Sunday Snog: On the Beach

When Victoria announced her upcoming "Blisse Kiss by the Sea" event, I was frantic. I ran over all my stories in my mind. I have a few that include some scenes by the ocean, but I couldn't think of a single kiss by the seaside.

Then I remembered I was scheduled to write the free Hot Shot short story for the Total-E-Bound August newsletter. So I figured, why not kill two birds with one stone? I sat down and penned a very naughty tale entitled "On the Beach", and I was sure to include a tasty snog.

When Isabella’s husband and master decides to share her with his closest friend, the couple’s kinky games take on a whole new dimension. Greg has always inflicted his delicious torments in the privacy of their home. Then his college roommate and best man James suggests that the threesome visit a nude beach, and to Isabella’s surprise and consternation, Greg agrees. A willing slave, she can hardly refuse, even though the outing will expose the marks from her recent punishment. But shame and humiliation are not the only tests that await Isabella on the beach. 

All of the authors participating in Victoria's seaside snogging extravaganza are giving away a prize, and I'm no exception. One lucky person who leaves a comment will receive a copy of Truce of Trust, my M/F/M polyamory story. Part of that novella does in fact take place at a seaside resort on the coast of Maine, so I figured it was appropriate. Just leave me a comment (don't forget to include your email address!) and you might be my winner. 

And if you want to read the rest of  "On the Beach", you'll have the opportunity around the beginning of August.

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I scan the currently empty beach. The walkers have rounded the promontory that delineates the cove to the north. The sea thunders, leaving foamy filigree upon the slate-hued sand. A pelican swoops over the waves, then wheels out of sight.

“Turn around,” James orders. I glance at Greg. He nods. I understand that I am to obey them both today. 

My husband’s friend traces one of the stripes on my shoulder, then slips down to fondle another welt on my ass. His touch, though gentle, wakes new pain in my battered flesh. I wince and he lands a sudden slap on my punished butt. I don’t mind. I feel myself moistening, melting, yielding as always to the intoxicating combination of tenderness and power.

“We really did a job on you.” His voice is gruff with lust, but I also hear something like awe. “Sorry...” He draws my hair aside to nuzzle at my nape.

“Don’t apologise to the slave, James.” Greg steps in front of me. His cock is now fully engorged. It sways as he steps closer to tweak my nipples. Lightning sizzles down to my clit. His cock bats against my thigh. I lower my gaze, as I’ve been taught. “The slave exists to serve us. If we want to beat her, we beat her. She’s happy to beaten, as long as it pleases us.”

He sounds like some Dom in a cheesy romance novel. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. With his finger and thumb, he tips my chin up so that our eyes meet. A wild light burns in his, fierce and proud and full of love. Joy balloons in my chest, ready to burst.

When his mouth descends to mine, I open immediately to his probing tongue. I want him to take everything he can. He tastes of espresso and maple syrup, from the decadent brunch James cooked for us. His familiar scent fills my nostrils, like sun-warmed earth. His vacation stubble grazes my cheek. Every sensation is welcome, glorious. His lips seal themselves to mine, drinking in my devotion. This is my husband, my lover, my master.  I deny him nothing.

Releasing my chin, he moulds my breasts, squeezing the soft flesh, dragging his thumbs over the rigid tips, making my poor, soaked pussy ache for his hardness.  His sharp teeth nip the corner of my mouth and I gasp at the sudden pain. My clit throbs in the aftermath.

“Isabella,” he murmurs, delving deeper, taking more. Delicious weakness seizes me, but James is behind me, hands encircling my waist, simultaneously caressing and supporting me. My husband’s friend licks his way down my spine, leaving a wet trail that cools in the sea breeze. Then suddenly he parts my rear cheeks and sweeps his tongue across my rear hole, still loose and sensitised from last night's invasions.