Little Surfer Girl

The sun is hot on my back. My hair is thick from the seawater. The stiff board under my body buoys me as I patiently wait for the next set of waves to come in.

And then I see it — the first wave starting to form in the distance. My heart starts to race and I decide to try for it, even though I can tell it is going to be one of the biggest of the afternoon.

I turn and paddle hard. The wave comes from up behind me. I feel the board start to tip forward, dropping down the face of the wave. I jump up, a little too eagerly, and catch the edge of my board. My body sucks in a big breath of air as it instinctively knows I’m going over.

I tumble and struggle not to hit the coral reef below. The leash is ripped off my ankle, which gives me more freedom to pause in the calm beneath the wave.

I surface in time to see my board cartwheeling in the wave towards the beach. It’s then I realize that the top of my bathing suit has gone with it as well. Damn, it was one of my favorites.

The second and third waves in the set are close behind, and I spend the next few minutes swimming, diving, and ducking beneath each. Finally, the calm between sets arrives.

I take a look around and survey my options — the beach is a good quarter mile swim. There are no boats or boards anywhere nearby to flag down.

Just as I’m resigning to swimming back being my only option, a sea turtle pokes his head above the surface of the water, just a few feet from me. He has a more curious expression on his face than other turtles I have seen. We look at each other for a few minutes. It’s almost as if he understands my predicament. Loneliness and disappointment come over me as he disappears beneath the water.

I turn towards shore and start paddling. But within two strokes, he re-appears, this time with the back of his shell pointed towards me — reminding me of the position a father on the playground would take as he offers his toddler a ride. Feeling the thrill of his return, I reach out gently to touch his shell, and he doesn’t move. I hook my fingers under the lip of his shell just behind his neck, and he begins to dive.

He doesn’t go deep, at least not for very long. I’m able to reach my head up for air when I need it. But I do my best to produce as little drag for him as possible. After a few minutes, he finds a rhythmic beat of his fins. I can feel the slight current generated by his forward momentum, gliding across my half naked body.

Up… down… up… down…. I go into an almost meditative state, feeling the pulse of his strokes and the current of water against my hard nipples.

I’m almost startled when his pace slows to a stop. I pull my face fully out of the water and wipe my eyes to look around. He has taken me further offshore and up the coast slightly to a small sand bar surrounded by coral out in the middle of the bay. I release my grip on his shell and climb up onto the sand. He joins me on the sand, and I feel as if a lover has taken me to their favorite bench in the park to make out. I decide to honor this gift he’s given me by enjoying my time there, before figuring out how to get back.

I recline in the sandy shallows with my knees to the sun, and my head resting on the bottom so that the water covers my ears and comes up to my cheekbones. The waves gently lap across my body and up between my legs. Since I’ve already lost the top half of my suit, I decide to abandon the bottoms as well. Without the fabric barrier, the small waves hitting my pussy make my body alive with sensation. I savor the cool breeze on my breasts, my skin baking in the sun, my hair gently flowing in the water, the water’s gentle kiss on my clit with each wave that passes.

With my ears underwater, I can hear the sound of sand being tossed in the waves and the clicking of small fish swimming amongst the coral. I also hear that same, slow rhythmic beating of the turtle’s strokes. I think about the turtle next to me, and wonder if I’m hearing his lover approaching — coming to meet him at their secret, sunny, sandy spot.

The slow strokes stop what sounds like just a few feet from my head. When no turtle splashes its way onto the sand with us, I sit up to investigate. I turn around to see an olive-skinned surfer floating nearby on his long board, shifting his gaze between me and the turtle.

“Can I take you back to shore?”

My mind takes a few moments to process his request. Who is this? Did he find my lost board? Or maybe my bathing suit? How did he find me? And where am I exactly?

Eventually, my brain and body connect again after being in what felt like an alternative universe. I place my hand on the turtle one more time to share my gratitude for the ride, and to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

I look back to the surfer and see he has turned the board and himself towards the shore, ready and waiting for me. Without words, I leave the sandy paradise and swim towards him. He watches me over his shoulder as I mount the board and kneel behind him.

He begins the long paddle back. Right… left… right… left. I find myself drifting into the meditative state again with his rhythmic strokes.

My body has never felt more alive and aroused. The sun, the salt, the heat, the cool, the water, the sand. First the otherworldly ride holding on to the hard, bumpy shell of the turtle, and now watching the toned, tanned back of a silent stranger paddling me to shore. Again, I’m almost startled when his strokes stop. He pauses to rest.

After a few moments, I crawl towards him on the board. I pause as the front of my knees touch the top of his ass. With two fingers I touch him at the base of his neck. He sits motionless as I trace slowly down his spine until I reach the top of his bathing suit. I scoop my fingers under the band of his suit, holding for a brief moment, comparing how soft this feels as compared to my hold on the turtle’s shell.

I run my fingers along underneath the band, circumnavigating his strong core, stopping when I reach the line of hair that runs south from his belly button. I reach my other hand around and untie the cord on his shorts.

I feel him slowly lean to one side and slip off the board, disappearing under the water. I look around to see if I can spot him, and am jolted when his shorts fly out of the water and splash down on the surface of his board. As I continue to wait for his naked body to surface, I lie face down on the board. Eventually, his surfer lungs can’t hold out any longer and he surfaces at the back of the board.

He pulls himself up just behind me. I open my legs so my feet are hanging off either side of the board and he pulls his wet, cold body up across my warm, dry skin — I am convinced I hear sizzling.

As he lies on my back, he begins to kiss my neck and shoulders. I can feel myself getting wet and his cock growing hard as it is pressed against my body. He slides his legs in between mine. I’m not sure whether his penis penetrated me, or my pussy pulled him in, but I can tell the intense pleasure is mutually shared.

As slowly and methodically as his paddling strokes, he thrusts into me. In… out… in… out… Slow, rhythmic, deep…. but not deep enough. I want more, and he has more to give.

I slowly push myself to my belly and open my legs further and he follows my movement. Our legs straddle the board. We shift without losing our connection until he is on his back, and I am lying on top of him with my feet dangling in the water on either side of the board. He pulls his knees up, so he can use his feet against the board to push and his hands on my hips to pull, and he works himself deeper into me.

He pulses. The ocean waves rock the board. The sun and wind tease my nipples. My mind is quiet as all I can do is to feel my body.

My waves of orgasm come in a set. He rides each one with skill and grace — knowing when to pulse hard, when to pause, and when to push deep. One… two… three.

When the calm after the orgasmic set comes, I sit up, and slowly lean to the side and slip off the board. My turn for a swim. I feel contrast of the slippery wetness of my pussy compared to the sticky wetness of the ocean.

When I surface, I see him smiling and stroking his still hard cock. I pull myself up behind him on the board and straddle my legs so I can push my breasts into his back. I reach down and borrow some of the slippery wetness from my pussy, and add it to my wetness still lingering on his cock. I stroke him as his grips the side of the board. Inspired by the day, I move slowly, rhythmically. I feel his orgasm in my hand as well as in my belly and chest as it travels up his body.

I hold him, resting my head on his back, and we watch the cum on the board slowly mix with the waves that crest the board.

When I finally release him, he shifts his body forward, and begins to paddle us back to shore.

By Silky
October 2015

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