Miles | A Daydream at the Beach

The beach can be a calm or a seductive place.  Rules change, as do behaviors, but oftentimes there are constraints that can’t be avoided.  Picture a beach, extremely warm and bright.  A solitary female, very dark sunglasses, dark brown hair, is resting on a blanket after some lazy reading.  Knowing that a simple one-piece suit fits her everyday public persona, she instead has opted for a modest string bikini.  After all, she is forty years old, has two children, but maintains the body of an eighteen-year-old.  She likes the interested look of strangers, and there is little chance of someone from her daily life coming across her today.  If they did, she would relish the thought of this minor exhibitionism on her own terms.

The perils of too much sun are well known to all, and the spouse appears to remind her about a fresh application of sun block.  She acknowledges the concern and notes she needs some help.  A mechanical application of lotion across the back and between the shoulder blades covers the hard to reach spots.  The rest of the surface area is left to the lady.  As she lies back down on her stomach, she unties the neck and back straps of her top and thinks about how it might have been.

A low voice asks her if she has been in the sun very long.  He suggests that her skin is starting to show a touch of pink, and it might be time for some more lotion.  She thinks about it and agrees that a fresh application of sun block would be a good idea.  He offers to help, and she nods her assent.

He begins at the nape of her neck, working downward with both hands and slowly massaging the muscles toward her shoulders.  Lightly applying a layer of sun block to the top, side and back of her ears, he is careful not to get lotion in her hair.  He notes the sensitivity in her lobes as he gently squeezes them.  He returns to her neck, senses that she is not relaxed, and slowly works the tension from that area.

He notes the delicate tone, yet subtle strength in her shoulders as he works slowly downward.  Circular motion with first one hand and then the other covers the blades and the center of her back.  Her arms are resting loosely at her sides, partially in modesty at her essential toplessness.  He reaches down and extends her left arm, applying lotion starting at the shoulder and working down the upper arm, which can be covered on both sides at once.  First the triceps, biceps and elbow, and then down to the forearm and wrist.  Special attention is paid to her hand, with each finger receiving individual treatment.  The process is repeated for the right arm.

She is more relaxed now, and places her arms above her, with her hands crossed to form a pillow.  She anticipates his firm hands and the lotion on her lower back.

His hands do not disappoint.  He begins on her spine, half way down her back, tracing small circles with his fingertips, and working methodically lower until he reaches the top edge of her swimsuit.  With both hands on the center of her lower back, he extends the motion outward until the hands work to the side of her slender waist.  Slowly he applies the lotion on her sides, extending up to the start of her rib cage.

She feels a new drop of lotion on the small of her back.  His right hand takes it and begins moving down and in a smooth motion his fingers probe across her back, underneath the waist of her bikini by no more than an inch.  “We wouldn’t want you to burn if your suit shifted a little,” offered the voice.  She smiles, but does not speak.

Attention moves to her feet.  Long and narrow, with garnet polish, they have always looked to her unattractive.  Like most women who have features somewhat at variance with the popular standards society sets out in airbrushed photographs, she is unduly critical.  He knows better.  Her feet are sensuous in the extreme and he lingers over them.

Each toe receives as close attention as the fingers did.  The balls of her feet are gently caressed. 

She suppresses a giggle as his touch is a bit too light.  Sensing this, he increases the pressure and lengthens the strokes along her foot.  Both feet are thoroughly massaged and completely protected from the sun.

By now her legs have moved slightly apart, allowing his hands full access to each muscle.  The narrow ankles look too fragile to support any weight at all, and her calves flow in a graceful arch down her leg.  His hands work purposefully up to her knee on each side. 

Her sense of ease is now dominating, but there is also a sense of anticipation.  As both hands are placed on the back of her right thigh, she feels the lotion covering every inch of this space.  He stops short of her bottom, and repeats the slow process on the left side.  She feels her legs moving ever so slightly further apart, almost as if without volition.

Sensing that he is done with her back, she wonders what she should do next, until she hears more lotion being applied to his hands.  Starting on the outside of her hips he slides his hands under the ties of her bikini, this time extending perhaps two inches under the fabric.  Very slowly he brings his hands together, maintaining the penetration, moving across her bottom toward the inner sides of her leg.  She resists her natural urge to tilt her pelvis upward to greet his hands.  His hands stop just short of the point where different moistures would mix, and then they are gone.

“Shall I continue with the front?”

The answer is clearly yes, and her hands automatically begin to tie back the top of her bikini, but she stops, and decides there is a better way.  Without elevating her torso, she reaches down and places a hand between the blanket and each breast.  She rolls over, barely maintaining her cover, elbows pointing out.  The sun is penetrating in its intensity, but all she can feel is the response of her breasts to her own touch.

He dabs the sweat from her face, and then, using only two fingers on each hand, he begins gently applying the lotion to her forehead, temples, cheeks and chin.  This is a face that he can, and does, dwell on.  Removing her sunglasses and carefully avoiding her eyes, he covers her eyelids, her nose and the supple area around her mouth.  A fleeting, almost imperceptible kiss is extended as his fingers brush against her lips.  He replaces the sunglasses.

Having already covered the arms, he next applies lotion to her long, graceful neck, her shoulders and her collarbone.  She knows this area is one of her great features, and he too appreciates the accent it provides to the character in her face.  Normally, she dresses with high collars to de-emphasize these assets, but today she wants all the attention they deserve.

As his hands work to cover the shoulder area, they frequently bump into her hands, which are still carefully guarding her modesty.  He decides that her arms could use a bit more lotion and in a singular motion he begins at her shoulders and works down her arms.  Quickly his hands are on top of hers, rubbing back and forth along the length of her fingers.  The added pressure on her breasts quickens her breathing.  Her fingers spread apart slightly, allowing her increasingly erect nipples to slide though.  Ever so slightly his hands brush across their extended surface.

As quickly as it began, the stroking of her hands stops, and she reforms her close cover.  The sensation in her breasts does not subside, however.

She next feels his touch on her waist and stomach.  Smooth, flat, but still feminine, it is a part of her body of which she is appropriately proud.  His fingers meet at her belly button and draw away toward her waist.  The bottom of her bikini is just an inch or so below her navel.  He puts lotion on the index finger of his right hand and, starting at the tie on her right hip, he traces a line just under the elastic at her waist until he reaches the left tie.  She wanted him to probe lower, but it was not to be.

His hands return to her stomach and begin working upward across her rib cage.  This time they do not go on top of her hands but instead slide effortlessly underneath.  She holds his hands tightly and together they move in a circular motion.  Her back arches ever so slightly.  After several complete rotations, his touch lightens.  Using only his pointer and middle fingers on each hand, the motion slows and narrows in radius until he is drawing tiny circles around her now fully erect nipples.  Finally, he draws each nipple between his thumb and fore finger, gently squeezing and turning until she lets out a soft moan.  His hands slide away leaving hers in place to try to hold on to the sensation.

As her breathing slows, she feels his hands working up toward her knees along her shins.  She is amazed at his pace.  As she is building her inner fire, he keeps everything in control.  He spends as much time on her lower legs as he did her arms, which seemed to her to occur hours ago.  Delicate massaging of her knees follows, with special attention paid to the tiny dimples on the side.  His hands move firmly from there to her thighs, and she feels her legs part by a few inches. 

Both hands caress her left thigh, stroking back and forth from the knee up to the top.  At the extreme, she feels his little finger of his right hand brush against the fabric of her bikini, and she strains in anticipation of the motion.  The activity is repeated on the right thigh, only this time it is his left hand that wanders too close to the material.

She knows he has applied lotion under every edge of her bikini so far.  She trembles in anticipation, eyes tightly closed, worrying simultaneously that he will continue, or perhaps he might not.  She is not ready for this to end.

She hears the lotion once again squirting into his hand and waits.  But not for long.  The fingers of his right hand reach up under the tie on her right hip.  He very slowly begins to move down her leg, his hand covered by two inches of fabric.  The pace is almost imperceptible.  His fingers only stop when they encounter the first of her neatly trimmed pubic hair.  He withdraws them slightly, but continues down the elastic of her leg.

Deep inside her thigh, he increases the pressure of his fingers.  This causes his thumb outside the material to brush not so lightly across her clitoris.  Her emotions are extreme, but she maintains some semblance of composure.  Her hands clutch at her breasts as the sensations build in waves.

He repeats the motion on the left side.  Incredibly he follows the same pace, the same line, the same finishing touches.  Also incredibly, she does not roll over onto his hand.  She wants those fingers to probe deeper, but she lets him direct the action.

Perhaps she should not have.  He removes his hands from her body, places the top back on the now almost empty sun screen bottle, and whispers to her that she should be adequately protected for a while.  She thanks him quietly, and rolls back over on her stomach.  A second later he is gone.

After a time that could have been minutes or longer, she hears the voice of a small child coming down the beach, ready to play.  She easily reties the strings on her top, sits up, and begins the next phase of her day at the beach.

While she is contentedly digging sand castles, she pauses and wonders if she will need some aloe vera lotion later….