The September heat had been oppressive all afternoon, even along the PCH. They'd met at Beau Rivage. Met for the first time, as they had become acquainted online, and living a good distance from one another, it had taken awhile before they could arrange a meeting. Then too, both had reason to take precautions; discretion was important. They each had no desire to change their life substantively, just to spice it up a bit.

While it had been full daylight when they arrived, twilight had come and gone as they made conversation over dinner. Unaccountably, they had hit it off very well; she a homemaker in what many years ago had become a marriage of convenience, he cast adrift a couple years back from an LTR after he'd been downsized, with his essoh deciding that it was too long to wait the couple years until, with retraining, his earning power was once again what it had been. Regardless of their respective situations, they had enjoyed the evening, talking away, almost like old friends, despite the fact that they had exchanged only a handful of e mails. As they talked, there developed a closeness, an intimacy, that prompted discreet touches across the table, and longing looks, each into the eyes of the other, wondering if, and when.

As she returned from the ladies room, both were surprised at the maitre'd hotel, discreetly reminding them of the weeknight schedule that was being kept, and of the world outside. He protested her getting the check, but not too strongly; he was wondering if he ought to suggest, no, not this time. They walked to the door. Although each was surprised at the lateness of the hour and the deepening night, neither wanted the evening to end quite yet, but both being a little old school, neither knew quite what to suggest, except that they check in to the hotel for a few hours. The idea just seemed so tacky, yet...

With a sense of relief they decided to take a short walk along the beach. Crossing the highway was a trial, even at this hour, and reaching the other side short of breath from the running and the laughter, they continued to hold the hands that had inexplicably reached out to one another, gripping as they had weaved through traffic. Their handholding was comfortable, almost like stepping into an old pair of slippers. Each looked at the other, seeing smiling, shining eyes, and felt alive again for the first time in years.

As sister moon lit the breaking waves with a shining luminescent sparkle as they broke upon the beach, the couple walked the surfline, dancing with the tide, as the water threatened to soak their shoes. At an opportune moment, they stopped on the leeward side of a rock formation to take them off, making their walk less troublesome. He tried to take his off without sitting in the sand; she was having none of that and gave him a playful push. Laughing, he fell, at her feet, his hands still fighting with perverse shoelaces.

With a mock growl, he looked up toward her face. His eyes stopped short, however, at the sight of soft white thighs, which had been exposed as she'd sat, with a thump, in the sand. With her skirt at mid thigh, he was treated to a lush view that went quite nearly to the delta of her womanhood, hidden, just out of view, in the dark beneath her skirt. Tearing his eyes away from her stocking tops, he finally arrived at her face. And saw that she knew what he'd seen.

In that split second eternity, with their eyes searching one another, as he dithered wondering if the view had been an intentional invitation, and whether or not he should officially 'notice', or should politely fail to do so, she made up her mind. It had been literally years since she had been truly excited as she touched, held, or been embraced by a lover, and she was not going to lose this opportunity. She'd known, from their exchange of pix online, that he was no young, handsome, stud. But he'd been fun to echat with, and being age-mates, they'd shared a lot of history, though they'd never lived within fifteen hundred miles of one another until recently.

It was in that moment that she realized that the daydreams of meeting a tall, dark, handsome stranger, who would sweep her off her feet, were just that... daydreams. She realized also that this older, slightly paunchy gentleman, possessing a shiny head, also possessed a sincere smile, a ready laugh and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. And in that moment, she extended her hand, and pulled him to her side, in an invitation that not even he could mistake.

They clung, each to the other, as survivors of a shipwreck might, their long pent needs coming to the fore. Softly he murmured her name into her ear, more breath than sound, and, fully sensing her soft, fragrant hair, he felt a tightening in his groin. Her hands, with a volition of their own, began to pull his shirt from his trou; he slid his hands up the back of her thighs until he reached her soft bottom, stroking gently, causing a shiver to run up her spine, and inciting a heat and damp between her legs such as she had not felt in a very long while. Just that quickly the pleasure of flesh on flesh, the reality of being held once again, by someone who found her desirable, aroused in her more lust than many solo sessions; time spent alone with her daydreams, and her B.O.B.

Pushing his shoulder, she rolled him onto his back, unsnapped his sansabelt slacks, and awkwardly pulled them, as well as his old school jockeys, quite nearly to his knees. He gasped as the waistbands cleared his genitals and he sprang free, up and out, the night air a sensual shock. Her baggy silk blouse, similarly displaced, had slid upward sensually, and exposed to his gaze and the gentle touch of one hand, a fair bosom that, while having over the years succumbed to gravity, did not fail to incite him further. Large, dark aureolae, desire stiffened nipples the size of cherries stretched by time and teething children, were devoured by his eyes, and he exulted in the knowledge that this was no simpering woman/child, but a mature woman, a woman who knew her mind and her body, and was no stranger to the longings of the flesh.