Traveling North
Chapter 3: Flat Rock Beach

Copyright© 2012 by William Turney Morris

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 3: Flat Rock Beach - Two lovers meet again after 23 years

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Romantic   Light Bond   First   Oral Sex  

Sunday December 13th, 1998

I was sound asleep until the alarm woke me; I was curled up cuddling Heather, spooned up behind her. During the evening we had somehow managed to kick the covers off us, but as the night was warm that had not mattered. Her body was pressed against mine, and I could feel her warmth. I had my arm over her side, resting my hand on her breast.

As she stirred, she stretched, pressing back against me, forcing my prick between her thighs. As my knob rubbed along her slit, the sensations of her wetness made him stir; stiffening against her lovely pussy. Heather moaned softly, almost purring like a cat, and I rubbed my thumb across her rapidly growing nipple.

Heather opened her legs slightly, allowing me to slide further along. I felt her move a hand down between her legs, and she pressed my prick harder against her pussy, and my knob pushed her labia apart as I moved back and forward. She was now very wet; I loved the rapid response her body made; the strength and quickness of her arousal. The physical evidence of it was a big surprise to me; my ex-wife had never responded that way, not towards me at least.

I moved slightly, changing the angle of my prick, and Heather's fingers squeezed my knob inside her. She moaned softly as I slid further into her, pushing her wet walls open. Heather squeezed her muscles around me; squeezing and relaxing in sync with my slow thrusting. I had one arm up underneath her, caressing her breasts, while my other arm was over her body, my hand with hers pressed to her pussy, feeling where our bodies were united as one.

This would have to be one of my favourite positions, somehow there was something rather intimate about being pressed up behind her, and us both touching and feeling where I was entering her. I was amazed at just how wet she was, my shaft was soaking, coated with her juices. Every time we had started to make love since I had arrived, she was already very wet; I had never had any difficulty entering her. She was also very responsive as we were making love; she would move with me; moan loudly, and be vocal about what she wanted me to do to her. All in all, she made me feel like she didn't just want to make love with me, but was totally enjoying the whole experience; her body craved mine inside her, she desired my touch and having me kissing her.

All of these thoughts crossed my mind as I was slowly making love with her; the response and reactions of her body was exciting me more and more; her movements were perfectly in tune with mine; in spite of the number of times we had made love over the previous two days, I could feel another orgasm approaching. Heather was also very aroused, she was moaning softly, encouraging me to keep going, to continue what I was doing, that was close to coming.

"Oh, yes, touch me there, Will, I love feeling your fingers ... Oh yes," she cried out, her body responding to my fingers stroking her wet pussy.

I could feel her muscles squeezing my prick, trying to milk me. I angled my body, trying to make sure my knob would push against her g-spot. She started to moan louder; crying out with pleasure as I pushed deeper inside her.

"Oh, God, YES!" she cried out as her body shook violently.

I had to hold her hips with my hands to keep inside her, so I could continue moving in and out as she came. That was one thing with Heather, I was never in doubt that she had her orgasm; it wasn't just that she was quite vocal, but the reaction of her body made it very obvious what was happening to her. Experiencing her coming as I was inside her was all that it took to take me over the edge; I gripped her hips tightly, pulling her harder against me so I was buried deep inside. I moaned softly as I felt the first hot surge; my body shook with several powerful spasms as I spurted into her.

"Oh, yes, fill me," she cried out. "I can feel your spurts, I love that."

I was too much taken by the power of our orgasms to say anything; I just held her tightly to me as we both continued to shake and shudder. When my orgasm had finished, I reached back down between us, feeling my shaft where it was entering her. I was amazed at just how wet – no, how soakingly wet – her pussy was. I lay there, leaning against her body, breathing heavily, trying to regain my breath.

I slowly pulled out of her, leaving my softening prick resting against her pussy. She sighed as I withdrew from her, and I felt her give one last squeeze of her muscles; squirting my sticky come over my knob and shaft. I heard her giggle slightly; she must have realized what had happened.

"Do you want to get that cream out of you right away?" I asked. I rolled back, and saw my prick all wet with her nectar, and my knob covered in my come. "Now that is something that would make for an interesting photo," I added.

"Mmm, a big hot sausage, with honey and cream?" she asked. "Let me see it."

She rolled over, and reached down to touch my come-covered prick.

"He does look rather tasty," she said. "Let me give him a good morning kiss."

She knelt up on the bed, and bent over my crotch. She had her face close to my cock, and she gave my knob a long, lingering lick.

"That is an interesting mix of flavours," she added. "Honey and cream; we make a great combination."

I kissed her lips, and tasted the mix of our juices on her lips and tongue. It certainly a different taste; not unpleasant, but different. The salty taste of my come almost overpowered the far more subtle taste of her juices, but I could still detect her flavour. I was almost tempted to push her over onto her back, and get between her legs to lick her pussy again, until Heather suggested that we should get up and have a shower.

"I want to get more practice holding you, aiming your stream," she said as she stood up.

While Heather started to run the shower, I have a quick shave – normally I would go without shaving most Sundays, but given we were to meet Heather's family later that day, I want to look reasonably presentable. Besides, I don't want to run the risk of my rough, stubbly jaw and chin irritating the sensitive skin around her pussy.

My face relatively smooth, I stepped into the shower with her. She turned me around, so she was standing behind me, and reached around to hold my shaft, With her other hand, she reached around my other side to gently stroked my balls and the underside of my shaft.

"Ok, are you going to pee for me, so I can aim?" she asked.

This would have to have been one of the strangest things I had ever experienced; it was almost impossible to concentrate, to relax sufficiently to pee, with Heather's fingers holding my prick, and knowing she was watching and actively encouraging me to pee. But I really needed to pee; I hadn't gone all night, and I could feel a big flood waiting to be released. I mean, how hard could it be to tell my body to let go?

Ultimately, my need to relieve myself overcame my shyness. Heather giggled as she moved my steam around, aiming it so that it traced the outline of my toes.

"How can I stop it temporarily?" she asked. "If I'm going to write our initials, how do I stop it between each letter?"

"Just squeeze your thumb and forefinger, here," I said, showing her where to squeeze.

"Don't squeeze too hard though, just enough to block the flow."

"This is fun," she said. "We girls don't know what we are missing out on. I'll have to try to write our initials in the dirt sometime, where I can see exactly how good my aim is."

I suspected that I had somehow created a monster here; however there was something rather enjoyable about having Heather holding me while I was peeing. When I had finished, she shook the last few drops from the tip, and we started to wash each other clean. Having showers together was something that I definitely enjoyed; as did Heather. We tended to linger a considerably longer time in the shower than we would have otherwise, and when we got out and dried ourselves, we were still rather aroused. I planted a kiss on each of her erect nipples, before going back to the bedroom to get dressed.

We took our time over breakfast, since we didn't have to be in Ballina until 11:00, we could delay our departure until just before 10am. If we hadn't made plans to be there for lunch, as well as for me to meet her family, then we could have planned on a lazy drive down the coast, calling into the various towns and beaches on the way. Still, there was plenty of time for Heather to show me some of the other places in the area. Once I had cleared away the breakfast dishes, I went to the bedroom to check my camera; load a fresh roll of film, make sure my had the various lenses and filters in the bag that I would be using later today, and checked the tripod to make sure it was okay. I wanted to get photos of the two of us at the beach; so I would set the camera up on the tripod with the self-timer. I made sure the shutter release cable was at the top of the bag, and I squeezed the button to make sure it ran smoothly. I was hoping that maybe I could get some photos of Heather with the ocean in the background, too.

Just after 9:30 we loaded up Heather's car. As well as my camera bag and tripod, Heather had put in a small bag with some beach towels, a change of clothing if we decided to go for a swim, plus the blow up mattress and some blankets in the back, in addition to the pillows that were already there. She also had a small cooler for some cold cans of soft drink that we put behind the seats. The freezer bricks would keep them cold for most of the day; well, at least for a few hours.

A few minutes later we were on the highway, heading south. Heather had asked me if I objected to her driving, saying that it would make sense as she knew the way, and would be able to point things out to me on the trip. I told her that I had no problems at all with her driving, that I wasn't some misogynist who automatically assumed that all women were hopeless drivers. It made perfect sense that she should drive; her car was better for the longer trips, and she knew just where to go, what roads to take – I would probably end up getting us lost.

I had my right hand resting on her thigh, and after a few minutes Heather shifted slightly, and pushed her legs slightly apart. I moved my hand lower towards her knee, and then slid it back up, this time pushing her skirt up, so my hand was resting on her warm skin. I lazily traced little circles on the inside of her thigh. Heather sighed softly, and wriggled in her seat so that she could spread her legs a bit further apart.

I took her unvoiced hint, and let my fingers move up higher, so I could trace them along the edge of her knickers. I teased her, brushing my fingers across her pussy, pressing gently against the mound of her sex. She let out her breath sharply, almost gasping. I eased a finger under the elasticized edge of her panties, feeling the soft hair, the sliding two fingers across a smooth, moist lip. Her slit was already getting wet, and I touched her swelling clit.

"Oh, my god, that's nice," she moaned. "Careful, I might have to pull over if you keep doing that, you are making it hard to concentrate."

"I wonder where the next roadside rest area might be?" I asked.

"There's one a few miles down the road, I think," she said. "We will have to stop there."

I continued to rub my fingers over her rapidly moistening pussy; she shifted her position, angling her hips forward, so I could touch her more easily. The roadside rest area was just ahead; Heather pulled into it quickly, stopping the car under a large gum tree. She raised her backside up off the seat, and quickly pulled her panties off. Leaning back in her seat, she placed her feet up on the dash, with her legs spread wide. Fortunately there was no one else stopped near us.

I turned around in my seat, and used my other hand to finger her. She closed her eyes, and started moaning softly, rubbing her breasts as I massaged her pussy. She was soaking wet, my fingers were drenched and I put them up to my lips, and sucked her juices from them.

"You are as wet and sweet as usual, Heather," I said, once my fingers had been sucked clean.

"You're not just going to leave me like this," she pleaded with me.

"No, I'm not that mean," I replied, and unbuckled my seat belt so I could lean over to kiss the top of her pussy.

With my face between her legs, she stroked my hair as I licked and sucked her wet slit, feeling her juices really start to flow. I folded the centre console up out of the way, and slid my hand underneath her backside, so my fingers could explore her slit. Her vagina was wet, open to my touch, and I slid first one finger, and then a second inside her. I moved them in and out, stroking the smooth slick walls of her vagina.

"Mmmmm, right there," she moaned as my fingers probed towards her g-spot.

My tongue licked up and down, feeling the smoothness of her slit; the bumpy wetness at her opening, feeling my wet fingers sliding in and out, and the hard nub of her clit, with the soft, downy pubic hair sprouting just about it. I savoured the musky scent of her arousal, the tangy sweet flavour of her juices, and the sensations of her lovely skin against my tongue, lips and cheeks. Heather pressed my head harder against her body, and she cried out softly.

I felt her muscles clench around my fingers, and the extra surge as more of her juices flowed as she started to come. Her pleasure was obvious, not just from her words and sounds, but from the primal reactions of her body.

"Oh, God, that was intense," she said. "Do you think we might be able to..." she left her desire for me to take her unspoken.

I looked around; behind a covered picnic table was a galvanized iron toilet shed. If we were behind that the shed, the trees would obscure us from the road.

"Lean over and hold that railing," I said to her, as soon as we were in position behind the shed. "Hold your skirt up, I'll take you from behind."

I let my shorts and undies drop to my ankles; her sexy backside was exposed to me, and as she spread her legs apart I could see and feel her wet, open pussy. My prick was already hard, and I moved in behind her. I bent my knees so I was at the correct height, and rubbed my knob along her slit. She pushed back, and immediately I was inside her. She gasped as the full length of my prick entered her; I held her hips to steady us, and I started pumping in and out.

"Oh, yes, fuck me, Will," she moaned softly.

"With pleasure, Heather, since you asked so nicely," I replied.

She giggled. "Stop teasing me, you know I need you inside me."

I tensed my muscles, making my knob swell. She responded, squeezing me tightly, and I slid in and out, getting faster and harder; feeling my hips slapping into her backside.

"Oh, God, yes," she moaned. "Fuck me, fuck me harder, like that; I want to feel you spurting inside!"

She was so turned on, so horny, I couldn't help myself. I pulled her hips tightly to me, doing exactly as she instructed. A few more thrusts, she squeezed tightly, and I groaned loudly as I started spurting. Coming inside Heather was a magical experience; my orgasm was incredibly powerful, spurt after spurt, my body shook with the sheer pleasure of coming inside the woman I loved.

Spent, I leant over her body, holding onto the fence railing for stability.

"God, that was something," I gasped.

"It certainly was," she replied. "I can feel you dripping down from me; my legs are so wet and sticky."

I pulled my shorts up, holding them below my soaking cock, and we waddled back to her car. Heather took some of the wipes from her bag, and we cleaned up ourselves as best we could. I took a bottle of water from the cooler, and poured some on the corner of my towel, and wiped her juices off my face, then cleaned up my sticky crotch. She did the same, wiping the mix of our juices from her pussy.

"We don't want to meet your family with us both smelling of sex, do we?" I said. "That might give them the wrong idea about me."

"Or the right idea, actually," she said. "I'm sure my mother suspects we are having sex, I mean, after all, we are both single adults, so why can't we? But you are right, let's not flaunt the fact that you just fucked my brains out by the side of the highway."

"You're not complaining about that, are you, Ms. McFadyen?" I asked her.

"Not at all, Mr. Morris, you can fuck my brains out any time," she replied, smirking at me.


With our clothes back on, and us looking relatively presentable once more, we continued south down the highway. We drove past a number of turnoffs to coastal towns; places that we would most probably explore in great depth over the coming weeks. It would have been nice to actually drive along the ocean front, seeing the water and sand, but the highway remained several miles inland. One place in particular I wanted to see was Byron Bay, even if only to say I was at the eastern-most point on the Australian mainland.

"That's become very trendy lately," Heather explained. "Like a number of places, I guess it was taken over by the first wave of people escaping from Sydney, what are they called now –'sea changers'? They still want all the cultural trappings of Sydney, but without the crowds and bad traffic."

"Yes, didn't Paul Hogan move up there at one stage?" I replied.

"He did, and that attracted other people, too," she said. "What it has done is push up house prices to crazy levels; maybe a few years ago you could get a cottage close to the water for $40,000 or so – not any more. But you can get a fancy cappuccino, or eat at a trendy restaurant, buy designer swim wear."

"I guess it was similar to the changes in the 1970's, when the hippies and counter culture people moved up here," I suggested.

"Well, similar and different," she replied. Those people generally wanted to escape the rat race, live close to the land, be self-sufficient. At least the ones who established communes, places like that. The latest people want all the trappings of society; as I heard someone say, they want the rats but without the races. People with far too much money; who really don't know what to do with it."

"In a sense, all of the migration from Sydney and Brisbane has changed the nature of some of the towns here. I remember them as working towns, supporting the local industries; fishing, farming, timber mills. Of course, in the summer they were also holiday destinations, and there were some people, mainly retired folks, who moved here, but they were pretty much the same as they had been for decades. But the holiday makers were just average families, not the rich and trendy types that are here now ... That started to change maybe ten years ago; Byron Bay has been the worst, but also Ballina, Evans Head. Brunswick Heads; they are now yuppie playgrounds, people with too much money, wanting to change the whole character of the area."

Her comments made me wonder just how she might adapt moving to Sydney; the masses of people, the congestion, everything that would come with living there. Maybe my parent's suggestion of her coming down and staying there with me for a few weeks would be a good idea.

I decided that if we were going to make this work, I couldn't make Heather do things, or move, or live somewhere that she wasn't happy about. It would have to be her decision, her initiative what we chose to do. I had made the mistake before of assuming that my first wife would be happy to fit her life around what I wanted to do, to live where I was, and to put aside any plans or dreams she had of her own. I wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

"So, does that mean you would want to live in a place that was similar to how Ballina was maybe ten or fifteen years ago?" I asked.

"No, not necessarily," she replied. "Remember, for a few years I lived in Avalon, and I liked that, and I think I would like living in Sydney with you, there are lots of things to do there, places to see, stuff that we can do together. I would like us to be somewhere not too far from the water though; we don't have to be right on the beach, but not miles and miles away."

"I'm sure we can find somewhere suitable," I said. "I agree with you; I wouldn't want to be miles away from the ocean." We had pulled up in front of her mother's place – despite our "diversion", we had made good time; it was a few minutes before 11:00.

"Do I look ok?" she asked me, once we had got out of the car.

"You look very desirable, give me a few minutes and I'll be ready for a second round of what we had earlier," I said.

"You know what I meant," she said. "Do I have that 'just fucked' look?"

"No, you look fine," I said. "And me?"

"You are good, too; I'm sure no one will suspect what you did to me on the way down," she said.

"What I did?" I said, emphasizing the "I". "So you had nothing to do with what we did?" "No, you started it, touching my leg, and rubbing me as I was driving," she said.

"You could have said "No", and I would have stopped," I said, as we walked up to the front door.

"And why would I ever want you to stop doing things like that to me?" she said. "Now we have to try to be good for the next few hours."

"Ok, I'll be good," I said, as I reached over to squeeze her backside.

"Stop that!" she hissed, as she rang the doorbell. "You cheeky bugger!"


Late afternoon we were back in the car, exploring Ballina. Things had gone well with Heather's family, as I expected I got the third degree; what sort of job I had, where did I live, and her Aunt asked me what my plans were for Heather.

"Do you want to know whether I'll make an honest woman of her," I replied. "Are my intentions completely honourable?"

Heather blushed at that, telling her Aunt not to pry.

"No, that's okay," I replied. "They need to know what we are planning on doing. To be honest, we haven't made any firm decisions yet. We've both just gone through divorces, and I know I don't want to rush headlong into anything else. The whole purpose of me visiting Heather is to see just how well we get on; we fell in love back in 1975, but we were still kids then, and a lot has changed over the years. Assuming we get through these next few weeks and still love each other, then my parents have asked her to stay with me there for a few weeks, so she can reacquaint herself with Sydney, and we can look around and see where me might want to live."

"But as far as any definite plans, no, we are still thinking about what we might want to do, so it's all up in the air at the moment."

Heather squeezed my hand at my answer, but didn't add any comments of her own.

"And what about John and James, would they move to Sydney with you?" her mother asked.

"That's something we haven't talked about, but as I understand things, James is living with his father, and I'm not sure we would want to deal with changing the custody arrangements, and as far as John goes, he's got his daughter and her mother as his responsibility," I replied. "We don't want to disrupt anyone else's life." "And you are financially able to support her?" The questions kept coming. "Yes, I'm just waiting for the sale of my previous house in Frenchs Forest to be finalized, which should be sometime around the middle of January, but all of the property settlement has been sorted out, there are no alimony or child support payments, so depending on what we decide to do, we could look around the Northern Beaches area for a place to buy and live in."

Now, I had been through a number of grueling job interviews in my time, but this was tougher that any interview I had experienced in my life. Heather's mother, Aunt and Stepfather tag-teamed through lunch, wanting to know every job I had had, places I had lived in, why my previous marriage had failed, what my parents did, even whether Heather and I would be sleeping on the one bed when she was staying there with me. ("Mum!" Heather exclaimed. "I'm not a teenage kid anymore! Now just what do you think the arrangements are while he's up at my place?" and she promptly turned bright red)

I guess I must have passed the test, because at the end, her mother welcomed me back in Heather's life.

"I'm so glad you and Heather got back in touch," she said. "I remember back when we moved up here, she was so miserable, so distraught at leaving you. Barry and I both suspected there was something different between you and other boys she had been interested in. I sometimes wondered just how things might have ended up had you two remained in contact back then."

I just smiled and made some polite comment, leaving unsaid my thoughts of "Well, had I come up and visited that summer, your sweet teenaged daughter and I probably would have been fucking like rabbits, given half a chance." There are some things that a mother just doesn't need to know about her daughter and her daughter's boyfriend.

Anyway, with that behind us, Heather proceeded to show me around Ballina. We drove past her high school, around the shopping district, then down to the river mouth, where we walked along the breakwater. The tide was high, and the water at the Richmond River bar was calm. We then drove up the road that was right next to the ocean beach, until we pulled off into a gravel car park. There were only two other cars there, so we walked the short distance down the sandy path to the beach. So, this was the Flat Rock Beach that I had written about, and described so graphically our imagined encounter there last night to Heather. It seemed pretty close to how I had imagined it to be; a long expanse of sand, the low dunes covered with scrubby bushes, the odd beach fisherman trying his luck, standing in the waves. No one was here swimming or surfing, it was probably too far from the main area to attract all but the dedicated few. The surf wasn't all that inspiring; disorganized waves just breaking close to the shore. Nothing that looked worth riding, anyway – maybe at low tide the conditions would be better.

"Would you like me to take some photos of you on the sand?" I asked her.

"Yes, provided we can get some of the two of us," she replied. "How do you want me to pose?"

"You're wearing your bikini, aren't you?" I asked. "What if you take your tee shirt and skirt off."

She stripped off her clothes, and I got the camera out of the bag. I checked the exposure, made sure everything was set correctly, and told her to sit on the sand with her legs curled around her. I knelt down, and took a shot.

"That looks good," I said. "What if you lean back a bit more?"

The sun was lighting up her body; and I wanted to get some of the ocean behind her. I took another two as she leant back.

"Now, what if you take that bikini top off, and turn around, so I get your back?" I suggested. "Look out to the ocean, as if you are thinking about going for a swim." She undid her bikini top, and turned around so her back was to me.

"You don't want to get photos showing my breasts?" she asked.

"Well, that's up to you," I said. "Remember, I have to put them into the lab to get processed. And we would have to remember to take those ones, and the negatives out of the packet, so no one else saw them accidentally."

"I wouldn't mind, it's not as if they would get plastered up anywhere," she said. "It would be nice to have some like that, just for us to look at. Unless you don't want to take them?"

I took one of her back, and then checked the camera settings. Four shots so far, and given that they tend to cut the negatives into sets of four, I could take four topless ones, and keep them apart from the others.

"Ok, let's get some," I said. "What if you stand up here, hands behind you, with your arms straight?"

She struck the pose I suggested, and I turned her slightly so she was at an angle to the sunlight. I didn't want the harsh shadows that the afternoon sun was making.

"Beautiful, now bend your left knee," I instructed as I took some photos. The golden light made her breasts look exceptionally lovely.

"Now let's get some of us together, you without your shirt on, sitting with me," she said.

I set up the tripod, and turned on the self-timer. For the first shot, Heather would sit on the sand, and I would be kneeling behind her, my arms around her breasts. I would have ten seconds from when I pressed the shutter until the camera took the photo; plenty of time to get in position. I took my tee shirt off, brushed my hair, then double checked that the camera was lined up, and pressed the shutter release. I quickly ran around to get in behind Heather, wrapped my arms around her breasts, and waited for the camera to fire.

"More?" she suggested. "I love feeling your arms around me like that, even though you are covering my breasts."

I stood up, wound on the film and took another three similar shots, each from a slightly different position or degree of zoom. While we had been taking the photos, I noticed that several of the people fishing had left the beach; maybe they were the people from the other vehicles in the car park.

I took the camera off the tripod, and packed it up. We walked slowly back to Heather's car; she hadn't bothered putting her clothes back on, since there wasn't anyone else around. We walked arm in arm – my hand was tucked inside Heather's bikini bottoms, and as we walked I felt her buttocks moving under my hand. She had her hand in a similar position, inside my swimmers. The car park was now deserted; we were the only people left at the beach.

 
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