Taken on the Sand

I’m horny. Pete has been teasing me for the entire match. Rubbing his hand on my butt, hugging me tight every good point we managed to snatch from the opposite team. I, for myself, had done what I could to arouse him. Like wiggling my ass at him every time he was up to serve, or casually grazing his crotch when walking by him.

We’ve been beach volleyball partners for a year and since we’ve discovered another common passion — sex — we have something more to look forward to, after every evening league match.

Pete is a wonderful lover. The kind who makes you wonder if the one at home — the one you’ve married — is the right one.

The game ends. As we cheer for another victory, I see in his eyes a different kind of passion. It’s not about the game anymore.

I wonder if tonight he’ll ask me if I need a lift to the nearest metro station, just to be able to steal a kiss from me. A kiss which will become more.

It feels like ages since we’ve made out last. I wonder if he’ll drag me to the backseat of his car and touch my body, slide his fingers inside me while I feel his hardness growing through his trunks. I’ll not resist him. I’ll pull it out, suck it with my eager mouth, get on my all fours on the seat and stick my butt up to invite him in. He’ll slide two fingers deep in my wet pussy, or maybe spank me a little, before that. He loves my firm ass, and I love to be exposed to him, then used.

I’m completely lost in such thoughts while we stretch on the sand, together. The opponent team — a couple in their early thirties — is chatting with Pete while he stretches by my side, but I can’t really focus on what they are saying. I’m completely taken by the desire for my lover. I want him to be mine, now. But the rational part of me knows it’s not possible.

My pussy lips swell and juices pour on my bikini bottom. I fear someone will notice it. Not only our opponents but the other two couples in the nearby court and the two men training in another. Even if it’s late evening, there’s always someone on the courts.

I lie on the sand and stretch my legs and back in the hope to fire up his dirtiest desires. I expose my slender legs, my firm body, my ass he loves to caress and scratch so much. I’m distracting him. When their conversation fades away and the couple moves to their bench, I feel proud of me. Pete is all mine, again.

Suddenly, the lights go off.

“Time to sleep,” someone jokes from the nearby court.

“Or something better,” our opponent jokes from the bench.

I recall only now that I’ve seen the couple kissing on the court, before the match.

We’re still giggling when I feel Pete’s hand on my butt. I continue to stretch my back, pushing up my hips, even more, pretending not to notice his touch, in reality enjoying it. I think my legs are spread a little more than necessary giving my real thoughts away.

“Will you finish to stretch with me?” I ask in the darkness.

People around us are complaining: they turned off the lights too early, today. I don’t care. I can see the shadows of some of them leaving the place, but as my eyes adapt to the darkness, I can also see our opponents. He is sitting on the other wooden bench by the court, just a couple of meters from us, and the girl is standing in front of him, between his spread knees.

They are kissing. Passionately.

My lover’s hand doesn’t stop. Instead, Pete pushes more of it into my butt crack. After all, if they are allowed to make out like that, protected by the darkness, why should we care?

I don’t retract. I arch my back and push my ass on his hand, this time spreading my legs obscenely, demanding his touch on my pussy, just slightly covered by my moist sporty bikini bottom.

Pete chuckles when he finds me that wet, but he says nothing. He knows I must have been excited throughout the entire game. For sure, he feels my swollen pussy, when his fingers set aside the textile and dip into my lips.

I moan when he penetrates me. As much as I hear, the girl not so distant from us is not restraining herself. Why should I?

My hand reaches for his crotch. His cock is rock hard… I want it. Now. I grab it, feel it in my hands, tease and caress its tip through the textile, then pull down Pete’s trunks just to stroke it, spreading the copious precum on the head.

Fuck, I want this cock. Hearing the moans of the nearby couple is making me even hornier. I can’t resist anymore.

I look at them… the dark shadows tell me that the girl has sat astride him, on the bench. They are kissing, and she is rocking her hips back and forth on him. I’m sure they think nobody can see them. Or maybe, they want us to watch… only us, a stranger couple they’ve met only tonight to play a League game.

Apart from them, the courts have gotten empty.

“Fuck me,” I whisper in Pete’s ear. Then I get on my all fours, pull down my panties to expose my ready pussy and wiggle my ass to invite him in.

A spank first, then another. Harder and harder, and I moan like a slut, because I think they can see us, they can see me getting this horny while my man slaps my ass, they can see my resistance faltering. Two fingers suddenly slide between my lips, and I push my ass back to suck them into my pussy. I want them deeper, I want my lover to finger-fuck me harder, to prepare my pussy for his marvelous cock.

I think they, too, must have had horny thoughts for the entire match… they couldn’t resist, as I can’t resist either, now. I beg for more when Pete pulls his fingers out of me. And he provides.

His cock is hard as a rock, his tip pulsating against my entrance, then a single thrust pushes its entire length inside me. I stop breathing.

It’s heaven. I can’t have enough of this dick inside me.

The girl in front of me has turned around on her boyfriend and is now riding his cock while looking at me. Her eyes are nothing but imperceptible glitters in the night… and yet I feel them on me, on my every detail.

I can’t stop moaning, as Pete fucks me from behind, slamming his cock deep inside me, hitting my clit with his balls each thrust, making me shiver and wriggle as I look at the other couple.

I imagine the girl looking at us, desiring to be in my place, violated by my lover’s cock from behind.

The moment is so powerful that we all cum at the same time. The man pushing his hips up, filling his girlfriend as she wriggles on his hardness, accepting his seed. Me, pushing my ass against Pete’s meat, covered in goosebumps while I squeeze every drop of cum from his cock.

I collapse on the sand, catching my breath. When I finally find the strength to sit on the sand, I realize the couple is leaving the court.

“Till the next match,” they say.

When is it going to happen?

I wonder. I can’t restrain my imagination from running wild.

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