The sand shifted under Carrie's bare feet, warm and fine as powdered sugar. She adjusted the wide-brimmed straw hat shading her face, squinting against the glare. Her skin already tingled from hours under the open sky, smelling faintly of sunscreen and salt.

Steve stretched beside her, muscles taut as he arched his back. He didn't speak, just traced idle patterns on her thigh with a fingertip. His touch lingered, deliberate. She watched his gaze drift past her shoulder, scanning the undulating dunes where scattered figures lounged like lazy lizards on hot rocks.

A breeze lifted the hem of her discarded sarong. She didn't reach to smooth it down. Instead, she turned onto her stomach, unhooking her bikini top with a fluid shrug. The fabric fell away, bare skin meeting sun-warmed sand. Steve’s breath hitched, just slightly. His hand stilled on her leg. He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear.

"See the man? About fifty meters back. Near the bent palm." His voice was low, rough at the edges.

Carrie tilted her head, sand gritting against her cheek. A figure sat alone, very still, watching them. Not staring. Watching. Her pulse kicked, a sudden, heavy throb low in her belly. She didn't look away.

"Lose the bottoms," Steve murmured, his hand sliding possessively over the curve of her hip.

"Lie back. Let him see you." The command was soft, intimate.

Carrie pushed herself up, the movement slow, deliberate. Her fingers found the tie at her hips. The thin fabric slithered down her legs. She stretched out on her back on the towel, the sun hot and direct on her bare skin, her body fully exposed to the sky and the distant watcher.

Steve uncapped the sunscreen. The coconut scent bloomed thick in the air. He poured a generous pool onto her sternum. Warm oil met hotter skin. His palms pressed down, spreading the slickness slowly outward. He worked with deliberate care, thumbs circling her breasts, fingers tracing the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips. Every stroke was a performance, lingering, possessive, ensuring the glide of his hands over her oiled skin was visible from a distance.

Her breath caught as his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts, a soft sound escaping her lips. She arched above slightly into his touch, her gaze fixed on the blue dome of the clear sky, acutely aware of the heat of the sun, the grit of sand beneath the towel, the heavy scent of coconut, and the unwavering presence of the watcher in the dunes. Steve’s hands moved lower, smoothing oil down her thighs, his knuckles grazing her inner skin. A flush spread across her chest, deeper than the sunburn.

He poured more oil directly onto her mound, the sudden warmth making her gasp. His palms pressed flat against her inner thighs, applying gentle pressure.

"Open for me, Carrie," he murmured, his voice thick and low.

She shifted, letting her knees fall wide apart, the movement exposing her completely to the sun and the open air. The breeze ghosted over her slick skin, an intimate caress that made her shiver despite the heat.

His fingers slid through her folds, parting them deliberately, spreading the oil with slow, slick strokes. He lingered, massaging the swollen flesh, his thumb circling her clitoris with practiced pressure. A low moan vibrated in Carrie's throat, her hips lifting involuntarily off the towel. Her nipples tightened into hard peaks, standing stark against her flushed skin, undeniable signals of her building arousal. She bit her lower lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before snapping open, seeking the distant figure.

Steve leaned over her, his own breathing shallow.

"He’s closer now," he whispered, his gaze fixed not on her face, but on the dune behind her.

His fingers continued their insistent rhythm, spreading her wider, making her glisten in the harsh sunlight. Carrie’s moans grew louder, less controlled, echoing faintly in the vast, sun-baked silence of the dunes.

His other hand guided hers, pressing it firmly against the straining fabric of his swim trunks. She needed no further prompting. Her fingers slid beneath the elastic waistband, finding the hard, hot length of him. She pulled his cock free, the thick shaft springing up against her palm, already slick with pre-cum. She began to stroke him, her grip tight and sure, matching the relentless pace of his fingers inside her, her own arousal slicking the base of his shaft where her knuckles brushed her swollen folds.

Carrie’s eyes lifted, locking onto the figure standing perhaps twenty meters away now – a lean young man, shirtless, his own trunks tented obscenely. Steve held the gaze, his expression unreadable except for the intensity burning in his eyes. He didn’t speak. He simply gave a single, subtle nod of his head towards the empty space on the towel beside Carrie’s trembling body. An unmistakable invitation.

The young man hesitated for only a heartbeat. Then, with deliberate steps that kicked up small puffs of pale sand, he began to walk towards them. Carrie watched his approach through half-lidded eyes, her hand still pumping Steve’s cock, her hips still rocking against his expert fingers. The stranger’s gaze was fixed on her spread legs, on the slick evidence of her pleasure glistening under the relentless Canarian sun. He stopped at the edge of their towel, his shadow falling across Carrie’s oiled skin. He didn’t speak. He just watched, his hand moving slowly to the waistband of his own trunks.

Carrie squinted up into his face, the sun haloing his dark hair. He was younger than she’d thought, maybe mid-twenties, with sharp cheekbones and a mouth set in a tight line of concentration. Her gaze drifted down, past the defined muscles of his abdomen, to the unmistakable, straining bulge tenting the front of his thin swim trunks. It was substantial. Huge. A thrill, sharp and electric, shot through her. Without looking away, she pointed directly at the bulge, then made a slow, deliberate downward gesture with her hand. ‘Show me.’

He needed no more encouragement. His fingers hooked into the waistband. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed the fabric down over his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, already fully erect. It curved upwards slightly, the head flushed a deep, purple against his tanned skin. Carrie gasped, a sharp intake of breath that had nothing to do with Steve’s fingers still working her clit. It was magnificent. Primal need surged, hot and insistent, low in her belly. Instantly, she knew she wanted that stranger’s cock inside her. Her thighs fell wider apart, an unspoken, urgent invitation.

Steve’s hand stilled between her legs. He watched the young man, his expression unreadable except for the slight flare of his nostrils. His own cock pulsed in Carrie’s grip.

"Go on," Steve murmured, his voice rough sandpaper against the quiet. "Take what you want."

He shifted slightly, giving the young man space to kneel on the towel, his gaze locked on the thick shaft hovering inches from Carrie’s glistening entrance. The air crackled, thick with coconut oil, salt, and raw, naked anticipation. The dunes seemed to hold their breath.

The young man knelt. His olive skin glowed under the sun, dark hair damp at his temples. He didn’t speak, his dark eyes fixed intently on Carrie’s spread body. He understood Steve’s permission, the primal invitation in the nod and the space made for him. His slim hands settled on her thighs, warm and soft. He pushed them wider apart, his gaze tracing the slick path Steve’s fingers had left. A low sound escaped him – appreciation, hunger. He leaned forward, his cockhead brushing against her swollen folds, finding her entrance with instinctive ease. The contact sent a visible tremor through Carrie.

He pushed in. Not slowly, not tentatively, but with a single, deep, claiming thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her. Carrie cried out, a sharp, ragged sound that echoed off the dunes, attracting distant attention.

Her back arched violently off the towel, her fingers tightening convulsively around Steve’s shaft. The young man held himself deep, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the tight, wet heat enveloping him. Then he began to move. Long, powerful strokes that pulled almost all the way out before driving back in with relentless force. The slap of skin against skin, wet and rhythmic, joined the sigh of the breeze.

Steve watched, mesmerised. He saw the ripple of muscle in the young man’s back, the sheen of sweat forming on his olive skin. He saw Carrie’s face, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream that broke into gasps with every deep plunge. Her free hand scrabbled at the towel, knuckles white. Steve’s own arousal was a live wire. He guided her hand on his cock, setting a faster, urgent pace.

"Look at him, Carrie," he growled, his voice thick.

"Look at the man fucking you."

Her eyes flew open, locking onto the intense, dark gaze of the stranger filling her, owning her under the wide, blue sky.

The young man’s rhythm was relentless, fluid, each powerful thrust driving deep, stretching Carrie beyond anything she’d ever felt. A low groan tore from his throat as he felt her inner muscles clench around him.

“You can kiss him,” Steve confirmed seeing how much his wife wanted to.

Carrie lifted her upper back towards the young man, her face nearly reaching his, her mouth open, inviting.  His piercing blue eyes, fierce and focused, locked onto hers. He saw the raw need there, the surrender. With a guttural sound, he leaned down, capturing her open mouth in a searing kiss. His lips were hot, demanding. Carrie met him hungrily, her tongue tangling with his, tasting salt and sun. Her hands slid down from his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard swell of his ass, pulling him deeper, harder, ensuring she took every inch of that thick, claiming shaft.

The kiss broke only when Carrie gasped for air, her head falling back. The young man didn’t relent. He braced himself, forearms sinking into the sand beside her head, his body a piston driving into hers. The world narrowed to the slap of skin, the guttural sounds ripped from their throats, the scent of sex mingling with coconut oil. Carrie’s cries grew higher, sharper, her body arching off the towel, meeting each thrust with desperate hunger. She felt the coil inside her tightening unbearably, a pressure building with every deep stroke that rubbed against her most sensitive spot.

Steve’s breath came in ragged gasps. He watched his wife writhe beneath the stranger, her body slick and trembling, her pleasure undeniable. He saw the stranger’s jaw clench, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, more erratic. Steve’s own climax surged, unstoppable.

"Come for him, Carrie," he commanded, his voice raw.

As if his words triggered the release, Carrie’s body seized. A high, keening wail tore from her as her back arched impossibly high, her inner walls clamping down in violent spasms around the thick cock buried deep inside her. The young man grunted, a sound like a punch, and drove into her one last time, his body rigid as he emptied himself with a shudder that shook them both.

Thick pulses of hot cum flooded Carrie’s depths. She felt it, an overwhelming rush, spilling deep and impossible to contain. Her pussy clenched and fluttered around him, milking every last drop as her own orgasm tore through her in blinding waves. Her fingers dug into the young man’s sweat-slicked back, clinging to him as if he were an anchor in the storm. Below them, the beach towel darkened as her body convulsed, unable to hold the sheer volume. Milky streams of the stranger’s release oozed from her stretched entrance, pooling onto the terrycloth beneath her trembling hips.

Steve was already moving. His cock, slick with her arousal and his own pre-cum, throbbed violently. He shifted forward on his knees, the head nudging against Carrie’s parted, gasping lips. Her eyes, glazed with pleasure, met his. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth wide, taking him in, her tongue swirling around the swollen tip. The sensation, combined with the sight of her lover’s seed still leaking from her onto the towel, pushed Steve over the edge. He groaned, low and primal, his hips jerking as he thrust deep into her mouth. Rope after thick rope of his own release pumped down her throat, her lips stretched tight around his shaft as she swallowed hungrily, her throat working to take every drop.

The young man finally pulled out slowly, his softening cock glistening with their mingled fluids. He watched, breathing heavily, as Carrie continued to suck Steve with desperate urgency, her body still trembling with aftershocks. Steve’s fingers tangled in her hair, holding her gently but firmly as he emptied himself completely.

The dunes seemed silent except for their harsh breathing and the distant sigh of the breeze. The young man sank back onto his heels, his dark eyes fixed on the intimate tableau before him – the wife taking her husband’s seed while his own dripped slowly from her onto the sun-warmed sand.

He stood up smoothly, the movement fluid despite the lingering tension in his muscles. His cock, still impressively thick even as it softened, bobbed against his thigh. Without a word, he pulled his thin swim trunks back up over his hips, the damp fabric clinging. He glanced down at Steve and Carrie, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips.

“Muy calient," he murmured, the Spanish words low and rough.

Then, turning, he walked away with unhurried strides, kicking up small puffs of pale sand that sparkled in the harsh sunlight, leaving them alone on the towel.

Steve finally slipped from Carrie’s mouth, a thin strand of saliva connecting them for a moment before breaking. He pushed himself up, reaching for his own discarded trunks. As he stood, pulling the damp fabric over his hips, his gaze swept the surrounding dunes. His movements froze.

Scattered across the crests and hollows, perhaps ten meters away in a loose semi-circle, sat a small crowd – maybe a dozen figures. Men and women, some naked, some partially clothed, all watching intently. A few reclined on towels, others sat cross-legged in the sand. One woman leaned against her partner, her hand subtly moving under a sarong draped across her lap. Their expressions were varied: curiosity, arousal, appreciation, a few simply observing with detached interest. They’d been there, silent spectators, all along.

Carrie pushed herself onto her elbows, her body slick and flushed, her eyes wide as she followed Steve’s gaze. A slow, lazy smile spread across her face, wider and more genuine than any she’d worn all day. She didn’t reach for her bikini. Instead, she stretched languidly, arching her back, unabashedly displaying the glistening mess between her thighs to the assembled onlookers.

"Well," she breathed, her voice husky, her eyes meeting Steve’s, sparkling with exhilaration and a newfound hunger.

"That was... spectacular." She paused, letting the implication hang in the hot, heavy air thick with the scent of sex and coconut oil.

"Two weeks, darling. Think we can top that?"