There’s just something about lying on the beach that makes me contemplative and philosophical. Today, I lounge on a blanket in the sand and wonder: can you look back at your life and pinpoint one decision that affected everything that came after? One intersection where you chose a route that led to your ultimate destination?
What if you had turned left instead of right?
The decision that set my life’s path was actually not even mine to make…it was my parents’. My senior year in high school my dad was offered a job up north, where our entire extended family still lived. He considered, but we (the kids) cried and begged. I was starting college and couldn’t stand the thought of my family moving away and leaving me here, and my siblings were still in high school and couldn’t stand the thought of leaving their friends.
So my father passed on a promotion and the chance to move closer to what he still considered home, turning down the job in New Jersey in order to stay in the Deep South.
But what if he hadn’t listened to us? How would my life be different? I look at my husband and children, and I’m so thankful for what I have. But closing my eyes, I can almost see an alternate existence, and I wonder why life takes the turns that it does.
I watch in silent misery as the moving truck pulls away from the house I’ve called home for the last eight years…a crucial eight years in anyone’s life, encompassing all my adolescent and teenage experiences. I can’t believe they’re moving, leaving me to go to college in this town alone while they cart the trappings of my childhood 1000 miles north to New Jersey.
Over the next couple of months, I struggle. I’m used to sharing family dinners topped with my mom’s pineapple pie, lingering over Sunday breakfasts of chocolate chip pancakes, watching my brother’s baseball games, braiding my sister’s hair before we go for a run together. I know I’m supposed to enjoy my freshman year in college, but the truth is I’m lonely. I miss my family. I miss my dog. I finally finish the school year, clean out my dorm room, and move up north for good, making a clean break from my longtime boyfriend, enrolling in a new school, and rejoining my family.
Fast forward a few months, and my left fork veers even farther out. I wake up on a beautiful early summer morning and decide to go running on the beach. I hop in my Jeep, turn up the radio, and drive until I get to the shore. Wearing a black tank top and running shorts, I quickly fasten my long hair into a ponytail, then hop out to stretch my calves and warm up my shins before taking off down the beach.
It’s still so early that the shore is pretty deserted, punctuated by an occasional fisherman and a few walkers or joggers. The miles pile up behind me and I’m in my own little world, enjoying the ocean breeze and the glow of the just-risen sun, so much that I run right past him. He’s on his hands and knees in the surf, the early morning sun glistening off his back, the waistband of his cutoff denim shorts riding low on his hips. I spare him a passing glance as I fly past, but then he calls out to me to stop.
Normally I would ignore such a request from a guy I don’t know, but something in his voice compels me to listen. I turn, questioning.
“Were you talking to me?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, sitting up on his knees and brushing sand out of his face with his upper arm as he looks up at me. “You don’t want to run down there.” He gestures vaguely down the beach in the direction I was headed.
“Oh? Why’s that?” I ask, sensing that he’s coming on to me, and feeling slightly irritated that my pace was interrupted, even though this guy is cute.
“There’s a bar right up the road, and a bunch of guys just came out of there, staggering drunk. Most of them are in the water right now, but they’re all real rowdy. Probably not the best crowd to go running into looking the way you do.” I squint down the beach and spot a small group swarming on the sand, with a larger bunch of splashing figures in the water.
“Do they know it’s only 6 a.m? Kind of early for drinking.”
“I think their condition is left over from last night. I work at the bar and know some of those guys…they generally shut it down. And when they’re drunk, they don’t seem to understand the word ‘no’.”
“Ahh…got it.” I grin at him. “I guess you’re my guardian angel, huh?”
“Nope. Just a guy,” he shrugs and returns to his muddy task in the water. I turn to run back the way I came, but stop. Curiosity gets the best of me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, taking a step closer to him.
“Clamming,” he says, and I notice the belt on his hip, the thick gloves on his hands.
“I’ve never seen anybody do that before,” I say, crouching down beside him. He looks sideways at me and smiles. He has a nice smile, with a cute dimple in his chin, and smoldering eyes, dark like mine. I decide this guy might be worth getting to know, and proceed to ask more questions about clamming, of which I genuinely have no knowledge. He explains what type of clams he is digging for, demonstrates how to find them, and describes how to eat them. I get down on my hands and knees in the surf beside him, learning how to dig for clams, enjoying the sun on my back, the salt spray on my face, and the company of this guy who is becoming more intriguing with every passing moment.
“Want to try one?” he asks, eyes sparkling, holding a clam out to me.
“Raw?” I’m not even bothering to hide how much that grosses me out. He laughs.
“It’s a rite of passage in my family. You have to eat them raw or you’re disowned.”
“Well, in my family we tend to broil our shellfish, but thanks for the offer,” I say.
He sets his clam gear high on the sand, out of the surf, then sits back on his heels and looks at me appraisingly.
“What?” I ask, suspiciously.
“Nothing,” he says, but his brown eyes maintain contact with mine, teasing, or maybe daring me, I’m not quite sure.
“What?” I ask again, hands on my hips, my eyes daring him right back.
He shakes his head and slowly breaks into a wide grin. “I have to rinse off. How would you feel about a swim?”
“I’m not dressed for a swim,” I say.
“Neither am I,” he says, standing up. Then, right on the spot, he tugs off his shorts and tosses them on the sand. Gasping, I put my hands over my eyes and turn away, but not before I catch a glimpse of his large, semi-hard cock, and an unexpected rush of desire makes me blush. I can hear him laughing.
“Come on, rinse off with me.”
“I don’t even know your name, and you expect me to just strip my clothes off?”
“I’m not asking you to marry me, just join me for a quick swim.”
My embarrassment fades quickly at his smart reply, so I turn and face him. “The problem is, once you see me naked, you’ll want to marry me.”
His grin gets even bigger at that. “I’m Wes,” he says.
“Sloane,” I reply, as I pull my sports bra over my head and shimmy out of my shorts, enjoying the sight of his jaw dropping along with my clothes. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Very nice,” he agrees, pushing his feet off the ocean floor and gliding backward through the surf into deeper water, never taking his eyes off me. I pull the elastic out of my hair, releasing my ponytail and spilling my hair over my shoulders, then I dive right in, a shallow dive through the gently breaking waves towards Wes, who is now standing in waist-deep water, watching me intently. I swim until I’m right in front of him, then stand up, giving him a close-up view of my perfect size 36C breasts.
He leans in closer and says in a low voice, “Your body is not enough to make me propose to you.”
“Oh no? And why is that? Don’t you like it?” I take a step even closer. Something about this guy is almost intoxicating, and I’m responding to him in a way that is very unlike me.
His eyes spark as he says, “Of course I like it, but I need to see what you can do with it. That’s what will bring me to my knees.” His words send a shiver straight through me.
I look into his eyes, and he looks right back. I want to kiss him, but I don’t want to make the first move. A wave knocks me slightly off balance and I stumble towards him…any closer and we’d be touching. I hold that position, my face just inches from his. His eyes are so intense, and his lips are close enough that they slightly brush mine as he whispers, “Kiss me, Sloane.”
I don’t even hesitate, pressing my lips against his, slightly parted, and an electric current courses right through my body. Hungrily, almost greedily, Wes pulls me towards him. My breasts flatten against him, my nipples hardening and tingling from the moist warmth of his body. I can feel his erection against my leg, his hands on my back, palms flat, running upward from the small of my back towards my shoulders. Then one hand wraps in my hair, cradling the back of my head, holding me firmly as his lips explore mine.
Still kissing me, Wes pulls me lower into the water with him, then reaches one arm behind my knees and scoops me up, cradling me in his arms. Reluctantly, our lips separate, but he continues to look into my eyes, watching my reactions, ensuring that I am enjoying this and agreeing to whatever he wants to try. He crouches down in the waist-deep ocean and places both hands under my back, so that I’m floating on top of the water. I tilt my head slightly back, stretch my arms out, and close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of floating with just the slight touch and support of his fingertips. I am aware that I’m completely naked, and that Wes is taking in the sight of my body, floating in front of him, but I’m not at all self-conscious. I want him to admire me, to want me. Suddenly I feel his tongue, circling my nipple, and that electric current seizes me again, sending tingling sensations all through my body, particularly between my legs, where I am getting as wet on the inside as I already am on the outside. His lips close over my nipple and he sucks it into his mouth. I moan softly, and the sound seems to encourage him. Keeping one hand under my back, he reaches his other hand across my body and gently pinches and twists my other nipple. I gasp with the slight pain that also feels so good, and he sucks harder in response. Feelings are stirring within me, and I squirm a bit in the water, but Wes’s arm is strong, supporting my back, and his mouth remains insistently on my breast, sucking, licking, teasing.
Suddenly, Wes reaches both arms around me and pulls me against him, down into the water where he once again crushes my lips with his. His hands reach down and cup my butt cheeks, pulling me close so I can feel his erection pressed against me. I’m not the type for a one-night stand, but I can already sense that’s not what this is. I think he’s a lot like me: sexually charged, and I think we’re off to a hot start, but I definitely believe this is not just a one-time thing.
I wrap my legs around him, reaching my hands behind his head and running my fingers through his wet hair as my tongue wrestles with his. Wes takes several staggering steps backward, into chest-deep water. I’m really heating up now, desire flooding through me for this stranger who seems to know exactly how my body will respond to his touch. Raising my hips up, I press into him so his cock is positioned right at my opening, teasing each other with the promise, throbbing with anticipation. Wes slides his hands off my ass and up my back, placing his hands on my shoulders. Looking into my eyes, he firmly pushes down and I slide onto his hard cock. It’s big, and even though I’m very wet, I cry out when I feel all of him thrust into me so quickly. I don’t move for a minute, letting my body adjust to feeling him inside me, and I can tell by his face that he’s enjoying it too. Then, using my legs as leverage, I begin to slide myself up and down his shaft, and his hands on my shoulders assist.
“God, you feel incredible,” he says, eyes still locked on mine.
“So do you,” I tell him. Our bodies are being pulled and pushed by the undertow and the waves, adding to the other sensations that are rocking us. The intensity increases and I work his cock harder and faster, kissing frantically and fucking furiously until I can feel myself on the edge.
“Wes, I’m cumming…” I gasp in between kisses.
“Good…cum for me, now,” he says, leaning back to watch my face. I close my eyes and let the feeling take over, moaning with the intensity of the orgasm that causes my muscles to contract, gripping his cock. He likes that, and his climax follows just after mine. He clutches my back, presses his face into my neck and pulls down on my shoulders, pressing his dick even farther into me as he shoots inside me.
We hold each other in the water, unwilling to separate, unsure of what will happen next. Finally, I unhook my legs and Wes sets me down in the water, but keeps his arms around me and kisses me again.
“So…now what?” I ask, my heart heavy with uncertainty. No promises had been exchanged; what if my gut was wrong and this was it for him, all he wanted?
“Now I take you to breakfast,” he says with a grin. “Unless you have other plans?”
“I have no plans all day. I’ll go to breakfast with you if we can do this again after we eat.”
“You are my kind of girl,” he laughs. “Let’s go.” We trudge out of the water, holding hands, and snatch up our clothes. I am pleasantly surprised to find that Wes has a bag with several towels in it, and he hands me one so I can dry off before putting my running clothes back on. My vehicle is parked several miles down the beach, but Wes is parked close by, so he packs up his clamming gear and we head for his truck. As we’re walking, the rain starts…light at first, then harder. Wes grabs my hand and we run, the cool rain soaking into our skin.
By the time we get to the truck, we’re gasping and laughing and drenched. Wes sets his gear in the bed of his truck, then turns to me. Grabbing me suddenly, he pins me against the side of the truck and kisses me fiercely as the rain continues to pelt down on us. The sky is darkening and the wind is picking up. I suddenly realize we are the only people in sight, the only car in the secluded parking lot, and I become even more interested in these kisses, thinking about what might come next. Wes grinds his body against me, and I can feel through his jeans that he is already up for Round Two.
He opens the truck door and lifts me onto the seat, with my feet still hanging out the door, then he tugs off my shorts and tosses them over my shoulder. He drops to his knees and pulls me to the edge of the seat, propping my legs on his shoulders. “What are you doing?” I ask him, even though I have a very good idea what he’s doing.
“Breakfast,” he laughs. He opens me with his fingers and teases me with the tip of his tongue, flicking it against my clit, then plunging it inside me. I moan softly because it feels so good, writhing on the seat, shifting my hips to help him find the right angle, reaching my hands into his hair and holding him to me.
“That feels so amazing,” I whisper. He responds by thrusting two fingers into me, and I cum almost immediately, my leg muscles twitching, vaginal muscles contracting on his fingers. The rain is coming down in sheets now, almost sideways, drenching me even inside the truck.
“Come up here,” I tell Wes. He steps up on the running board, and I reach out, grabbing the waistband of his shorts, unzipping them, and freeing his cock. It’s hard as a rock, but as I stroke it I can feel it getting even harder. I want it in my mouth. I want to hear him moan and feel him twitch with pleasure as I suck his cock. I lean forward and teasingly run my tongue around the head, then lick down his shaft, getting him wet before placing my fist at the base and stroking him with my hand. I place my lips at the tip, then slide him into my mouth as far as I can take him before sucking in as I pull him back out. He moans quietly and pushes his hips forward, trying to push his cock back into my mouth. I comply, taking him in again, using my tongue to lick him as he begins to fuck my mouth. The rain is pouring down on Wes as he grips the roof of the truck, feet on the running board, hips thrusting faster. I reach down to his balls with my other hand, raking my fingernails gently across them and cupping them, gently squeezing. Wes cries out that he’s cumming. I tell him to watch me and he leans down so he can see as I sit up on my knees, position his cock right into my cleavage, and stroke him until he shoots on me.
Wes’s eyes light up and he shakes his head, looking at me. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you…I swear you’re my fantasy girl.”
“We just moved here. Isn’t it funny how a decision that you think is terrible can lead you to something good?” I ask, thinking about my dad and how angry I had been about this move. Suddenly it didn’t seem so bad.
Wes helps me out of the truck and into the deluge. I strip off my tank top, leaning my head back and letting the rain wash over me. I am completely naked in the downpour; almost as good as a shower. I turn around to toss my tank top onto the seat of the truck, and I feel Wes’s arms reaching around from behind me as his hands fondle my tits. He steps closer, pressing his body into my back, bending to kiss my shoulder and neck as his hands knead my breasts. He nuzzles into my hair until his mouth is next to my ear, then whispers, “I have a fantasy…to fuck a hot girl in the middle of a rainstorm.”
“You think I’m hot?” I ask, smiling to myself.
“You’re extremely hot. Will you make another fantasy come true for me?”
I turn my head to press my lips against his, and he spins me around, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me hard. He doesn’t even need an answer from me as the cool rain sends shivers through our bodies; he knows I run as hot as he does. Wes steps away from me briefly to grab a towel out of his bag, then grabs my hand and leads me to a picnic area in a grove of pine trees next to the parking area. He spreads the towel on a table, steps out of his shorts, and sits down, pulling me between his legs. I press my body into his, reaching my arms behind him and running my fingernails lightly up and down his back. He shows me the chill bumps on his arms, making me smile. I kiss him lightly on the lips and lean forward, pushing him onto his back, then I climb up and straddle him. He scoots backward a little, and I’m poised, ready, above his cock. I lean my head back, feeling the cool rain on my face as I begin with a tease for both of us…touching the tip of his dick to my clitoris, moving my hips forward and back slightly. I’m masturbating on his cock; I could bring myself to an orgasm just like this, without penetration, and I kind of like that idea because I know the anticipation is driving him crazy; I can see it in his eyes as he watches me riding him. I decide to tease a little more, and slip just an inch inside me, moving up and down on him, not taking more than an inch. He reaches for my shoulders, probably to push me down on his cock, but I grab his hands and press them down to the table, beside his head, and I continue to have my way with him, sliding an inch of him in and out of me, over and over again. He closes his eyes and begins breathing heavier, as we’re both getting drenched from the pelting rain and blowing wind. Finally the friction and heat between us reaches fever pitch and I can’t take it anymore; I thrust my hips down, all the way, taking the full length of Wes’s cock inside me, gasping out loud at the feeling of him filling me. I continue to work his shaft until I feel myself on the edge of another orgasm.
“I’m cumming…” I moan, and lean forward onto him as my whole body shudders with the intensity of it. The waves of my orgasm keep coming, and I sigh and gasp with pleasure until Wes flips me over without missing a beat, without withdrawing, and spreads my legs wide as he begins to pound me hard. That change in position causes my orgasm to continue, and I cry out at the almost unbearable feeling of ecstasy. My sounds excite Wes even more, and he begins to piston into me, faster and harder as he nears his own climax until finally he empties himself into me with a groan and collapses on me. Distant thunder sounds, providing an exclamation point to the end of a perfect sexual encounter.
“Do you realize how many of my fantasies you’ve fulfilled today, without even trying? Now I’m ready to propose,” Wes pulls me close to him and kisses the top of my head.
“Put the proposal in your back pocket, and let’s start with that breakfast you promised me,” I laugh, reaching up and kissing his cheek.
“Sloane!” I hear a voice calling me as if from a great distance. The voice is vaguely familiar, and then I remember…
I open my eyes to an ocean breeze and a setting sun. I’m in Gulf Shores, not Jersey Shores. The sight of my children playing at the water’s edge makes me smile. I think back over my dream, and wonder briefly if the man in my fantasy exists out there somewhere. Where did his life take him? Would a different route at a critical intersection have led him to me as well?
Next time your life is at a crossroad and you’re ready to turn right, why not take a chance and go left? You never know what, or who, you might find.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/the-left-turn.aspx">The Left Turn</a>