David pressed the air conditioning button as the SUV advanced along the coastal road. Elena hummed a catchy melody in the passenger seat; her song blended with the distant murmur of the sea that was beginning to appear behind the curves. The red fabric of her bikini peeked out from the top of the shirt she had put on for the trip, and David couldn't help but glance at the prominence of those soft breasts that fascinated him so much, nor the even more generous prominence of a backside that filled the seat. He had planned this excursion with the intention of breaking the routine of being engaged, but he carried a hidden spark of mischief that made his stomach tingle.
He parked next to the stone wall bordering the beach, picked up the portable cooler, and winked at Elena as she stretched, raising her arms to catch the morning sun. The heat was dry, the sky cloudless, and the sand looked golden and nearly deserted. As they got out of the vehicle, the sea breeze whipped against his shirt, and Elena, with a giggle, shed the shorts covering her bikini. The intense red of the fabric stood out against her Canadian skin, already tanned from a few days prior; the triangles of the bra barely contained her breasts while the thong sank between the two round hemispheres of her rear, making it look even more voluminous.
"You're going to stir up some passions," David warned her, already enjoying the reaction he sensed from the first bathers starting to settle nearby.
"You bought me this bikini yourself, darling," she replied, shrugging with theatrical innocence. She set the umbrella into the sand and settled onto the towel, unaware that the score for that day had already been written, and that he was to become both the director and the spectator.
They spent the first hour in that sway of those who enjoy a comfortable life: quick dips, sips of mojito that David prepared with crushed ice from the cooler, muffled laughter when the waves tugged at Elena and she emerged dripping, her hips trembling as she found her balance. At approximately noon, when the sun beat down with force, the stranger appeared: tall, dark skin, dark hair slicked back, sunglasses reflecting the sea. He carried a narrow board under his arm and a tan that spoke of entire days spent on the coast.
David noticed him first; a surge of adrenaline stirred his gut. Their eyes met; the man smiled slowly and stopped in front of the umbrella.
"Do you mind if I set up here?" he asked with a local accent. "There are too many jellyfish by the rocks today."
"Go ahead," David replied before Elena could formulate an objection. He felt the pocket of his shirt, found the tube of sunscreen, and with a sympathetic lamb's smile, held it out to the stranger. "Here, use some if you like. My fiancée prefers not to get her hands messy with the sand."
Elena looked away, visibly uncomfortable, but the stranger accepted the tube and thanked him with a gesture that seemed custom-made to unsettle her: he lowered his glasses, fixed his eyes on her, and said:
"A word of advice: the back first. That bright red accentuates the burn, doesn't it?" He smiled crookedly. "May I?"
Elena felt a lump in her throat. She looked at David for help, but he raised his eyebrows, as if inviting her to enjoy the joke. There was more than a joke; a dense heat ran through his chest: the desire to see her touched by another, the anxiety mixed with jealousy that he knew how to transform into pleasure if he dared to follow the game.
"Alright… just for a moment," Elena murmured, lowering her head. She settled face down on the towel. Her buttocks rose, two generous curves that sank the thong into an appetizing crease. The stranger knelt beside her, poured cream into his palm, and began to spread it over her shoulders with slow movements. Elena pressed her lips together, conscious of every finger that delved down the line of her lower back; when he reached her waist, the man paused, admired the view, and without hiding his intent, slid his thumb along the contour of the bikini.
"Are you sure I should let it pass?" he inquired in a low voice, but loud enough for David to hear.
David nodded before Elena could protest. He felt his fly, his heart thumping. "Go on, just be careful," he ordered, and his voice sounded hoarse, almost unrecognizable.
The stranger distributed more cream over the glutes and took advantage of the moisture to massage them firmly. Elena exhaled; the sensation was so indecently pleasant that her face burned against the towel. She didn't want to enjoy it, but the rhythmic pressure of those hands induced her to separate her thighs just a few millimeters. Those millimeters were enough for the tip of a finger to graze the damp fabric of the bikini, and she shivered at the height of her spine, shaken by a current that went straight to her neck.
David sat up, walked toward them, and knelt in front of his future wife. He stroked her chin, lifted her face toward him, and whispered:
"Do you want him to stop?"
Elena watched him for an eternal second; her pulse jumped in her temples. She pressed her lips together and shook her head just once, barely perceptible. It was the answer he craved; the key that opened the door. The handsome stranger exchanged a look with David, like one receiving approval, and settled his body over Elena. The man pulled the towel from her feet, spread it to the side, and asked her to turn halfway; thus the area remained veiled in the shadows cast by the umbrella, although the naked trunks on the sand allowed enough of a glimpse for the spectator who wished to see.
With the skill of one possessing the inventiveness of urgent desire, the stranger shifted Elena's thong toward one of her hips, shrinking the fabric until it was practically inside the cleft. Elena whimpered, ashamed: her vulva stung from the sea salt, and the thought of being watched in such a state made her contract; but that same adrenalized contraction increased the moisture between her folds. The man raked her blonde hair, kneaded the labia majora, and slid two fingers in to check that, indeed, lubrication was abundant. He waited until she breathed more calmly, settled on his knees between those prudently separated thighs, and lowered the navy slip of his swimwear.
The cock that was exposed was long, with a thick core and marked veins running along the shaft; the tip glistened with the first drop of pre-cum appearing. The stranger grabbed the base, guided it to Elena's damp edge, and with a slowness that drove all three of them desperate, pressed the glans against the entrance.
Elena opened her mouth in a brief, muffled moan; she felt the hot flesh displace the tightness and open a path inward. The man advanced only a couple of centimeters, stopped, appreciated the sight of the shifted thong and the whiteness of the vibrating, expectant buttocks, and pushed again. The tunnel yielded; the cunt, wet and hot, closed around this new guest.
David moved to the side so that the scene was offered to him in all its splendor: Elena's hip formed a perfect arc where the left buttock pressed against the sand and the right one rose, trembling. Between the two, the dark cock slid in and out, dragging a viscous sheen; the rhythm was slow, deliberate, the stranger's hand resting on her waist to provide traction, controlling the depth of each thrust.
"So tight..." the man mused, and turned his head toward David. "Your girl is a gift, brother."
David swallowed hard. Excitement throbbed in his groin, but the mixture of infamy and pride paralyzed him; he felt the air grow heavy. Elena opened her eyes and found him. Their gazes welded together; in them danced shame and a strange gratitude. She reached out her hand, seeking his; David took it, squeezing those fingers while the stranger picked up the pace.
The man leaned in, leveraging himself against her hip; with his free hand, he reached for the red bra, pulled it down, and left her soft breasts bare. The nipples, light pink, hardened under the breeze; he pinched them gently at first, then with enough force for Elena to twist her neck and let out a dull moan that resonated in David's belly.
"Do you like getting your pussy wrecked while your guy watches?" the stranger inquired in a raspy voice; the filter of excitement masked the rough courtesy from before.
Elena didn't answer with words; she pressed her lips together and adopted a more open posture, arching her back, offering her vulva with a docility that ignited the stranger. He grabbed both buttocks with full hands, spreading them enough so David could see the bar of flesh disappearing and reappearing with increasing speed; the thong was barely a red thread buried between those mounds of trembling flesh.
The sound that dominated now was the clash of pelvis against glute: a wet noise, a dull echo that the sand amplified. Elena whimpered, her breath trailing, and occasionally she winced when the tip of that cock hit the bottom of her vagina, touching the cervix with a pressure that bordered between pain and pleasure.
David couldn't take it anymore: he unzipped his shorts and pulled out his own erection, red and pulsating; he wrapped his fingers around it, masturbating slowly to prolong the vision. The stranger noticed and smiled with self-assurance, proud to display his conquest. He pushed harder, forcing Elena to rest her forehead against the towel to cushion the impacts.
"I'm going to come inside her," he warned, like someone announcing a train time.
David nodded with ragged breath; he didn't want to interrupt the moment. Elena, between gasps, opened her mouth to object, but the words dissolved into a sharp moan when the man drove his cock all the way in and stopped, pinning her against the sand. The stranger's body tensed, he gripped her buttocks with brute force, and a grunt emerged from his throat while the first discharge of semen shot through the shaft, firing jets against the inner wall of Elena's cunt.
She felt the liquid heat expand inside, the warm stream soaking the vaginal wall and falling in palpitations to the rhythm of that foreign cock's heartbeat; the overflow was so evident that even David guessed it, because he saw the man pull back a couple of centimeters and thrust again, squeezing out the last white clots that mixed with Elena's lubrication and dripped over the shifted thong.
The stranger remained motionless for an instant, breathed deeply, and finally pulled out completely; the head of his member shone, soaked in the mixture of juices. Elena remained prostrate, thighs trembling, her buttock still raised, contracting in minor spasms that sent the viscous lichen jumping in thin strings that fell to the sand.
David leaned in, ran his hand over her hip; his finger brushed the small white puddle escaping from the cleft and he felt the damp heat emanating from it. Elena looked up; her cheeks were red, her forehead pearled with sweat, her lips parted. In her eyes, there was a mixture of vertigo, guilt, and a spark of… gratitude.
The stranger adjusted his swimwear, wiped his palm across his belly to clean the last remains, and said:
"Thanks a lot, friend. It's been… unforgettable."
David nodded. He found no words; he was still masturbating with slow movements, his cock aching from the accumulated tension. The stranger walked away with a casual stride, without looking back; soon he was lost among the multicolored umbrellas swarming the shore.
Elena sat up with difficulty, covered her breasts, and pulled up her bra. She adjusted her thong clumsily and looked at the small creamy stain on the towel; the blushing mark of what had just occurred. David knelt in front of her, brushed a damp lock of hair from her forehead, and whispered:
"Are you okay?"
Elena studied him for a long time; the surf rumbled behind them, and the silence between them seemed like another character on the beach. Finally, she nodded, took his hand that was still holding his erect cock, and pressed it against her chest.
"I don't know… if this was too much," she confessed, and her voice trembled, but she found no condemnation in his gaze, only a vibrating question.
David leaned in, kissed her softly on the corner of her lips, and both remained there, kneeling in the sand, turning their backs to the sun, sharing the breath of hot wind and the salty taste of a moment that had just fractured, forever, the limits of who they thought they were.