Undoubtedly, there will be some strong language herein. It also gets quite intense. Ye be warned.

Finally – finally – we’re at the beach. Tension I didn’t know I carried oozes right out my toes as I stand on the balcony, breathing the sharp air, listening to the sound speakers can’t quite replicate. Andrew wraps an arm around my middle and drops a kiss on my shoulder. There’s a promise of heat later when I feel the flick of his tongue before he draws back to go inside. I watch over my shoulder as he prepares to get our little dude to bed. There’s an ease to his movements, an extra swagger in his usual gracefulness. He’s more relaxed too.

I love the ocean. It’s silly – I’m too terrified to do more than wade waist deep into it. But as long as my husband and son are here with me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. This place is simultaneously awe-inspiring, soothing, electrifying, and joyful. My happy place is here – our happy place is here. When I’m having an anxiety attack, I close my eyes and drown out the sound of my pounding heartbeat with the sound of pounding surf. I picture the dancing lightning from amazing storms I’ve witnessed over white capped waves, recall the smell of salt laden air, and taste the inescapable sand that always manages to make its way somewhere, no matter how hard you try to prevent it.

We were given the incredible gift to honeymoon here in a lovely, beach side condo 8 years ago (some stories for another time *wink*). We haven’t always succeeded, but we try to get back for our anniversary. But enough of my ramblings.

It was a long trip that left my back aching. Ah, the joys of aging with back problems. It’s late, but I have to take a shower. Hopefully Hubby stays awake a little bit longer – he loves the beach even more than I. I’m quick in the shower, but like I said, it’s quite late. While packing, I’d realized my much neglected collection of lingerie no longer fit – not even the one I’d bought after pregnancy. I sigh. Ah well. Obviously I don’t really wear lingerie all that often, but times like now, I desire to put forth more effort. Mental note: look for something sexy at the store tomorrow.

It’s a double whammy of disappointment when I see he’s all but asleep when I get to bed. As quietly as I can, I slip between the sheets and am surprised and pleased when he curls his warm body around me. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve come to bed naked. It’s an invitation I’m hoping he takes, but honestly, I understand if it’s a no go.

“I thought you were asleep,” my voice is soft in the darkness. Hopeful.

“Almost,” his voice is gravely with sleep sneaking into it. He shifts around and presses his face into my stomach. There’s a query about how badly I’m hurting. I’m over being bothered by my aches and pains, and say as much. I can’t help it. The ghosts of memories past here are like an aphrodisiac. I’m warm and wanting. Please … Please …

Andrew hums into my stomach. I’m wet immediately, desire coiling in my belly. He rears up to watch me as his fingers tease over my abdomen, heading towards the place I desperately want him to touch. Please … yes

Gentle, feathery touches turn into firm circles around my clitoris. He latches onto my left nipple, rolling it around between his teeth while flicking his tongue over it. I’m already shuddering through an orgasm. What was that, one minute? Hell yeah. Andrew’s talented fingers are everywhere. The moment I sink into one sensation, he switches to another.

He’s stroking my slit, now drawing circles around my clit, now plunging inside with smooth, strong strokes. I have my hands pressed to the headboard to keep from banging my head into it. All the while he’s watching me with a singular intensity as sharp as a knife. In this manner he weaves me through a chain of multiple orgasms – never quite letting one end before orchestrating the next. He’s playing my body like an instrument, and I’m happy to make as much music as possible. I swear I’m trying to pleasure him with my hands, but they keep fumbling to a stop as I lose focus. Finally, he’s settling between my thighs, the head of his penis replaces his fingers and he eases inside. Shallow thrusts ride out a particularly nice orgasm. Thank you very much.

I’m whimpering. Andrew’s pace is languid, rolling, like the waves. Memories flash through my head of several previous times here. Once he pressed me up against a mirror-paneled wall to make me watch my own O face reflected. Another time he bent me over the couch so we could both watch the surf as we came. Then when we tried to be quiet enough for a go on the balcony, and ended up getting cat called. I rode him once in a chair positioned just inside the open balcony doors while a storm burst over the ocean in the dead of night. And again, we did reverse cowgirl in front of the closet mirror while he promised filthy things in my ear. Aphrodisiacs. The tingles at the base of my spine promise a big one is building.

Please,” I’m almost sobbing with desperation.

“‘Please’ what?” Andrew’s movements halt. He’s going to be the death of me. The little shit.

All I can manage is another please. He won’t let me ride up his length. Drawing his hips back even further, he leans down so his lips are at my ear.

“‘Please what?” Honey. His voice is honey.

“Fuck me,” I whisper. He’s surging back inside me before I can speak the second word. Strong, deep thrusts bring us closer and closer. I try to reach between us. A few quick flicks should tip me over, but he knocks my hand away in favor of his. Just as I’m about to have that white lightning, toe curling orgasm, he groans. His back is arching, and he’s still inside of me as deep as he can manage.

I’m nearly there. Just a few more. Please! He must see my desperation and returns to flicking my clitoris. My hips are out of my control. My hands are braced against the headboard. I feel bad my cries are probably scaring the neighbors. I think if they happen to bump into us in the halls, and see the absolute Adonis who is my husband, they might just give me a fist bump and roll on.

Or maybe they will, in fact, be scandalized. Who knows? There’s fire licking through my veins and a kaleidoscope bursting behind my eyelids. I’m all out of cares to give. I finally crest the peak. It’s so intense it hurts. He rides me through it with easy thrusts like sweet, sweet agony before we collapse onto the sheets. When I manage to crack my eyes open, I see the look of a man who’s ravenous and only just whet his appetite. I’m in for a wild week.

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