Chapter 3

DAY THREE

The sunrise slept in as beach fog obscured the world as far as I could see. My mind was clear, knowing brief gratification would have ruined a life of friendship. I came back into the house, the darkness telling me Maria was still slumbering. No coffee to be found I boiled water for tea, careful not to wake her. The house appeared to be in hibernation, with empty shelves and nothing other than condiments in the fridge. Two pan fried frozen corn dogs and a mustard packet improvised breakfast.

I then sat and waited anxiously for the verdict. Would she fly out of the room in anger for allowing us to go too far? There were times when I felt ghosted after one of us would break an unwritten rule. The longest had been six months. Felt more like a lifetime, I had almost given up when she reemerged.

Late in the morning the creak of the door hinge alerted me that Maria was up. She stood there with a sheepish look, afraid to cross the threshold. With her eyes averted to the carpet “I said some things last night, did some things, no regrets but you know this doesn’t change anything. Call me heartbreaker if you must.”

“Seriously, you apologize for giving me the best time of my life? Last night was like being in one of your tales, we were alive inside your creative vision. You drove me to the edge but pulled back. I know who you want, and he is waiting at home. We both would been sorry if things went too far,” a sneezing attack belied my good intentions.

My involuntary outbreak broke the ice. “You slick-tongued devil,” Mary laughed. “I bet you wondered if I locked the door. Keep wondering, it’s my secret.”

“Now you are being a cock-tease,” I jested with my usual dry humor.

“Don’t forget your promise to take me to Blacks Beach where I can watch the boys play. I’m going to step into the shower, clothes and all to destroy the evidence” she tiptoed to the bathroom, arms at her side, “toss me the white halter-top bathing suit.”

Maria made a grand entrance while combing out her hair, an individual cascaded lock drew attention to her eyes, the rays of the sun reflecting obsidian mirrors. The Comicon T was dripping wet, so I squeezed it over the sink. “You can wear my white dress shirt over your suit. You’ll look sexy, and the shirt will provide cover in case we make it to the nude beach,” I hope my reply didn’t sound too suggestive.

“And what about you?’ Mary cross-examined me.

“I’ll take off the shorts there if needed. You got a pretty good look at me last night and I could care less whether anyone else in San Diego County sees my privates. I don’t even live in this county and haven’t worked here for years. No one would recognize me. Speaking of travel, you should pack before we leave. The plane leaves at seven. Have you heard from Eva or Jim?”

“Nope and they are not my worry. I don’t think we will hear from Eva. She had her own agenda. If we only have a day, let’s not miss a minute. I’m not going back to the convention. After the beach trip I want you to show me your favorite places. Now get over here,” Maria pulled me into a rewarding kiss.

We wouldn’t be returning to the beach house so the back seat was pulled down to make more room for our belongings. I hung up her summer dress on the hanger for my work cloths, laying the T shirt flat dry. Spare beachwear was bagged and slipped under neatly folded clothes that had never been worn. Setting out as Maria looked out over the ocean, breeze blowing her curls, Jackson Brown’s ‘Running on Empty’ rang out over the stereo, as we drove to La Jolla to find an off-road private place to park below UCSD where we wouldn’t get towed.

When the song ended Maria silenced the music, rolled up the window, and recounted her part of the previous night. “Waking at midnight, I was disoriented laying in a strange bed. For a moment I thought I was home. The stiff as a board T shirt plastered to my body brought me back to the present.”

“I opened the bedroom door slightly to see the room quiet and dark except for the faint crackling of a few coals in the fireplace. Your stuff was gone and there was no sight of you. I hummed the Beatles ‘Norwegian Wood,’ and remembered the last stanza: ‘And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown,’ frowning with the last lyric. My body went limp as I sat dejected, my mind told me it couldn’t end this way, we had too much history”

“With the realization you wouldn’t leave me behind I stepped outside and did a perp walk by a few homes up the street, the soiled top illuminated by the porchlight. I then saw your car down a ways towards the beach. The fogged windows gave you away. I crept back inside, closed the bedroom door behind, without locking it and fell back to sleep. The rest is history.”

“Of course, I’d never leave you and we’re almost there,” were my comments. ‘So, the door was unlocked after all ... I would have resisted, right? were my deep thoughts. I would replay a different scenario in the shower, a gratifying night of lovemaking.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at the secret parking space in the dirt. Walking separately down a steep incline to keep our balance we struck sand in less than 100 yards. Carrying a backpack for towels and clothing, we set out across the hot sand toward the water. Maria found it difficult to step even wearing Sketchers, but the wet sand was more agreeable. Strolling past the ‘Blacks Beach. Nudity Prohibited’ sign we saw people cavorting ahead sans clothes.

As we drew closer, we could see that this was a college group, men and women with firm bodies and full tans. Some threw and caught Frisbees, others played beach volleyball, but most sunbathed. They took little notice and we proceeded up the beach. She tried to run ahead but I kept pace.

After crossing a little stream, we entered the local’s community, a few couples but mostly men. “We need to lose our clothes if we want to continue to the secret cove,” I coached. Maria shed her suit under the shirt. “Walk ahead and I’ll follow. We’ll go a lot further with a ‘Hot Chica’ leading the way. Keep walking until I say stop. You will know when we’re there.” I stuffed our suits in the bag.

“You should pose for postcards,” I called ahead as the white Oxford sailed in the sea breeze, sometimes giving a quick view of her sweet ass or sneak peek inside the top.

“In your dreams,” she retorted.

“Careful what you ask for,” the light banter masking the more serious vibe we were receiving.

The terrain rose to the right opposite the water. After ten minutes of hiking a large rock outcrop against the cliff signaled the entrance to the ‘Gentleman’s Club.” I had never dared to entry this private area.

Ahead was a gaggle of men, some flaccid, some erect, some couples, others alone. We stopped when two handsome Adonai approached us. Smiling and holding hands they introduced themselves as Greg and Pete. After exchanging pleasantries Greg saw that we were out of countenance and nodded towards a little cove 25 feet forward. The miniature Paradise was a breathtaking sight. Gentle waves of almost clear blue green water formed a pool on the left with a carved-out niche of pure sand, a 25- foot semicircle on the right.

Greg spoke in a matter-of-fact tone to Maria as she let the shirt fly away like a grounded kite. “Your cuckhold husband here wants to watch wifey take on a real man or maybe he’s a little curious.”

“We are married, but not to each other. Seeing two fine-looking men enjoying themselves is a big turn-on for me, he is simply the guide,” Maria voiced with confidence, “this is a one-time indulgence for me. My husband would never approve. He does not even know this kinky side of me.”

“From your dialect I can tell that you are not from here, Texas?” Greg observed.

“San Anton, anywho, San Diego’s a piddlee’o thang,” mocked Maria flirting with her eyelashes.

“There are not enough of you hot blooded women that want to see two men make love. Maybe we can help you out with your fantasy.” Greg turned to Pete who nodded his consent. “You’re a fine-looking ‘lass, would you like to join?

“No thank you, the idea is thrilling but this is as far as I can push fidelity. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a seat here as a spectator,” Maria turned to me, “Martin, keep watch at the perimeter, this is an exclusive premier.”

After what seemed to be an hour, the three emerged as Maria waved me over to join the group. Her expression reflected glowing coals as our eyes locked. I turned my back and went to salvage our possessions as she drifted away from the guys after saying thank you and goodbye.

Several sneezes announced my reaction to perceiving her state of excitement. “I know, trust me I know,” Maria spoke as we strode side by side, not daring to hold hands. Maria kept everything that happened inside the bubble to herself. Those were the only words spoken on the way back the secret beach entrance. Giving a wide berth to the nudists we walked, then ran along wet sand until we were out of breath.

As soon as our butts hit the seat, the pungent smell of Maria’s arousal filled my senses. Surprisingly, she didn’t take notice even in the small interior space. We drove to Sunset Cliff’s Park for a last view of the ocean. Open windows refreshed the atmosphere with salty sea air.

Off the trail we found a local lovers’ rendezvous point, a flat area carpeted with multicolored poppies and one picnic table. The space was cordoned off by a collection of rocks in the shape of a heart. We sat on the tabletop to take in the breathtaking vista that surrounded us.

Pulling out my guitar I stood and serenaded her with my original siren song. “Maria Rises From the Deep.” Although she had read the lyrics before in one of our email exchanges, the euphonic strums and haunting melody, hovering over the ocean cliffs completed the requiem that was more of a ballad to a special lady than love song.

‘And your words like water, they spray me down, I will close my eyes and stand my ground, for I shall surely drown, in your spell. Like a waking dream. But when I take a breath of air so clean, my spirit leaps ... to join you rising from the deep.’

When she disappeared for a ten minutes, I gave her privacy to relieve her bladder. I’m glad I didn’t say anything for she surprised me with a bouquet of hand-picked African Daisies. I pulled a partially full bottle of port wine with plastic flutes from a daypack to toast my ‘Summer Valentine.’ The liquor warmed our throats as I placed toffy treats on her tongue. She had let her guard down, French kissing me, Maria stabbed her tongue through my lips as I sucked in sweet molasses.

We then sat cross-legged on the flower carpet and held each other as one body. William Goldman once wrote: “Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” But he had never kissed Maria.

Maria was a heavenly kisser, her puffy lips sealed mine as tiny flitters darted inside as though I had swallowed a fairy. We became two new people lost in an embrace, caught in a dance spinning out of control. Saliva bridged the gap when I pulled away to take the lead. Kisses became intense as she pulled me on top of her. My tongue bobbed in and out in a frenzy, fucking her welcoming mouth.

She never spoke of what she had watched at the beach, but I still believe that witnessing her fantasy in the flesh, today’s man to man porn show, drove her fervor beyond limits. The game was on. Tugging the halter over her arms I hungrily feasted on each busty mammary, leaving pressure marks behind as I moved to the next one. Her hands guided my head as she whispered, then shouted my name. Stripping the suit from her, my painful hardness dragged across her hairless belly, through a puddle of nectar and lined up for penetration.

With an out of breath command, “no, not there,” she slid down, trapping me between her massive tits, pushing them together to create a bun for my Johnson. Precum oozed to launch a slippery channel. “Men have tried the Chilidog move before but it there is nothing in it for me,” she lamented.

Maria then flipped over to present her bubble butt, expressing, “let’s try something different, take me without penetration,” using her fingers to spread pussy juices as lubrication she planted my cock in the valley between the folds of her bubble butt. “Hubby doesn’t like it but I do, a taboo treat.”