I don’t know what drove us to head back to the beach that night. Maybe we were summoned by the sound of perpetual waves rolling onto the wet sand. Maybe we were drawn to the idea of warm air surrounding us. Maybe our sandy feet from our stroll earlier that day caused us to make the drive back. Whatever it was, the romantic notion of “fucking at the beach” was too strong to ignore. But the fact was it was still winter. And despite us being in Florida, I bundled up as tight as I could, putting on layer upon layer of clothes from whatever was available in our car. I started off with a brown spaghetti strap tank top, tan wrap skirt, and flip flops and added a black scarf, my pea coat, and fur-lined suede boots. According to the reading on the rearview mirror, it was 43 degrees outside.
Almost immediately after Ryan shuffled around to open my door, the wind cut through my thin skirt, my boots doing little to keep me warm. The frigid air enveloped me, letting me know it would not show any mercy. It was past midnight on a Sunday and we hoped we would have the beach to ourselves. Ryan told me to put my arms around him and that he would keep me warm. I wrapped my scarf around my face like a mummy, buttoned up my coat, and pulled my sleeves down over my hands, but nothing I did provided relief. We looked across the empty road dividing the parking lot and the beach and saw a lone car parked on the far right. Three people with backpacks and hoodies came out; I was quick to judge, calling them “stoners.” I was disappointed because I didn’t want anyone else around. We kept walking and our paths crossed at the wooden ramp leading onto the beach. The wind seemed to blow harder as we neared the water. Ripples on the sand looked like tiny little grainy waves suspended in time, as we were like giants looking down at sand dunes. Fortunately our destinations lead us away from them and we end up on the lifeguard chair while they turned right and stayed near the water’s edge a safe 50 yards away. My legs shook from the cold and it didn’t help that we were walking on sand. We sat on the bottom plank of the lifeguard chair and constantly keep looking at the stoners. I look at them like they’re nuts as they run from the waves coming in before settling down away from the incoming tide.
With the temperature so low, I felt secure that no one was behind us. Those three shouldn’t even been out here. But they were, and that’s what prompts me to do what I did next.
The stiff board creaked beneath me as I hopped on and undid Ryan’s pants. I put my warm mouth on him, not giving the blistering wind a chance to get his dick cold. I swirled my tongue and suck him slow. I felt him slowly growing between my jaws as I turned him on making loud smacking noises as I sucked his dick. I moved my head up and down as he leaned his head back and enjoyed. My own eyes are closed too as the wind kept blowing grains of sand in my face.
Ryan paused and told me that he saw flashes of light coming from the direction of the stoners. When I looked up, sure enough, there were flashes of light intermittently blinking as each one was taking pictures on their mobile phones. I felt dirty, sexy, depraved – all at once. If it’s a show they want, it’s a show they’ll get. I knew were too far away from them to show any actual details, so I exaggerated my movements bobbing my head deep into his crotch, deepthroating his cock, then pulling away without letting go of his manhood, then back down and up again, slowly so they catch every movement on their cameras.
I told him to grab the back of my head with both hands and to thrust his hips back and forth. I opened my eyes and looked toward them; the lights continued to flash. I took his cock down my throat one last time and leave him dripping with my sticky spit. I moved my ass toward the edge of the wood board and slide my boots off. I leaned back on my elbows and pulled Ryan down over me. “Hold my legs up,” I told him. He scooped his arms under both my knees and soon my calves are mounted on his shoulders. He waited until I’d guided his cock between my lips before he begins pumping. I grabbed the belt loops on his jeans and signaled for him to fuck me faster.
Again, I looked at the three stoners who have made no attempt to hide exactly what they were doing. And why should they? We weren’t. The flashes became more frequent as they seemed to be scrambling to see who could get the best shot of my man fucking me. I gave them every opportunity. I stood up and turned around. Ryan lifted up my skirt onto my back. He took hold of my waist as he rammed his dick in me. “Harder!” I ordered him. He rammed his dick in me so hard my whole body thrusted forward. I tried to stop myself and more loose grains graze the skin on my palms. I stayed bent down, my face almost resting on the board as I faced our audience of three.
“I said harder!” and he obeyed. I said this loud enough for them to hear. I screamed each time his dick pistoned in and out of my pussy, making sure my cries are picked up over the waves sloshing behind them. “Oh, God! Oh, God!” I yelled repeatedly. “Fucking cum in me!” I kept screaming until Ryan grunted out from his cum. He laid his chest on my back and I waited for his dick to release his hot load in me. I stood back up and pulled my dress down. We’re “done,” but the flashing continues.
So if you see any pictures of a couple fucking on a lifeguard chair online that are of questionable quality, please link us. We’d like copies.