Beachhouse

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She smiled at passersby, with her sarong around her shoulders, her bronze skin in sharp contrast with the white 2-piece bathing suit. He cancelled their late lunch, which, she reasoned, was probably for the best. This was a business trip for him, however, they had managed to meet everyday for lunch since they met.

Playing with fire. She knew that she was attracted to him from the moment she saw those hazel eyes. A married woman acting like a giggling schoolgirl over a very married man. With only 3 vacation days left, she had her first afternoon alone since their flight landed in Cancun.

She loved to see men's faces follow full chest bounce, but walking the shore alone seemed pathetic. Shopping meant that she would have to cover more skin, and frankly she liked the way her heavy round breasts and full hips filled the swimwear. She satisfied her exhibition need-- lounging on the porch, laid out in full view, less than 100 feet away from the high tide shoreline.

His warm hand touched her ankle and followed a line up to her thighs. She woke up to the sensation. Her pleasure hindered by the worry that her legs weren't thin enough. His tongue on the slight hallow of her hip made a icy tingle flow through her .

. . the power of his lips on her flesh excited all of her at once. Open her eyes and place her palm on his hair.

And for a moment, she pretended that she was still dreaming. He sat on the edge of the chaise, partly turned to look at her directly. Her thoughts were manic . .

. she wanted him but, fear had her. Is there any possible way of having him and not be wrong? The question she could not deny asking herself. It did not matter, she would not say no.

She was certain it could not be lust -- the only lust she has ever known was hot, and prickly, and waned with orgasm. This desire for him was like nothing else. Anger, endearment, confusion and dismissal ran course through her mind. The only power she to fight her desire for him was fear.

. . not about her husband finding out, but about this married man refusing her. She did not know his feelings and the possibility of rejection wounded her.

The desire for him grew, despite her motivations to get rid of these feelings for this man she should not want. The unspoken attraction pulled them together. This attraction also burned her: her conscience, love life and faith. There was the safety in the quiet struggle .

. . like she could be free to feel exactly what she wanted to feel without anyone knowing. Perhaps it was too late to ask whether she should have allowed the mental compromise.

It was the stolen caresses that fueled the fire that slowly consumed her failing morality. As the heat from his body wrapped around her, she entered into the beauty of the moment. They came to this moment though hours of talking, enjoying each other company. They had a union of souls .

. . she and he became the world, and no one else matter or cared. He was connected to her, and even if today was their last day, she was his, and he was hers.

The sweetness of what was happening filled the painful emptiness that into which he fit perfectly. Her fear faded and, for one pure moment, she knew what is it like to love -- it was the desire to fill and complete the one who has made you whole. His eyes showed no evidence of the battle that confused her.

. . . .

Categories: Adult