Summer Relief
By Cheri Crystal
It had been a year since my partner left me for a younger, fitter and prettier model. I hadn’t realized just how shallow Penny was until she spat, “You’re too bloody fat and I hate your hair!” Seriously? We both knew the real reason we split was due to her mid-life crisis and loss of libido—not mine. Sick of ruminating about how wrong I’d been about her earlier, I booked a summer holiday in Dartmouth for relief. A new outlook should get me out of my rut.
Blackpool Sands brochure couldn’t capture the fragrance of sea air and pine. With luck the sunny skies would last. On day one, wearing baggy shorts and t-shirt, I carried a towel to the beach with plans of lounging while reading a trashy novel.
I finished the juicy bit in my book when I needed a stretch. On the way to the cafe, I spotted a willowy blonde posing at the kayak rental stand. With bronzed skin, belted boy shorts and bikini bra in a brightly-coloured orange like the safety vests worn by road crew, her demeanour shouted, “Shag me now!” Or maybe, “Caution!” My resultant adrenaline overload put me in a right mess in my nether regions. She glanced my way and with her simple nod, I was in lust. I forgot what I set out to do and had a prime view of her bum on the way back to my towel.
Before I knew it, she stood at my feet. I stared up at her breasts supported by underwire straining at the seams. Perhaps she would allow me to help before her straps gave out? She smelled of toasted coconut. Irresistible.
“Hiya, alright?” She checked me over lingering at my lips and tits and chuckled at my toes. I could be such a girl and had painted my nails a creamy tango red called, “Forever Young.”
This tanned goddess had to be a figment of my hypersexual imagination. My lips dried up and my pussy grew wet. I needed a brisk swim to camouflage my desire.
“We rent kayaks. You interested?”
I stood and brushed shingle sand off my shorts. “How much?”
“For you?” She sized me up again. “It’s on me.”
“Thanks mate. I haven’t tried this before.”
“Okay if I give you a few pointers?”
“Yes please.”
She grabbed her personal kayak instead of a rental.
“You climb in front.”
“Are you sure? It’s rather small.”
“Rubbish. I’ll take the stern.” She moistened her lips and I nearly drowned. The water temperature was only 16 degrees, if that. Between her nipples popping out and my internal inferno, the cold helped keep my rising heat at bay, barely.
“I’m Handy Mandy, your instructor.”
“Loose Linda,” I teased back.
“Perfect partners, us.” Her grin was as wide as mine. “Shall we get started then?”
“Yes, please.” I may have sounded eager, but I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm.
“Come closer.”
She placed her arms and legs around me. “Hand me the paddle and lean way back.”
No problem! Blimey, she was hot.
With skilful manoeuvres she picked up speed and rowed beyond the buoys.
“Shouldn’t we stay within the marked area?”
“We’ll be fine.” Her muscles flexed as she steered, her crotch grinding into my bum. I nearly came in my pants.
In sync with the subtle waves we moved further away from the shore when she handed me the oar. “Your turn.” Her breath warmed my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
I kept a tight grip on the paddle, thrilled about my new skill when I noticed her fingers inch their way up my thighs and past the entrance of my shorts.
“Keep going,” she instructed. That should have been my line, but I was too breathless.
“Steady, girl,” she said, after my paddling became erratic.
I threw my head back, lost my bearings and gasped when her fingers found my pussy.
“You feel amazing.”
I gulped in sea air as she feverishly worked my clit with her thumb, thrusting two fingers into my pussy.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes, please, oh yes.”
On the open water, with only the gulls and my goddess as witness, I rocked the kayak with wild abandon until my clit was ready to explode.
“Let it go!”
I came so hard, we capsized. The life vest kept me afloat, but she gave me mouth-to-mouth, just in case. After the hottest sex and sweetest kiss, I was out of my rut. What a relief.