moaned in pleasure. I could feel my climax coming, as could he, as I arched my back to push him deeper inside me. He suddenly stopped and pulled away as I bucked against the air, my orgasm still in control of my body. He rolled me onto my stomach, lifted my hips, and slid his magnificent cock back inside me. He slid slowly inside me at first, as I took all of his length.
My body increased its demands as I screamed in ecstasy. Harder and faster, I pushed against him. The tender love between us melted into a fierce lustful desire that needed to be extinguished. The need to possess and be possessed brought us both to the brink of release. I could take no more holding back and begged him for permission to cum again.
"You needn't ask permission," he tells me as he maintains the furious pace I have set.
My guttural groans of pure primal passion rang out through the cabin as I came. My fingers digging into his thighs, I felt him tense. I thought he was about to release, but he wasn’t finished with me yet. He held my head up and turned my chin to kiss him, then he bit my neck as he thrust in and out. I moaned at the painful pleasure of it. I came again on the tails of the last one. He turned me over again, kissing me with utmost desire. Looking deeply, lovingly into my eyes, he entered me again. The brief intermission was just enough for me to get primed, and my climax was almost instantaneous.
He kept moving as I orgasmed, not letting it stop. I moved hard and fast against him. My orgasm was still rippling through my body like the waves on the shore. He stopped. Before I could protest, he moved to my dripping pussy and sucked on my clit. I squirted—hard. He moved back up, my juices dripping from his face. He re-entered me as my body still trembled from the intense orgasm, pounding hard now. I raked my fingers on his back, holding him tightly against me so he could not withdraw. My desire was rewarded as he arched his back, thrusting further into me than I thought possible. His head throbbed inside me, bathing my pussy with that which had been waiting for release. My pussy responded, tightening against him, not wanting to let him go.
We collapsed onto the bed, the smell of sweat and sex thick in the air. I lay my head on his chest. His musk was intoxicating. I watched in awe as his throbbing hard-on did not subside.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, like it was the most natural question for the moment. “I could get you something.”
“I have all I need right here,” I answered, climbing on top of him. He smiled as his still-rigid cock found its place in my warm, wet depths. How many fantasies can I play out tonight?
That is how I met my husband.
