On the beach

The last week, I've been vacationing with Marie and her family. The family owns a cottage on Lake Michigan, and Marie has many fond memories of growing up there. So for some time she has wanted to show me the places she so loved growing up, and she has wanted me to meet her family. This seemed to be the perfect time.

Her parents are both dead, and her brothers weren't there this week because of their schedules; but her sister was there -- let me call her Cuñada -- along with Cuñada's husband and teenaged son, one of her son's friends (emphatically not a girlfriend, I was told), and a family friend of Cuñada's that acted for all the world like Boyfriend 4. I'll call this friend Brian, if I need to talk about him.

Actually I found myself wondering about Brian. He acted like an adult authority to Cuñada's son and his friend, much as if he were an auxiliary parent. On the other hand his orders were often not very smart, and half the time Cuñada directly undercut him. He addressed Cuñada with endearments when her husband wasn't there ("dear" or "darling" or something conventional like that) and at least once I saw him pat her knee affectionately. So is he her lover? Is this really a Boyfriend-4 situation? I asked Marie one afternoon as we strolled along the beach. She said she had the same questions but had never asked her sister directly. She sure didn't rule it out, though she did allow for at least one other possibility -- namely that Brian might want a relationship with Cuñada, but not have one. Yet.

Cuñada is a big, loud, friendly, outgoing woman. She was the chief organizer of the week, and clearly the boss. She was also very welcoming. What she told Marie was that she was glad of the chance to tease Marie about having a boyfriend, because I am quite literally the first boyfriend Marie has ever brought home to meet her family in all her 55 years. What she told me, in addition, is that she is delighted Marie is so happy. Up till now Marie had been happy plenty of times, of course -- but all her normal range of emotions were like an overlay on a bedrock of something that was not happiness. Now she still has the normal range of emotions, but they are an overlay on top of profound Joy. Apparently there really is something to the old cliché that getting laid improves your mood. Who knew?

And there was plenty of sex this week. Marie and I were in the same bedroom (of course) and spent every night holding each other, fondling each other .... The night I arrived we were both exhausted from travel and I wasn't about to get hard, but I fondled Marie to a long string of rolling orgasms that she had been sure she was too tired for. Then we woke about 3:30 in the morning and fucked properly before finally falling back asleep till the morning coffee. Cuñada teased both of us because she had the bedroom next to ours and the cottage wasn't built to be soundproof. Marie insisted, "But I was biting my hand hard to stifle myself so I'd be quiet!" Cuñada answered, "Mi hermana, if that's what you call quiet ... well, let me just say you've never tried to have sex when you've got small children in the house." Marie and I heard a lot on this theme over the week.

A week or two before this trip I saw my doctor and got my first-ever prescription for viagra. After years of progressively rarer and softer erections, I figured it was time. And so Tuesday afternoon, when we had some time and could plan half an hour ahead, we decided to try it. The results were remarkable. I never actually came, but I stayed hard for longer than I have in many, many years -- probably the better part of an hour. Marie, who has usually made do (very happily) with my fingers and tongue, was beside herself. Since I had plenty of time, I varied angle, depth, and tempo; she said afterwards she had had no idea how different each different angle inside her was going to feel. She was exhausted and giddy. I've often said that women are at their most beautiful lying back sweaty and flushed, with their hair a tousled mess. By that measure, Marie was very beautiful that afternoon.

Later that evening, after dinner, she and I decided to walk down to the beach. It was dark but warm, and we took a blanket to sit on. So we sat in the warm night and looked at the stars. After a while we lay back. Then we started kissing. I began to stroke her hair, ... her ears, ... her neck, ... her throat, ... her breasts. My hands slid down her sides and pulled up her loose sun dress. She had no panties for me to pull aside, and she was very wet. We were completely alone, so I massaged, and prodded, and opened, and rubbed until Marie was gasping and jerking and trying not to yell. And then ....

I checked again. We were completely alone. So I slipped off my own pants and slid inside her. It was the afternoon all over again. But we were on the beach, in the open air. Isn't this what teenagers do, fuck on the beach? It was warm and close and exciting. Maybe tonight I could come? I got closer ....

Completely alone? Well no, in fact. There were voices, and a light. Were they coming our way? Yes! Had they seen us? No way to tell. I slid out of Marie and lay on top of her, as still as I could manage. The voices and the light got closer to us, and closer still. We lay quietly, almost holding our breaths. And then we saw them, two teenaged girls walking along nonchalantly, talking casually about their own concerns, reading their cell phones while also using them as flashlights to find the way. They passed ten, maybe five yards to one side of us, giving not the slightest indication that they ever saw us. We waited till they were well out of sight and out of earshot before we carefully pulled ourselves together and found our way giggling back to the cottage. 

Hey, another first. Fifty-four years old and I've finally had sex on the beach!

What else did we do this week? We watched fireworks, we cooked, we barbecued. Teenaged son had a birthday so we all got cake. We swam in the lake, strolled through the woods, visited the local tourist attractions. I read to Marie and she showed me old family photos. We talked and hung out. It was relaxing and a lot of fun. Life on the beach.

I also found out a few days later that she wrote a poem there about some of our discussions, but somehow I never got around to posting it until 2022. You can find it here: Hosea's Blog: Roads not taken (hoseasblog.blogspot.com). 

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