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Giving Myself to a Sexy Local

A vacation to remember

By Elle A. WildPublished 3 years ago 11 min read
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This is a work of erotic fiction intended for adults 18+.

The night is dark but warm with a cool breeze that caresses my skin as I sit beside the pool. The lights are off in all but my assigned section of the vacation home.

It’s close to midnight and everyone’s asleep or close to it — my best friend, her parents, her brother and his girlfriend. It’s just me up and waiting.

I’m only two days into this annual vacation but it’s already everything I needed. I forget each year how much of a relief it is to turn off my emails and check out of being in charge of everything. To just be a woman on a beach with a drink in my hand.

That was exactly what I did on my first evening here. I made a drink for myself in the kitchen, followed the path down to the stairs that led down to the beach, and drank as I watched the sunset over calm blue waters.

I felt like I was able to breathe for the first time in months.

It was the next day, however, that everything began…

We’d gone to take out jet skis, and I, being so used to carrying only a card, showed up at the beach without cash. No one had enough to cover me and my intended jet ski, so I said it was fine — I’d just sit on the beach and tan while my friend, her brother, and his girlfriend went out on the water.

But the man running the jet ski stand just wouldn’t let that happen. He’d looked at me with his dark brown eyes, kind and open, and he said to take a jet ski. He knew, he said, that I’d come back with cash the next day. I tried to turn this down, but it only made him more insistent.

So I took the jet ski, and out on the water I felt more alive than I had in a very long time.

It’s so easy to forget yourself amid the mundane realities of adult life. But being out on the ocean with the wind whipping my hair and water rushing to catch me as I sped up or slowed down — I was reminded then that I was this living, breathing being.

When I returned the jet ski, I thanked Laurent, the man running the shop. It was just what I needed, and he laughed and said he’d known that already. I promised I would be back early the next day.

And I was. I got a car by myself down to the particular beach where his stand was located, and I brought cash plus a tip that he refused.

Laurent suggested that if I wanted to stay awhile, the drinks from the stand little ways down the beach were delicious but dangerous. So I got my delicious, dangerous drink, and then I sat on a chair near the jet ski stand, reading one of my romance novels.

By the time I’d made it to the first sexy scene in my book, I was already buzzed and imagining the love interest as Laurent complete with his dark skin, kind eyes, and full lips that I expected would feel quite good anywhere on my body. His strong forearms, tall frame, and French-influenced accent.

Meanwhile, I felt very aware as I sat there, my pussy growing wet as I read, that the man I was really thinking about while reading was just yards away behind me.

I wondered if he was thinking about me at all…

Upon finishing my drink, I decided I had to talk to him. I asked him what it was like to live in St. Martin, what it was like to run the jet ski stand, what he did in his spare time.

And more than once, I caught myself shamelessly taking in his beautiful body with my eyes. When I started letting my fingers glance off his arm now and then, he started letting himself look at me too.

Unfortunately, however, I’d agreed to a late lunch with my friend’s family, so I had to leave my sexy Laurent there. But as a take-charge lady often does, I asked for his phone, and I typed in my number.

I told him to text me if he wanted to spend some time together. He said he would.

I got back to the rented house just starting to sober up, wondering if Laurent thought I was a silly American girl who couldn’t hold her liquor. But the truth was, I was feeling like a silly American girl, and it felt kind of good — not to have to be the woman who has everything under control.

I slipped into the shower, holding onto the silly feelings of wanting to touch this man I hardly knew, lathering myself up and pretending my hands were his.

I caressed my nipples, my eyes closed, and brought my other hand to my pussy to start to rub myself.

When my phone buzzed though, I had to check it. Habit. Or perhaps I just knew... It was Laurent, and he asked me what I was doing. So I told him.

I’m in the shower, I typed. And I’m touching myself, thinking about naughty things.

Oh, he said back. That’s very sexy. What kind of naughty things?

Where I’d let you put your hands if you were here, I said. And that sexy mouth of yours.

Hm, where would you let me put them?

Anywhere you wanted, I said.

He proceeded to tell me in long, generous paragraphs what he would do with his fingers and his mouth. How he’d worship my breasts, explore my pussy, revel in the taste of me.

I came hard with my own fingers inside me as I read his texts, and of course, I told him so.

I’m glad, he said. I wish I could have made you cum with my body instead of my words.

I do too, I said. Maybe later…?

If you will let me.

I spent the subsequent late lunch with my face flushed as I thought about Laurent and all those things he said he would do to me. It was hard to focus on the meal or the conversation, although the food really was delicious.

Back at the house, I took a long-overdue nap and somehow woke up in time for the dinner prepared for us by the on-site chef. It felt silly to effectively eat two meals back-to-back, but I suppose that’s the sort of thing vacations are for. Indulgences. Things you wouldn’t do back home.

It was dark by the time Laurent texted me: Do you still want to see me?

I was immediately aflutter, my fingers tingling, my pussy warming. Of course, I said.

I told him where the house was and he said he could walk there along the beach. He’d be there around midnight. This was, I realized, not the smartest of ideas, but I wasn’t going to worry about it. I just wasn’t.

So I hung out with my friend, her brother, and his girlfriend; had a glass of wine; and waited. Finally, everyone else went to bed, leaving me alone in a darkness that seemed to sizzle with electricity.

Now, I let my feet play in the water of the pool as I sit on the side and enjoy the way the ripples sound the currents feel between my toes. My phone buzzes and I check it immediately.

I am almost there, the text from Laurent says. Five minutes. Meet me by the water?

I jump up and grab the large beach towel from beside me. I’m dressed only in my bikini and the sheer cover-up that I let hang off me unfastened.

I slide on my sandals and make my way to the path that leads down the hill behind the house and to the wooden stairs down to the water.

My heart races as my feet take the stairs, and I step down onto the sand, surrounded by nothing but darkness. There are no lights down here. Just the small dots of boats somewhere in the distance.

My hearing is well-tuned though from the hour or so I’d spent alone outside, and it isn’t long before I hear footsteps in the sand. I suddenly hope I won’t regret all of this as soon as I see him.

But then I do see him, first just movement in the darkness, then him, and when he sees me, his smile. His smile makes me forget any thoughts of regret.

He doesn’t say anything. He approaches, tosses a blanket onto the platform of the wooden stairs.

Then his strong hands are on my waist and he brings his mouth to mine. His lips are so full they overwhelm mine — even my mouth is at his mercy, and I don’t mind the slightest bit.

Let him take what he wants how he wants it. It feels good to let go.

He slips his tongue into my mouth and I moan thinking about that tongue and those lips on my pussy. He must be reading my mind or my body perhaps because he lifts me up to sit me on the wooden platform.

He lays out both the towel and the blanket, his eyes somehow on me as he does, and then he picks me up and places me on top of the makeshift bedding.

Moving between my legs, he urges me onto my back, and I look up at the bright stars above as he pulls off my bikini bottom.

My legs are over his shoulders and his mouth finds my pussy. He whispers something that sounds appreciative as he goes in, but I don’t really hear it.

I just feel those warm full lips against my bare pussy as he seems to take me fully into his mouth. I moan when his tongue starts to trace shapes between my folds, around my entrance, up and over my clit.

I squeeze his face between my thighs and rock my hips as his tongue becomes more insistent and his sucking faster. His vocalizations are like that of a starving man, and my own moans become louder as my pussy starts its tremors and my legs shake.

He grips my ass firmly in his hand and holds me against his face as my moans become cries, and tremors become full out-of-control spasms that wrack my body as I cum.

His tongue keeps me going and going and going.

When I finally return to a state of relaxation, a soft sigh escaping my lips, he draws back just far enough to take something out of his pocket.

I lift my head to watch as he undoes and drops his shorts and releases his cock, dark and erect, the head shiny with precum. We make eye contact and I bite my lip, and then he rips open the condom and puts it on quickly, hurried.

I’m glad he does — that he took the initiative with the condom because I wouldn’t have made him. I would have let him fuck me bareback and cum inside me if he wanted to. Back at home, no, but here where everything feels like a fantasy? Oh yes.

I may have cum already but I don’t want him inside me any less, and his cock looks to me like a damn godsend — hard, striking, curved just right, big enough to stretch me.

“Fuck me,” I whisper. He closes the distance he’d left between us, presses his cock against my sensitive pussy, and slowly slides it in as I release an open-mouthed moan.

He’s slow at first, thrusting in a rhythm that feels like waves on the ocean.

But I can’t help it — I begin to move too, pressing against him, pulling him into me. Each time he slides in or out the curve of his cock means that my g-spot is massaged perfectly, and I want more of that, faster.

He groans and grunts as he fucks me, and they’re the hottest sounds I think I’ve ever heard. I love how much he loves taking me.

I feel my pussy tightening, dancing with little jolts, wetter than before, and ready to cum again. I’m moaning, and he puts one hand underneath my head to lift it up to look at him.

“Look at me while you cum,” he whispers, and I feel myself sliding toward the edge.

My mouth opens in an ‘oh,’ as I lock in on those dark eyes and the hunger in them, and then I’m cumming again, feeling myself squeezing around his cock.

“Yes,” he says, and his body tenses, his rhythm changing as he moves toward his own edge.

The first long thrust comes and I feel himself release into me, and then again, and again. I don’t look away as he cums, so he can see me seeing him. The look on his face is incredible — it makes me want to do all of this over again.

He sighs and then rests his head on my chest a moment before sliding out and taking care of the condom. Then he pulls himself up onto the blanket and lies back beside me.

“That was incredible,” I say.


We’re quiet for a few minutes as we look up at the stars and listen to the water moving out there in the darkness.

“How many days will you be here?” he asks me.

“Four more.”

“Can I come see you again?” he asks.

“God, I sure as hell hope so.”


For more erotic stories, check out my website!


About the Creator

Elle A. Wild

Elle A. Wild is a city girl who loves writing character-centric sexy stories that surprise even herself.

Elle writes from a perspective of female empowerment and pleasure, and if you’re not into that, well, she’s probably not for you.

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