by Sandy Whitby
Lovers come and go, like the wind changing direction. There have been men who I thought to be worthy of affection and time expended, but then found the man not to be the one as originally advertised, so to speak. Perhaps these men felt the same about me.
As I sort my life, I do not regret love, but rather lovingly reflect and focus on the good, and of course, the lessons I’ve learned. Perhaps one day, the lover I take will be my last, not because my time has run out, but rather because of who he is and who I am.
Lust, love and endorphins, my mind reconciles my sexual experiences, as they are stolen moments in time, each safely examined, weighed fairly by conscience and self-honesty, and in the end I chose to kindly frame them as sweet memories. They each are intimate unique surfs, like waves crashing on an ocean shore, very different, some strong and forceful, and yet others more calm and washing gently upon the sand.
Summer is my favorite season for innumerable reasons. The hot steamy nights and the feeling of energy, the never-ending waves lapping the shoreline. Live music and dancing, sweating bodies, many of which are fueled by alcohol lowered inhibitions, and hopes of “getting lucky”, or worse, the desire of “finding the one”.
I avoid, the newly single golfer types, with their un-suntanned white skin on their ring finger, the hidden truth of their wedding rings shoved deep in their pockets, the truth that they are looking for “beach pussy”. A very dear friend coined this crude but accurate phrase. She lovingly warned me, that my dancing ways were target for these beach amnesiacs, who so easily get lost in their fantasies.
The individual can seem to easily get lost in the allure, along with their wedding vows made at a younger age when desires and sexual preferences were not fully communicated, or maybe even understood. Maybe they were too young or emotionally immature to be honest with themselves, and here, the Atlantic summer paradise possesses the spirit of misplaced love and lust, equal, separate, or coexisting, yet still a lie to be buried beneath the sand, to stay there when they return to their real lives.
So in the end, at least, at this point in my life, I was at the BYOB juncture (bring your own boy), and had a secret lover away from the club, so dancing was just dancing. As usual, leaving the club with promises of “love you” fell upon deaf ears, but left a small smile of my face.
As I returned to my condo, I was lost deep in thought… I was trying to decide if I had made a poor choice by deciding to make the call. My BYOB was taken. He was not yet free of his marital status, though the process was begun over a year ago. I am wrestling the angst of the knowledge that a temporary thing can be good in some ways, but in the long run impairs the clarity of my soul.
The choices I make when my body is human, my soul holds the knowledge that life is temporary, and yet my heart hates to be lonely, so choices are balanced by the context of the moment. I know communication begins within oneself. In this instance the want of my body won the battle.
My thoughts reminded me that he did not want to go out with me; and that he’d stayed in. After a night of dancing in my little black dress with anyone and everyone, I drove back to the condo, still a bit pissed that I didn’t get to dance with him, and I reexamined every offer I’d had all night long.
Driving into the garage area, I could see the lights were on in his place. Pulling into the parking lot I reach for my phone and call him. He answers after two rings, and I ask him if he is up for a walk in the park. He, of course, answers, “yes”. I am assuming he may be a wee bit sorry he did not come out to dance with me.
As he rounds the corner, he sees me sitting in my car, toying with my phone, with the driver’s side door open, and one long toned tan leg, punctuated by a sexy black summer sandal, tapping on the pavement. He senses not anger, but sexual frustration.
As he came closer, he lovingly called out to me, and let out a single abstract, sensual sound. I swiveled my hips and swung the other leg out of the car to stand and greet him.
He leans into me and smells my hot sweaty body, which is a mix of my natural body fragrance and sweet honeysuckle perfume. Immediately a rush of memories floods his consciousness, memories of those long legs wrapped around him, my sweet laugh, and the deep kisses that passion could only begin to describe. After drinking in my aroma he gave me a quick hug; and then we exchange a look and a smile.
Even though the hug is brief, I can feel his immediate hardness against my right hip. I know he wanted me to feel him.
Strong, tall, fit, athletic I had noticed him subconsciously when I thought he was someone else, several full summers before I finally slept with him. I had a brief quivering flash back to that day.
I’d headed out to walk on the beach very early one summer morning. I was early around 6:30 am. It was still early enough to still be cool, and I wore only her tiny bikini covered with a plain fitted white tee shirt; actually I was close to naked, but hey, it was the beach.
Preoccupied when the elevator stopped on the second floor, and a man entered with his bike. Lost in thought fighting a headache and planning I went to get some coffee, it didn’t sink in that he was not my neighbor on the third floor.
All of a sudden after speaking to him I thought was someone else, my psyche kicked in and realized that he wasn’t who I thought he was; in fact he was umm very manly. I felt naked, my bikini not-withstanding.
Each time I caught sight of him, that first moment of awareness of my nearly naked body next to him, haunts me. I felt like Eve wanting to take a bite of the forbidden fruit. What a confusing moment wrapped in much primal sexual awareness; an authentic rousing memory.
I blurted out how I’d missed him, and that I had wanted badly to dance with him, to feel his body pressed up against mine as my body moved to the music. Dancing with him was like having sex in public, but fully dressed, as my mind knew every nuance of his body, and it triggered endorphins just thinking about him.
We decided to move our conversation to the park. As we saunter side by side down the walking path in the park, he reaches over and quickly grabs my hand, an unspoken apology and a reassurance all in one gesture. Suddenly it’s as if the whole world disappeared , it’s just the two, alone, under the stars on a breezy summer night
In a mere five minutes, we were approaching a long dock, and there are a few people crabbing on the front end, but we continue on past, and the dock has gazebo part way with yet others in attendance, and then continue to the very end of the long dock to be alone.
As we got closer and closer to the end of the dock, we’d stop and kiss.
My hand strayed and landed on his crotch, and I instinctively rubbed his very stiff penis. Even through the fabric of his shorts, I could easily feel the extent of his desire and readiness.
I look around and we are alone.
I love how he tastes. His hands find their way up and down my snug black low-cut knee length silky nylon dress, and at the same time calling up every nerve ending in my body.
Within seconds of reaching the end of the dock, his mouth finds my breasts, and with a bit of maneuvering he has lowered the top half of my dress enough to put his mouth on my erect nipples as he pulls me onto his lap. We now rest on a permanent fixed bench. He slides my dress up just enough to free and clear my hips so as to position me astride him.
Facing him we find a rhythm of sorts after some tugging at the zipper in his shorts.
We manage to manipulate things so that he is inside me. He moves my hair aside and begins to kiss the side of my neck. I moan. My back arches as I experienced my first orgasm with him.
Amid a small series of orgasms, suddenly a man rides toward us on a bike, and rides up and begins speaking to us. He’s not quite aware of exactly what was occurring.
I lean into my lover, and bury my face In his chest, so that my breasts and my devilish grin are not exposed to the bike rider.
I momentarily reflect on how oddly safe I feel with him inside me mid-coitus, all the while having a stranger talking to us.
The man on the bike can see me sitting on my lover, my bare legs wrapped around him, and my body pressed up against his, but not really anything more. The conversation is brief and he rides off.
Laughing at the situation, we mutter a few asides until he fills his mouth with my breast. I orgasm again, and draws in his essence, while I am looking out at the beautiful night stars above the water. Waves of pleasure fill my body as we move rhythmically until I climax all over him.
Still laughing and dizzy with pleasure we readjust our clothing.
Walking back I realize that he did not climax. As we were passed a part of the park with exercise equipment and benches, I pull him into the area and position him on the bench.
Then this time it is I who shimmies down the top of my black dress and expose my erect nipples to him. I moan as I then unzip his shorts and removes his penis from his underwear, as I am still far from finished. I begin to suck his penis. As I listen to his breathing while sucking and stroking him, he pulls me up to kiss him.
I then continue to stoke his penis, and I know without words, exactly how he loves the head handled rhythmically, and can tell by his breathing that I’m in the zone. I now must focus to keep it just right, so as to bring him to shudder. I’m a bit concerned that he might not climax as we are in the open and not protected by a long dock, or much of anything else.
As he nears the climax I smile. I know his sound. Oh how hot it is to make him cum on a park bench in the park in middle of the night. I then use my forefinger to swipe some of his semen off his abdomen, as if stealing icing off a cupcake, and wipe it on my lips, and then take more and he caress my bare breasts with is cum. He then sucks my nipples as I moan and orgasm once again.
Later after I wash the dried semen away I once again feel the waves of endorphins wash across the synapses my brain, causing bittersweet moments of sadness and joy.
In an instant, a slight breeze carrying a stray noise reminds us, we are in a public park
We both quickly reposition, button up, and walk back in a mutual quiet state, only to part ways at my vehicle. There would be no post coital cuddling. I was consciously moving away from this forbidden situation, knowing my heart would slowly heal, but yet will preserve the sweet sultry moments we shared together.
I knew all too well that divorce may take months to years to process, before mending heals the heart. Falling too deeply in love or lust with anyone who has experienced the impairment brought by love lost, may soon discover a recipe for pain. Preserving the memory now framed in a soft glow would be my only goal….