Finding John, part 3

A weekend on the coast

Not even four days had passed before John texted, “Want to ride up to Tiesma Road Beach and spend a long weekend at my cottage in Empire? I’d hate spending the holiday weekend without you.” My heart was pounding, and I was tingling everywhere. John continued, “How about Saturday’s picnic on you, the weekend’s dinners on me? Fresh trout and sweet corn for Saturday?”

It was midweek, and I’d been losing my mind waiting to hear from John. Last weekend’s encounter had set me on fire, and I couldn’t get him out of my mind. Of course I was up for a weekend at Sleeping Bear Dunes—the weather was predicted to be perfect, and the views incomparable—white sand beaches and bright blue waves, with crisp, refreshing breezes. And there is nothing like a sunset on Lake Michigan—absolutely delicious. Could he have picked a more romantic spot? I don’t think so. It took me all of 10 minutes to cancel everything I had scheduled—my weekend was now wide open.

I texted back, “Fantastic plan. This makes my week! Trout and sweet corn - perfect, and I’ll bring prosciutto, provolone, focaccia, and iced ginger tea for Saturday’s picnic.” The beaches on the west coast of Michigan, especially that spot at Tiesma Road, are the best in the midwest, and Tiesma was an especially quiet spot with almost no tourists, even during high season. We’d have the beachfront to ourselves for as far as the eye could see, this I knew, and that was certainly on John’s mind when he planned our weekend.

Saturday morning, John arrived promptly at 7:00 a.m., his metallic blue Porsche Cayenne gleaming and packed with everything needed for a romantic three days. In the front seat cupholders were two large insulated tumblers, which he informed me were filled with French press coffee and steamed milk. Fluffy croissants were peeking out of their wrappers in the passenger-side door map pocket. Intriguingly - a colorful antique quilt was stretched across the back seat, with two down pillows situated on one end. As John loaded my bags into the tailgate, I saw a large cooler, which, when opened, revealed an enticing array of weekend provisions – farmers market fruits and veggies, cheeses and dips, breakfast provisions, the trout, and some gourmet sausages. We would be eating well. Also in the back were two marbled paper gift bags, their contents hidden by cream tissue paper, obviously from a posh department store. Excitement and anticipation were building, and we’d not yet left my driveway.

Besides having every detail in order, John looked amazing. His clothes were simple and tasteful: a freshly pressed navy linen shirt with khaki shorts and flip-flops. His thick white beard and mustache were neatly trimmed, and his silver hair had clearly just been cut - a sexy close-cropped buzz cut. John had a luscious bronze glow, no doubt from the biking and horseback riding he did regularly. And don’t get me started on the furry chest peeking out from the top of his shirt and those slim, muscular legs. Just looking at him made me wet.

I wasn’t looking too bad myself - smooth, strong legs and arms and a vibrant tan, all from doing laps daily at the university pool. Solid and voluptuous, if I do say so myself. I had packed everything sexy from my summer wardrobe, minus nightwear, because why bother with that? For our first romantic excursion, I was neatly tucked into a soft, fuschia tank dress over a bright white ribbed tank top. No bra needed. And the cool morning air made me a tad nipply, which did not go unnoticed. Well-worn tan leather sandals, minimal makeup, and small silver hoops rounded out the look, with my silvery shoulder-length hair pulled back and up in a shell clip to accentuate my neck, which I prayed would be ravished by John’s mouth.

After packing all my bags into the back, John came around to my side of the car, grabbed my hips with his large hands, pulling my pelvis into his, and then intently leaning in for a crushing, wet kiss, one that went on and on. I grabbed his head with my soft, just-manicured hands, holding his bearded cheeks in place until I was done exploring his mouth, sucking in his beautiful, fresh breath in the process. I have to say that if John and I had been lab partners, we’d have had an A+ in chemistry. I could feel warm juices trickling down my inner thighs as John grew thicker and tight in his shorts. I was so glad to have left my underwear in my suitcase. I wasn’t going to need it today, or at any other time this weekend, clearly.

Before getting completely sidetracked, John released me, then broke our reverie by abruptly opening the car door. I pulled my Ray-Bans down onto my nose to hide my no-doubt unhinged expression from the neighbors, then packed myself into the soft leather bucket seat, letting my dress ride up, not-so-subtly. John came around to the other side, plopped himself enthusiastically behind the wheel, cranked up a set of summery tunes as he backed out, then headed northbound on Highway 31 into the bright June day.

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We had three hours of gorgeous views, my getting to drive the Porsche, and blasting favorite tunes with the windows rolled down—it was like high school all over again, hormones surging. We landed briefly in Empire and dropped off all of our stuff at John’s cottage, stuck the perishables in the fridge, threw on swimsuits (which nearly upended the entire day’s plans - would we make it out of the bedroom?), then off we set for the beach.

As predicted, the parking lot for Tiesma Road Beach was completely deserted, and we made a beeline for the farthest spot from the entrance, putting the car well into the shade and nearly hidden. Famished after the long ride, and though it was difficult to keep our hands off one another, our stomachs ruled the day. We grabbed the picnic provisions, the Hydro Flask of iced ginger tea, and a huge blanket and headed straight to the beach. It was noon, and there was not a soul in sight.

John opened up the blanket and shook it out in front of himself, where it caught the wind and billowed. He gracefully guided it down to the sand, at which point I anchored it with the insulated picnic bag and our bag of towels and miscellany. We plopped down and pulled out the food, spreading it between us. Ravenous, we stacked meat and cheese onto tomato foccacia and fed it to each other, washing down everything with crisp ginger tea.

Once satiated, we packed the picnic remains in the bag and stripped down to bathing suits, then stretched out next to each other on the blanket. The warm sun and gentle breeze lulled us into a dreamy slumber, both of us exhausted by the tapestry of long work days and sleepless nights as we had waited all week for this next encounter. Add to that the long ride north we had just made - we were primed for a good nap.

After what seemed like hours, I opened my eyes, a bit disoriented, trying to remember where I was and with whom. My skin had absorbed a considerable amount of sun, I could feel it, but as I was sleeping, John had pitched the umbrella, and now I was in its shade. Then I caught sight of John, who was lying on his side facing me, head resting on his hand. He’d obviously been checking me out as I slept, as he had a full-on erection and that serious look of determination men get when it’s that time.

We both sat up and positioned ourselves close enough to touch and kiss, me also gently squeezing John’s penis through his trunks. John suggested we remove our suits and work some lotion onto our sun-scorched skin. I pulled the mango coconut oil out of my bag and handed it to him, then proceeded to peel off my sweaty turquoise bathing suit. John watched intently, then asked if I would do the honor of removing his trunks. I enthusiastically unknotted the waistband, and the tip of his dick, glistening, popped out the top. I then gingerly pulled the suit down as he lifted up his hips. He finished the job—pulling the shorts all the way down, then kicking them to the side. There we were, for the first time, completely naked in front of one another. It was hard to look into his eyes as mine drifted to his furry chest and to his even furrier tummy and then to his impressively swollen dick, scrotum dangling invitingly below. My cunt was blazing and no doubt as wet as all get-out. I felt flush everywhere.

John edged closer and reached out to touch me between my legs, sliding his middle finger into my slit, dipping into my vagina to feel my wetness. I laid on my back, arching upward to bring my breasts to his lips, which vigorously sucked on both. I felt the slick tip of his penis rubbing on my hip, and all I could think of was his taking me, right there on the beach.

John then pulled back, looking in all directions to ensure we were not being seen. After determining we had total privacy, he then reached for the oil, sat up cross-legged, and proceeded to oil up every part of my body, gently starting with my neck, chest, and breasts, working in the fragrant oil, then deeply massaging my arms, hands, and fingers. My body melted into the blanket, succumbing to his touch. As he neared my pelvis, he hesitated, then moved down to my feet, kneading his way upward, over my calves, then working at length on my thighs. He then asked me to lie on my stomach so he could work on the backs of my legs and on my glutes. As he did a deep tissue massage on my glutes, his big, thick thumbs worked the upper insides of my thighs, coming dangerously close to my anus and introitus, setting off a vast network of nerves that lit up my entire brain. It felt heavenly, and it made my cunt want his dick more than ever. John sensed my growing urgency and suggested we grab our belongings and head back to the car. It would do no good to get caught in a compromising position on the beach.

After working sandy toes into flip-flops and still nude, we bunched all the miscellaneous items into the blanket, broke down the umbrella, and then scrambled over the sand dune, carefully avoiding poison ivy along the way. As we crested the top of the dune, the path to the parking lot came into view, and beyond that, John’s car. Upon arriving at the car, John hastily opened the boot, tossed in the heap of beach items and our sandy flip-flops, after which he led me, barefoot, to the back seat of the Cayenne, where the purpose of the quilt and pillows became clear. As we were both still unencumbered due to our lack of clothing, it was easy to situate ourselves comfortably on the back seat, with me on the bottom. Before joining me, John first leaned into the car, and put his head between my invitingly opened legs, sticking his tongue into my slit, licking the full length of my inner labia, which he then gently separated to pop my clit, engulfing it in his mouth and tugging on it until it was fully erect, nearly bringing me to climax. John then directed me to work myself to the end of the seat and the pillows, one of which I put behind my head, the other under my ass.

John then brought himself fully into the back seat and laid his furry abdomen on top of mine, his dick positioned right at the entrance to my cubbyhole. His soft chest hair tenderly grazed my nipples, releasing a heady dose of oxytocin. John then reached between my splayed legs and directed his dick to that hot, wet spot, which was already contracting slightly in anticipation. I sucked him in with my strong pelvic muscles, feeling his thick tip push through, his glans slowly rubbing itself back and forth across my G-spot, punctuated every so often with the forceful thrust of his dick, going right up to my cervix, causing me to gasp with excitement.

This rubbing and thrusting continued for who-knows-how-long; we were totally lost in the warmth of the summer afternoon, the breeze caressing the hair on John’s balls as it met the torrent of sweat and bodily fluids running between his legs. Every nerve activated, the inevitable happened; John’s pulsing and thrusting sent me over the edge, the contractions of which caused him to fill me with warm semen. The release was incredible and soothing, and within minutes of our climaxes, every muscle on both of our bodies relaxed like a weighted blanket.

Our spent bodies smelled of the blackberries we had eaten at breakfast, a sweet, earthy fragrance I will not forget.

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