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I did a double take as I passed the window, surely I didn’t see what I thought I saw. When a second glance seemed to confirm my initial suspicions, I had to grab the binoculars for a closer look. Just to be certain.
Sure enough amid the sand and rocks, a gentleman’s pert bottom was in view. My eyes were glued to my binoculars as I took in the full extent of the scene. Clothes piled neatly on one rock, a camera and tripod in front of him, I watched as he manoeuvred himself into a variety of poses once he had pressed the button on the camera which clearly had a self timer on the go.
I hadn’t realised how captivated I had been while watching him until he started to pack his things away. As I wondered who this mystery man was and why on earth he was taking nude photos on the beach that was a stones throw from my home, I watched in horror as he lost his footing and in a clear effort to save his camera he neglected to save himself.
A keen runner means my running shoes are always by the front door, I pull them on, despite the fact I’m still in my pyjamas and make my at top speed down the driveway, and within minutes my feet have landed on the soft sand. I don’t grab my keys and I haven’t shut the front door. There nearest cottage is exactly 1.25 miles away, and no one else will be up at this hour of the morning anyway. Which is probably what this poor chap was betting on when he got starkers on the beach, he may well be grateful that at least one inhabitant of our little village is an early riser though.
I focus on him as I’m running towards him, his back is to me but I can see he remains on the ground. Possibly it will just be a bruised ego when he realises he has been spotted, but he wouldn’t be the first person to have twisted or even broken an ankle on one of the deceptively slippy rocks.
There is no easy way to alert him to my presence as I get close enough for him to hear me, but the clink of pebble against rock seems better than a booming hello. His head turns as the pebble bounces off a rock just to the right of him, his eyes widen in horror as he sees me, he’s cheeks flushing red and his hands are clearly lost as to whether to remain holding tight to his ankle or move higher to avoid me getting an eyeful of more erotic parts.
To save him his blushes, though I admit I had my fun watching him squirm, I reached for his clothing and passed them to him. As I did this I noticed two things, his hiking bag looked as though it included a tent and his body was absolutely one I wanted to devour.
Once he had managed to get enough clothes on to cover his modesty, not that he had much modesty left at this point, he allowed me to look at his ankle. I had no medical training but my fair share of injuries told me it wasn’t broken, but it was likely to be a fairly decent sprain and he’d need to rest it well and take good care of himself for a good few days at least, so it could begin to heal.
As I imparted my wise words to him, his foot was still resting in my hand, the heat from the pain and swelling he was suffering from was radiating across my own flesh. It had been a fair while since I’d had an attractive man in such close proximity to me and my body was not letting me forget it.
He looked at his bag, confirming my suspicions that he was on a hiking and camping adventure. He looked hopeful when he asked if there were any B&B’s near by. It was the height of summer though, and we were a very picturesque village with beautiful scenery for miles around. The one bed and breakfast we had would be full until the last rays of summer sun had given way to Autumn.
My next idea was perhaps the kind of suggestion that left people saying I was reckless. A comment I’d heard often in the course of my life, but he couldn’t exactly go far on that ankle of his and I couldn’t in good conscience let him make his own way to anywhere. He looked hesitant, which made me feel better, if he thought I was the crazy one, then chances are he was totally sane.
It took a while to get back to the cottage, luckily a bit of driftwood provided a makeshift walking stick, but we had to rest often and every step was painstakingly slow. Once we were back at the cottage though he looked delighted to find a plethora of home comforts, and though he tried to cause me minimal effort he was clearly grateful for a warm bath and a home cooked dinner.
It was that warm bath that took things from doing a good deed to doing the deed. I convinced him to leave the door ajar, promising I wasn’t a peeping Tom but that given his situation it’s probably better if he could call for help. The look on his face told me he would rather die than have me rescue him … again. When it came to it though, it seemed my assistance was preferable to lying in a cold bath all night. Because no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get his coordination and balance together enough to get himself out of the tub.
As I went in to help him, he soon realised he couldn’t be shy and get out of the bath. He needed to use his arms for support and couldn’t very well hold his cock while doing that. When I giggled at his discomfort he seemed a little upset when asking me what was so funny. When I explained that a man who took nude photos in the great outdoors didn’t strike me as the shy type, there was a shift in atmosphere that told me the attraction I had felt was not one sided.
Finally he was free from the water, and instinctively I wrapped a towel around him. It felt good to have someone to look after, it had been a long time since I could do that for anyone. As I helped him to the spare room, I resolved not to make this day any stranger than it already had been. He needed sleep and not a rampant woman accosting him when he couldn’t run away. As I turned to leave though two words said by him changed the whole thing … ‘stay awhile’.
Stay a while I did, as morning turned to afternoon and afternoon turned to evening and I was still there beside him when the moon had taken its place bright and bold in the beautiful Scottish skies.
In the darkness we shed our inhibitions, conversation slowed, and fingers tentatively began to entwine. My hands finally made their way across his body, as they had been aching to do from the first moment I saw him. His chest hair mesmerised me as I lost myself in how wonderful it felt beneath my palms. When his lips found mine, time did not slow, it stopped entirely. I could not breathe for the sudden and wanton desperation I felt within in me to feel every inch of him.
My mouth descended, nibbling, licking and sucking its way down his body. He groaned, moaned and sighed in a symphony of pleasure that I felt I could get used to. When I reached his cock, he was harder than I ever remembered possible. It was like a thick steel rod, and as I took it between my lips his girth stretched my mouth so wide it felt like an invasion. I thought I’d have to stop, that I should stop, I could trail my tongue along his shaft, flick it across his tip, take him in my hands and show him a good time that way. I couldn’t tear my mouth from him though.
The saliva was somehow finding a way to escape despite how full my mouth was, and though I barely knew this man and was unceremoniously drooling all over his cock, the feeling of arousal was more intense than I had ever known. I pushed my mouth further down licking, sucking, breathlessly trying to fuck my own mouth with as much of him as I could, while my hands roamed his body. Taking advantage of this he grabs my wrists, holding them until I finally realise he wants my attention somewhere other than his cock.
He pulls me back up the bed and once he’s satisfied his mouth with another kiss, he pushes me onto my back and his fingers find my cunt. He moans so low and deep when he fingers run up the length of my folds that it could accurately be described as a growl. That noise alone makes every inch of me shudder with anticipation, but the feeling of his rough, calloused hands against my skin makes every sensation intensify.
When he moves his fingers inside me he does so gently, but they feel s girthy as his cock and I can feel the ache of my cunt as it stretches to invite him to do more. It isn’t long before it’s impossible for me to tell how many fingers he has inside of me, all I know is that he is going send me crashing into orgasm, like waves against rock. He soon realised I wasn’t a soft and gentle kind of girl, that more of everything was the way to please me. That meant harder and faster without a doubt, and he was more than capable of delivering both.
He’s propped up on one elbow as he’s fucking me vigorously with his fingers, but he’s had a long day, and the effort seemed to be taking more energy than he had, and his head dropped to my chest, not in defeat but seemingly as extra support. The weight of him on my chest was more than I could take though, and I imagined being trapped fully beneath his weight, his hand pinned me down, his body pressed against mine as he fucked me, that thick cock deep into my dripping wet and eager cunt, all of these thoughts combined with his fingers pounding into me with a fierceness I had only ever dreamed of, created an orgasm to put all other orgasm to shame. My body shook and muscles spasmed, I cried out in a voice that I did not recognise as my own, my hands grasped at him as if he were an anchor and I a ship at sea.
When I opened my eyes the moon appeared to be long gone, the sun was streaming in through the curtains and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept that well. Assuming the thoughts drifting into my mind were the most epic of all dreams, I expected to find an empty space beside me in the bed. I was happier than I felt I should have been when I turned my head and found he was in fact real, and the scratch marks and bite marks seemed to indicate the sexy fun had been very real too.
I think of all the things we didn’t do though and the urge to wake him up to being all over again is hard to resist. I leave him resting though and hope, with a pang of guilt, that his ankle doesn’t heal too quickly. I could definitely see myself being the caring host to my new guest for a little while to come.
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