A beach-romance One-Night Stand

He didn’t expect her to come. He didn’t believe he would see her again.

He met her that morning, walking alone on the beach. She was wearing a long, light, pink dress that fluttered in the breeze and made her lovely figure stand out. She was short, a little plump, but she had the most charming smile.

She wasn’t laughing at the moment, though, she was brooding, and even though the sunrise to her right was a fantastic cacophony of lights and colours, she watched ahead of her as her boots in her blue sandals made footprints in the sand.

He couldn’t sleep at night and gave up in the morning, leaving his apartment quietly so as not to wake anyone and making his way to the sea. It was still dark and only the cold moon lit his way. He sat down under a tree, the grass beneath him was cold and damp and he was glad of it. He tried to shake off all thoughts and memories and waited quietly for dawn.

When she appeared, an unwelcome, intrusive element in his solitude, he frowned. He waited patiently for her to pass, for her to disappear from his horizon, only for her to pause as if she needed a breath, even though she was barely gliding. And then, quite unexpectedly, she headed for the tree where he sat.

She did not see him.

He was sitting a little off to the side, and from where she had settled herself, a large rock shielded him from her view. But if she had turned her head, she would have seen him. But she didn’t do that; she sat seven feet away from him and had no idea she wasn’t alone.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to leave right away, he decided to draw attention to himself by coughing.

She looked at him in surprise. He expected the look to be one of crankiness or perhaps irritation, but she smiled at him.

“I guess it was foolish to wait…” she said, then paused and started to get up. “Never mind, I’ll find another place, the beach is extensive.”

“You don’t have to because of me,” he told her. He attempted a smile, but he was naturally shy and just couldn’t conjure one this hastily. So he just added. “We can pretend the other one isn’t here.”

To his surprise, she nodded.

But his solitude had already been disturbed by the intruding element. The woman. What would have been an opportunity for another to make acquaintance, perhaps even flirt, he perceived only as a moment when – as almost always – he had no idea what interaction was expected of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like people; rather, it was his own lack of empathy and understanding of others that made him feel best alone.

And so they were silent.

“I was afraid of the sea when I was a kid,” she said when he almost didn’t expect any conversation to take place between them, and he was glad of it. Now he frowned. And she added. “Not the depths, I love the idea of the infinity, the possibilities, the mystery. But I saw the sea as a giant container full of water. Water terrified me. I guess it still scares me to this day, but when I walk into the sea only to have the waves splash on my feet and no further…”

She paused, turned to him.

“I guess I talk too much and you’re here to be alone,” she said guiltily.

Really guiltily, he smiled at her this time and it wasn’t at all macho.

“Feel free to talk, I don’t mind the voice. If I want, I’ll close my eyes and imagine I hear music.”

He wondered if it wasn’t polite to introduce himself. In the end, he decided to wait for her to say her name. But she probably wasn’t planning to.

“The most beautiful thing about the sea is that it’s blue-green,” she said. “My favourite colour. You practically can’t find it on land.”

She turned to him.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“I don’t know. Blue is fine. But I think I like yellow. When you look at yellow, it’s like… I don’t know how to describe it… yellow is a happy colour.”

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

“Yellow is the colour of the sun. It couldn’t be more positive. Or is it?

He looked at her. She had big brown eyes, and they were very positive. He wasn’t going to talk about her eyes, though; it certainly wasn’t appropriate. The orange rays reflected in those eyes and made her eyes a soft honey colour.

They stared at each other, both surprised that no one moved their gaze. Finally, it was she who turned her head, stood, and began to shake the sand from her dress.

“I have to…” she looked up at him. “I already…”

“I’ll be here before dark,” he said. He surprised himself the most by saying that. She looked at him and nodded, and he was going to spend the rest of the day wondering if she’d nodded to hear him or nodded to accept his unspoken offer.

Only she came.

She was wearing loose, white, canvas shorts, under which he could see no panties. And then a light blue shirt with rolled-up sleeves, buttoned with a single button, so it was clear she hadn’t even worn a bra.

At the first moment he had the urge to leave. He wasn’t the kind of man women went to for sex. He wasn’t even sure he was good at sex. Everything was working as it should and he was always keen to keep his wife happy, but was he succeeding?

Another reason he wanted to leave was that while he found her sympathetic in the morning, she was pronouncedly beautiful in the fading light. And in fact, that was probably why he stayed after all.

He sat on the beach towel so as to leave plenty of room for her beside him. He had a whole rotisserie chicken packed in a basket beside him, along with a chilled white wine and two tall glasses. Right off the bat, she surprised him unpleasantly when she said she wasn’t hungry.

But then she quickly added: “But I’d love some wine.”

He handed her the glass.

He ventured to ask.

“Isn’t it time we said our names?”

She smiled.

“Definitely,” she said. “I’m Marilyn Monroe.”

He grinned.

“Wasn’t Marilyn blond?!”

“I guess she was. And she had a smaller arse, too. And she was mobbed by the most beautiful men of the time. But I wonder why spoil such an extraordinary moment with the mundane.”

“I can’t disagree with that. I’m…”

He thought for a moment, knowing exactly what he wanted to say, but not wishing it looked like he had the answer to his male role model so easily at hand.

“Albert Einstein.”

“Nice to meet you, Albert,” she said.

“Likewise, Marilyn. Any new movies on the horizon?”

“Of course. I’m going to Africa to save chimpanzees. The movie will be called Elsa the Vegan Lioness. By the way, that wine is delicious.”

“It’s from the year I won the Nobel Prize. It was a good year.”

She smiled mischievously at him.

“Which year was it supposed to be?”

“If I’m not mistaken, 1921.”

“Wow, over a hundred years. By the way, could we have met? Marilyn and Albert?”

He nodded.

“I’m sure. I don’t know exactly when she died, but it was only a few years after he did. While he passed away in his seventies, she wasn’t even forty.”

He looked at her, maybe to see if she’d mention anything about her age, but she didn’t bait.

“There’s a great joke about them,” he added. “She said: what if we were to marry? With my looks and your brain, what wonderful children we would have. Einstein replied, Yes, but what if they had my looks and your brain?”

“That’s a little harsh,” she laughed. “What about you? How many stepchildren do you actually have? Didn’t they say you were a bit of a Casanova?”

“One of the theories that hasn’t been proven,” he winked at her conspiratorially. “One thing I wonder, when you kiss in the movies, do your lips touch his or does the camera angle make it look like a real kiss?”

“You mean like this?”

She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Her lips were soft, silky, and he felt a tingle.

“Let’s see,” he said, “if I’ve got you right.”

He leaned over her and pulled her closer. She let herself. Their lips met, his moving very slowly, hers more playfully, and soon she parted her lips and offered him her tongue as well.

Slowly he laid her down on the blanket and his hand slid gently under her shirt, her breasts were dry and very soft. His fingers immediately found her nipple and began to knead it, and her nipple responded by hardening.

She moaned.

Her hand slipped under his shirt, her short lips gently scratching his stomach. It was clear he was wondering how far she was going to let this go. Would their adventure end at a kiss, or would the romantic evening end with lovemaking on the shore of the sea in the early night?

He undid the button of her shirt, but didn’t stop kissing her. How he’d love to look at those breasts, the very idea excited him, and along with her touches it didn’t take long for him to feel ready and hard.

She decided.

Her fingers, playing with the hair on his stomach, headed lower. She spilled her glass of wine at the movement, but neither paid attention. She used one hand to try to undo the punt of his light linen shorts, breaking contact with his lips to look, and he took advantage of that to finally get a look at her breasts.

They were large, unexpectedly firm, her nipples very pale pink.

He pulled off her shirt and with her help pulled down her shorts as well, she obediently lifted her bottom. Then he pulled off his own shorts, before taking his wallet out of his pocket, and with quick movements, because what he was about to do could not be delayed any longer, he tore open the condom wrapper and handed it to her.

With that gesture, that offer of rubber protection, he was actually asking her: Do you want it? He was asking, “Will you let me?

And she took the translucent thing and deftly put it on him, then found the most comfortable position for herself, lay down with her legs slightly bent and pulled him to her.

“You’re gorgeous,” he told her as he thrust into her.

She moaned with pleasure, grabbing the back of his hair and pulling his head to her.

“Kiss me,” she said. “Please.”

He wanted to look at her, watch her eyes and lips respond to his movements inside her, but kissing her was the next best thing to doing at the moment. He didn’t let himself beg.

This time his kisses were rougher, pressing his lips to hers hard and conquering her. She was his. Now and here, dark-haired, plump Marilyn Monroe belonged to him alone. He could feel himself sliding inside her, grabbing her ass, her curves, which she quite definitely hated and he would so love to tell her she had the prettiest ass he’d ever seen.

She tilted her head, breathing sharply, her eyes closed.

He straightened up a little, his cock deep inside her, taking in the pleasure and letting her drift. He could feel hers too, Even though she had beautiful breasts, he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Her arousal was a powerful trigger, and he was afraid it would be too fast.

So he leaned in, willingly giving up the view, and gently bit her neck.

She arched beneath him and moaned.

“Yes,” she said.

At that moment, she gripped him sharply with the way she withdrew her pelvis. He began to move faster inside her. He nibbled gently on her neck, his hand rubbing her amazing breasts, his remaining hand on the floor to keep his balance. He felt the nails from her hands dig into his back, felt the deep scratch those nails left on his back.

Pain mingled with pleasure.

He looked at her again. Their eyes met, he could feel the intensity in her gaze as she smiled at him. Only it wasn’t a smile, she closed her eyes and her lips pulled into a grin, her moan deeper and louder now. Her gurgling sound echoed into the sound of the sea waves crashing against the shore, gurgling and urgent, and he watched her face with the last of his strength, the spasms of her orgasm changing her beyond recognition.

At that moment, his own pleasure overflowed and exploded in a series of orgasmic fireworks, he pressed her body as close to his as he could, barely catching his breath, wanting to crush her beneath him, grind her to dust, all the while coddling her like a goddess.

He rolled away, lying on his back now, arms outstretched as if crucified.

She snuggled against him, still naked, warm and wet. He felt her quickened breath on his face and smiled. He turned his head toward her and saw that she had her eyes closed.

When the whirlwind of his thoughts calmed down, he knew for sure he didn’t want it to end like this. He wanted to see her again. He needed her.

And yet he knew this was the end. If it wasn’t going to be the end, it wouldn’t be all so perfect, so lustful, so ultimate.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered.

He wanted to say “please” and he also wanted to say “don’t leave just yet.”

The only resistance he was capable of was watching her get dressed. He watched as she blew him an air kiss and then stared after her until she disappeared into the darkness.

He heard her footsteps in the sand for a moment longer.

Then night and silence fell.

Don’t ruin this romantic vibe—spill some love!