Gina couldn’t believe she was ass to sand with a stranger.
Mr. Handsome: a blond, beautiful, stranger. Built like a god.
A few hours before, she was lost, willing to surrender on all she had wanted (and expected) from vacation, trading expectations for time in her room with a bottle of rum and her fingers. Now, finally, Gina had found the paradise she’d flown from the mainland to find.
Gina was sprawled in the sand, in a hidden alcove on the shore, with tall rocks jutting up and around them as waves foamed and tumbled behind. She climbed on Mr. Handsome, wondering how hidden their alcove really was, knowing but choosing to ignore that it wasn’t especially hidden at all. Just over the rocks lay the snack shack and bar, plus who-knew-how-many vacationers. One or many could (and probably would) meander to the ridge, then look down at what Gina and Mr. Handsome were about to start doing in the sand.
She had never had sex on the beach, and had always hated the thought. The beach was uncomfortable, public, and risky. Gina loved her annual getaways, but the coast was for walking, fucking was for closed doors and cabanas. Yet, Gina was soaking, seconds from getting fucked by the sea for her first time. Even when planning her holiday, and hoping to get fucked raw while away, mind movies played only in her room, or inside the rooms of temporary lovers — never on the beach.
Mr. Handsome grabbed Gina by her sides as she positioned her body against his, pressing her wet pussy to his white linen pants, lightly grinding as she took a final look around them to make sure they weren’t being watched.
She kissed him, sweetly and soft, then long and hard before slithering down his body and grabbing his white pants from either side. She tugged them down, over his knees and past his ankles, then threw the pants in a pile as far as she could, kissing Mr. Handsome’s dick before reaching up to plant her lips again on his mouth.
He kissed her back. She could feel him tasting her, smell his desire. Knowing he wanted her made Gina want him more. She felt like a filthy whore, on all fours in the sand, exposed on the shore for whoever might happen to see their show. She could feel her leaking cunt gumming her inner thighs, sticking to her skin in a sun-kissed glaze.
Mr. Handsome had sand on his cock. Gina cleaned it so she wouldn’t get any in her mouth, stuck her ass in the air, then slipped his dick tip between her lips and slid down his long shaft to the base as he moaned.
Gina had left the mainland to escape reality, and hit the island one nerve short of a breakdown. Johnson & Moony was a massive firm, filled with some of the city’s most successful CPAs. Tax season was worse than awful, and always left her feeling half-dead by mid-April. This was the worst year she had ever had, and not just because Johnson, Moony, and all seven of the other sycophant partners were all raging egomaniacs and total fucking cocks.
Gina had a tradition. Each year during the first week of May, when the beaches were still reasonably slow because vacation season hadn’t quite started, but not yet so empty that Gina would have to work for fun, she went to the island for four days (avoiding the more expensive weekends) where she did nothing but stare at the rolling ocean, stay drunk more than sober, and fuck her brains out with a procession of strangers until she felt put back together enough to return the third week of the month, refreshed and ready to do it all over again, not taking another break until the same eight days at the end of September she took each year with her sister, Samantha.
Gina’s job at Johnson & Moony was to be creative. This was difficult in what was mostly a noncreative environment. Quality work was dependent on Gina staying sharp and imaginative. Vacation was supposed to put her back together so she could do her job. She was supposed to return with an improved life perspective, more motivated. She was supposed to come home sharper, less invested in small office conflicts or trivial workplace tensions.
This worked because Gina was fucked hard and often while on what she referred to as “Happy Island.” It was impossible for a hot blonde like her — with a mile of legs and perfect tits — to feel alone on a luxury island. Gina had the stress rattled from her body. Usually, it stayed away for months. If it wasn’t for Mr. Handsome, she probably would have gone home more stressed than when she came.
This trip was her fifth, and most necessary.
After not having a steady boyfriend since college — work was too demanding — Gina had finally found Jon, a guy she allowed herself to fall for, despite her best judgment, and warnings from Samantha, who thought he seemed “like the kind of guy who always has his own agenda.” Just when Gina was ready to get serious with Jon, she entered his apartment without knocking. He said he was sick. She wanted to surprise him with chicken soup, and nothing under her trench coat. He had his dick in some bitch’s mouth. That was the third week of March.
She had thrown his key at the him, but it was poorly aimed and hit the bitch in her forehead. It hadn’t even ricocheted to the floor before Gina stormed from his apartment. She buried herself in taxes, and ignored each of Jon’s apologetic calls — there was no I’m sorry for dropping a load in another woman’s mouth — until one the day before she left. She answered that one with a three-word text:
FUCK YOU JON.
Now Gina was on her favorite island, same as every year, this time with her body displayed on all fours in the sand, with a stranger’s cock in her mouth, and people likely watching from above.
Mr. Handsome’s cock was large before it was hard, a fat hog in her hand. She was surprised by how hot it felt to stroke her good-looking stranger from large to giant, from semi-hard to a long pipe of thick meat, throbbing in her mouth. Juice poured from her open hole as her knees spread out before her and she bowed into his lap. He looked down at Gina, admiring her bobbing as she looked up at him with big, blue eyes.
She pumped her fist from the bottom of his cock as she flicked her tongue at the top. Gina was terrific at sucking dick, she could get most men to cum in less than a minute when trying. She was hot as fuck with her face buried in Mr. Handsome’s lap, and people maybe watching from above. She didn’t want him to cum, so she teased her beach fuck more than normal, flicking his head, lapping his shaft, and lowering her lips to the base until his dicktip was tickling the back of her throat.
To her delight, Mr. Handsome turned into an animal.
He growled as he took his cock from Gina’s mouth. Grunting, he scrambled to her other side, tossed her down to the sand, grabbed her inner thighs, pushed down so Gina’s knees were parallel to her shoulders and, buried his dick, balls deep, inside her as she thrust her ankles in the air.
Gina’s head was back in the sand, chin to sky, open eyes seeing the first few onlookers gather behind her. Mr. Handsome had only just entered, but Gina knew that even after coming to the island five years in a row, and sharing many, many encounters (some of her best) she was about to get fucked better than ever before.
Gina closed her eyes and sank into her pleasure.
He pushed harder on her legs, found his rhythm, and thrusted into Gina until she could no longer take it. She had to look up. Her eyes flitted open, ignoring onlookers as she lifted her head, though she couldn’t ignore how much it had grown in the few minutes since Mr. Handsome had started to pump her.
Gina stared into his eyes, loving his blond locks, 5 o’clock shadow, gritted teeth, and determined snarl as he hurled her into her first orgasm, pounding through her body like waves on the shore.
Gina’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. She tried to stop her head from swimming long enough to focus on the pleasure, inhale it now and use her memories later.
These were the memories she flew here to get.
Coming to the island forced Gina to unplug. It was difficult, leaving modern life behind. She brought her phone to grab a cab once back on the mainland, and a Kindle for reading smut — on the plane, getting herself wet, in her room, with fingers inside her, or at the bar while getting toasty, prepping her body for entry — but no laptop or work of any sort.
Gina wanted to forget her off-island life, especially anything having to do with Jon, but she couldn’t. Without distraction, her old life buzzed loudly between her ears, and thought of Jon haunted her every lonely moment. After three days and nights, Gina felt close to surrender. While not exactly miserable, her trip was unfulfilling.
The island seemed less populated than usual, and most of the people there seemed to be traveling with a partner, or family. Gina was used to hitting the island, displaying her goods, and getting to choose from a long line of men willing to rail her right into her happy place. This time, Gina’s fingers were the only things that had made it inside her (she never brought dildos because she was scared she’d get searched in airport security).
If Gina hadn’t found Mr. Handsome — about a half-hour before she was swallowing his cock — she would’ve left the island unsatisfied. Instead, she was putting on a show, and experiencing what was already the best fuck of her life.
Gina screamed, heedless of whoever might be watching behind her. Mr. Handsome’s dick should’ve felt like too much, the way he was bashing his Coke can cock into her tight cunt, with her legs in the air as he clutched at her ass, hands slithering up under her body.
He growled, grunted, and fucked her with fury.
She looked up, lifting her head to stare between her legs, watching Mr. Handsome plunge her with his gleaming dick.
Gina was folded like a pretzel, legs askew and jutting to either side. Her mystery lover had his hand pressed down on her shoulder, holding her to the shore. Sand painted her skin, shoulders, knees, feet, thighs — everywhere but her pussy. It was in his hair, shoulders, legs, and gorgeous body. Even in the salt and pepper sprinkling his unshaven face.
Waves pounded the sand behind them. Gina turned her eyes to the rolling ocean, hoping it might help draw her mind from the gathering crowd. She could hear their loud whispers, and could almost feel their pointing. Someone — probably a new arrival — loudly gasped, giving Gina a start.
She reached down between her legs to finger herself as Mr. Handsome fucked her. The tide was coming in, now tickling their bodies. Gina found her button and pinched it as water rushed under her ass. She cried out, and her cry was echoed somewhere above.
Mr. Handsome grunted harder and pushed himself deeper into her. Sand did nothing to slow him, Gina wondered what he would be like in her room or his. Could he be any more of an animal behind closed doors than he was in public?
With her left hand Gina clung to Mr. Handsome’s forearm, pulling him tighter against her body, spreading her lips to improve his entry, kneading her hood and button.
Another wave crashed beneath them. Mr. Handsome made another loud grunt as Gina came hard again, sinking into her thoughts as she shuddered.
She had been ready to go from the moment she arrived on the island, looking for immediate relief. It didn’t happen that first night — other than what she gave herself in the shower, then again in bed — so she spent her second on the prowl. She saw happy couples wherever she looked, and her loneliness twisted to sorrow.
It had never taken long for pleasure to find her. Gina had ordered a second drink exactly once before getting approached. This trip, she was approached by no one. Gina wasn’t shy, so she started making approaches herself, but every man was either spoken for, an asshole, or both. Three offered to give Gina what she needed, providing they could do so quickly, and without their significant others knowing. Gina was many things — like apparently a girl who gets hammered on the sand in front of a crowd on vacation — but a man-stealing whore wasn’t one.
It was bad enough not getting laid when at home and overworked, but a crime after spending thousands of dollars to fly hundreds of miles over a sparkling sea to an island where a pussy frothy with cum was a near guarantee.
Gina was bitterly finishing her final drink at the bar, ready to fuck herself into a mad, sloshing frenzy in her room, until she saw Mr. Handsome and everything changed.
Now the man she was lucky enough to find at the final moment was pressing down on her legs and pushing her into the sand — she didn’t think he could press any harder — and had withdrawn from his relentless assault. Mr. Handsome was now slowly rocking in and out of Gina’s hole, drawing his body back so he was pulling his dick nearly to the tip, then slowly pushing himself back to the base, taking them skin to skin and making her shudder.
Gina was soaking, so every plunge and withdrawal sounded loud, only slightly muffled by the rolling sea and the whispering spectators multiplying on the rocks above.
Mr. Handsome pulled out too far and his cock plopped out of Gina. He grunted, and she whimpered. He fumbled to get it back inside her, did, then lost control to Gina as she shifted positions. She flipped to the sand, planted her elbows into warm grit, and raised her sand-speckled ass in the air, growling and snarling, looking up and truly seeing the staring crowd for the first time — now at least two dozen strong — as she offered her cunt to the well-built stranger, standing like the statue of David behind her.
Mr. Handsome grabbed Gina by the sides, stuffed his dick into her soaking hole with a deeply satisfied moan, spread his legs so he wasn’t standing too high over her body, and thrust down as she made many heaving whimpers, body low and breasts dragging lines in the sand.
She turned from the crowd and back to herself getting pounded, feeling juices pour out from her pussy to butter her thighs. Mr. Handsome squeezed her ass, and slapped it, wresting it harder between his fingers. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved Gina down even harder so that her tits mashed the sand and her chin brushed it while she struggled to raise her head.
For many lost moments, Gina couldn’t fuck Mr. Handsome back like she wanted. She stayed sprawled in the sand, taking it. His thrusts were too strong for struggle, the weight of delight too heavy to drop. She didn’t want to just fuck him, she wanted to sink into the hedonistic lotus-munching pleasure of it all. So she let him fuck her like he wanted. Harder than anyone ever had — there’d been plenty, and hard was her preference — in the open, on the shore, or in front of a crowd.
Gina cursed as she came, groaning “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck … ” over and over like she was broken.
Another wave rolled in to soak the sand beneath them.
Gina started fucking him back, bucking her ass hard against Mr. Handsome as she reached down and started to diddle her clit.
He seemed to take her motion as a challenge, and fucked Gina harder as she bucked. He held her left arm by the shoulder, clasping his right into her open palm. She was his toy. Nothing more. As he sent her into yet another orgasm, screaming and rattling for the curious to hear and see, she wondered how long he had wanted to fuck a woman on the sand, and if he ever had — Mr. Handsome clearly had not with the girl from the bar. Gina wondered if he would have abused another hole as much as he was tearing into hers, or if any other girl could have enjoyed it as much as she was.
I’m so glad I saw him in the bar.
Mr. Handsome was fighting with a blonde woman when Gina first saw him. Their argument had been growing progressively louder for five minutes, then 10, until their quarrel climaxed and the blonde tossed what looked like a margarita into his face. Gina set her empty glass on the bar and approached the stranger, as she felt a blushing between her legs.
“That has to sting,” she said, handing Mr. Handsome a cocktail napkin. He took it, smiling.
Gina wanted to know what the fight was about, hoping that there was a way for her to get what it seemed like the blonde wouldn’t be. She wasn’t a man-stealing whore, but if Mr. Handsome wasn’t hers, and if he had a cock even remotely the size that his god’s frame promised (and could use it half as well as his smile suggested), Gina was willing to bend however she needed to get it.
Their fight was about having sex on the beach. He had wanted to for a while, and had been asking her forever. They lived on the beach back home, but the blonde wasn’t willing to fuck her man on the sand because “people would see them.” Mr. Handsome suggested that they take a vacation where no one would, or at least no one they knew. She said yes there, but got cold feet here, and made him angry.
He said he didn’t give a shit what people thought, especially if he wasn’t ever going to see them again. And he wasn’t worried about getting into trouble because, “Christ, people fuck on the beach all the time, it’s human nature!”
Her last words before leaving the bar: “Fine, if you find a slut to fuck you in front of everyone, great, enjoy it, get it out of your system, and never bother me about it again!” Gina didn’t know him, or the blonde, but she didn’t think that was really something a girl would mean, even if she said it. Mr. Handsome spent the following half hour getting Gina drunker than she was, quickly convincing her that his girlfriend was an exception to many rules, that being one.
Before Mr. Handsome, Gina couldn’t have imagined herself fucking on exhibition. Mid-fuck, she couldn’t wait to do it again.
She loved the feel of the sand plastering her body. She loved it on her ass and thighs, dipping between her cheeks and down into her crack. She loved the feeling inside her cunt. So dirty with everyone watching, it was easy to forget the grit.
Mr. Handsome kept grabbing handfuls of Gina’s ass and yanking her body toward him, kneading and squeezing. Her tongue had fallen from her mouth and it hung there, making Gina feel more like a dog than she already did. She yelped and moaned, turning her eyes to the crowd.
Then Gina saw her — the woman who had thrown a drink in Mr. Handsome’s face, the woman he swore would be perfectly fine with whichever of Gina’s holes her man wanted to use, as long as it was on the beach and not in a room.
Gina was unbelieving, but being horny as fuck turned her willing to listen. He said they fought all the time. It was what made them tick. As long as he returned to his girlfriend when he finished with Gina, she would be fine. And probably aroused.
They didn’t stay at the bar long. Another drink had her smashed, and smashed had her practically prancing down to the sand.
She writhed in paradise, sinking deeper into the sand, laughing out loud as she pictured herself like a mermaid on shore, getting fucked by a human and feeling her legs for the first time. She laughed so hard, Mr. Handsome laughed, too. His dick trembled inside her.
She shifted position through their pause, flipping to her back, ass to the sand, turning her gaze from onlookers, probably up to three dozen, girlfriend up front.
Gina looked down at her sand-painted body, nipples hard and shaking grit from her skin as she trembled. She lifted her ass toward Mr. Handsome, raising her legs so he could wedge deep inside her. Again, he pushed on her inner thighs, buried his dick, and stabbed into her center.
Gina bit her lip to muffle a scream, not minding that the crowd was witness to her rapture, but not wanting them to have the pleasure of hearing it.
She whimpered and moaned as Mr. Handsome thrust in and out of her soaking hole, quickly driving himself toward orgasm. He was seconds away, his body shaking and grunting.
He pulled his dick out of her with a heaving moan. The, holding it by the base, he grunted, twitched, and released. Feeling a sudden need to be even dirtier than she was, fueled by the crowd, Gina lurched up from the sand toward Mr. Handsome’s cock, opened her mouth and unrolled her tongue.
Cum spurted from his tip in long globs, landing in sticky, stringy puddles across her sand covered body. He continued to milk his shaft, pumping as Gina squeezed her tits, wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, and pulled herself against him. She flicked her tongue at Mr. Handsome’s dribbling dick, catching large globs of cream and lapping them into her mouth.
He lifted Gina from the sand and kissed her hard (she was certain for show) as a round of applause erupted around them.
She pushed herself into the kiss, like everything else, tasting him as he flicked his tongue against hers, caressing her body. He pushed Gina back to the sand, letting his body command hers. She fell back, stealing kisses as he swabbed her with his large palms.
Gina looked up to see the blonde. “Come on,” she said, standing over the sand-covered lovers. “Let’s get you both to our room.”