Ben ran his big hand lightly up Marcie’s thigh to her hip, feeling the soft warmth of her skirt’s pleated cotton under his fingertips. Remembering her earlier remark, he asked, “So may I ask, if we’ve filled our tummies, is it time for more kissing now?”

“Aye,” she replied with a sly smile as she imitated his affirmation, “I guess it must be.”

She let Ben plant a brief peck on her bare lips, still damp and greasy from her lunch, then deliberately twisted away from him. She grasped his rucksack, tucking the Playmobil figure away before squashing and pulling its stuffing of coats into a shape that satisfied her better, then she propped it on the edge of the blanket as an improvised pillow. With that in place and Ben still leaning over her, she wriggled her bottom down the slope, then gave a luxuriant stretch as she lay back, drawing out a deeply contented sigh.

Ben took a moment to appreciate the situation he found himself in, alone with Marcie in the great outdoors with his hunger somewhat satisfied, filled with the tender feelings of the fascinating love that had brought them so close, especially in this moment. She had no makeup on now behind her glasses, and her hair was still pinned back quite neatly, despite a few stray hairs from the gusting winds on their walk. With this appearance, she could almost be ready to walk straight into her workplace, filling her modest professional role within the university. It was a stark contrast to the way that she’d dressed and made herself up for him that morning, with the sexually provocative costume, worn without any underwear beneath her indecently short dress, and the red lipstick that she’d got on his penis. Yet she seemed just as seductive to him now, reclining on their picnic blanket against the sloping sand, with a calm smile and a knowing twinkle in her deep brown eyes beneath her lowered eyelashes.

As he returned something of that smile, he slowly breathed in the sea-scented air, feeling its stillness, sheltered by the dune. He was distantly aware of his nagging weather senses, that the air’s freshness perhaps hinted at rain, and he recalled his thought that there may be a change drifting down with the broken clouds. He glanced over his shoulder to their view through the notch in the dunes over the sea, taking in the wide sky over it, but he couldn’t see the tell-tale sweep of falling rain, so he put his worries aside.

Marcie perhaps misinterpreted his check as she raised her hand to his chin and asked, “Are you making sure we’ve not got an audience? I wouldn’t worry. We didn’t pass anyone else after we passed that white obelisk, did we?”

“No, I was checking the sky actually, for incoming rain,” Ben admitted, “But I think you’re right, that we’re on our own. Listen.” They both froze, barely breathing as they opened their ears. They could hear the whisper of the wind in the tough grass on the fringe of the dune just above them, and further off the intermittent calls of birds all around them. The cries of seagulls and the melody of the skylark were familiar to Ben, but the pips and chirrups of the other species that populated this remote shore were a mystery. Marcie was grinning up at him inquisitively as he looked into her eyes, taking it all in, then he whispered, “Nothing, but the sounds of nature.”

“And we’re creatures of nature too, aren’t we? Warm-blooded mammals in our cosy nook, like a hare’s form scraped out of the sand, children of Eostre,” Marcie murmured, burying her fingers in the hair at the back of his scalp. Then she let her lips twitch in a subtle pout, which Ben immediately seized as his cue. He sank onto his elbows across her, pressing his hips to her thigh and putting his mouth to hers, just barely brushing her lips as he deeply inhaled the warm scent of her. He perceived the hint of her earthy citrus perfume, as well as the soapiness of her clean skin and the lingering pungency of her creamy fishy lunch. In all this, she seemed irresistibly delicious as he finally pressed his lips firmly to hers, letting their touch linger as he felt her tongue just brush the edge of his parted mouth.

Ben relished the sensation of Marcie’s playfully intimate kiss, aware that they were hovering at the edge of something more intense, both just resisting the urge to give in to their shared passionate energy. Meanwhile, with his weight on one elbow, sinking into the sand beneath the blanket a little, he found he could move a free hand to stroke Marcie’s body. He placed his palm against the side of her ribcage beneath her raised arm, feeling a dampness to the blouse’s coarse cotton there from the perspiration she’d mentioned earlier. Then he boldly stroked his hand across her chest, deliberately moving it over the soft mound of her full breast, squeezing her very gently and exploring the unseen curve of her cleavage with the pressure of his thumb, feeling the hard lump of her pendant buried there.

As he held her breast in his big hand, Ben realised that Marcie perhaps felt some of the arousal that he knew was rising within him at this caressing stroke, as she vocalised a kind of tiny pleading groan, prompting him to finally give in to his instincts and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She immediately responded in kind, eagerly lapping at his mouth, her jaw wide and working in a chewing motion. Ben was aware of the tastes of their shared salty lunch and the sharp wine that were still on her, even as he thrilled with the pleasure of his indulgence in their uninhibited animal hunger for each other.

He was aware that his hand was compulsively kneading her breast now, his palm sliding her blouse’s thin cotton over the slippery fabric of her bra, whilst the muscles down the core of his abdomen urgently pushed his hips firmly against her, pressing his rising erection to her body even through their clothes. Yet despite the instinctual power that drove his movements, he felt the assurance that nothing he did was too forceful. Rather, Ben felt as if he was acting from a sense of reverential wonder and sympathetic delight to be so deeply within Marcie’s personal space. And it seemed she was responding to this in kind, even as their hungry mutually penetrative kiss rolled on. She still had one hand clasped to the crown of his head, tangled in his hair and holding him to her, but her other hand had snaked out beneath him as he pressed down her, and now it had found the gap beneath his loose shirt, letting her rub her fingertips sensuously across the bare skin of his back.

Ben found himself imitating her, quickly finding the hem of her blouse so that he could slip his hand beneath, brushing the smooth skin of her stomach above her skirt’s waistband, moving higher until his fingertips brushed her bra. Still kissing, his breath coming faster through his flared nostrils now, he caressed the warm satin cushion of her breast’s rising curve, traced the line of her bra cup’s lace trim, then made a kind of scratching motion against the point where he thought her nipple must be. Indeed, he felt he was in the right place as his fingertips felt the softer area that must be her areola beneath the satin, as well as the subtle impression of a sensitive creased bump.

As he stroked her just there, Marcie inhaled sharply through her nose. Their wet lips slipped messily apart, and Ben drew back a little in response to her slight tug on his hair. His hand froze, covering the lower part of her silkily cupped breast, as she whispered, “Oh Ben, I want you to go further.”

“I want that too,” he murmured in reply, with only the vaguest idea of just how far she might mean. As his imagination ran away with him, he thought aloud, “But we should still be careful. I don’t want to risk exposure, well, a public indecency offence, whatever you’d call it. I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed either, you know, if some walkers wandered by.”

Marcie looked up with a saucy smile as she explained, “That’s partly why I chose baggy clothes today. There’s plenty of space to rummage around under them, as you’re already finding out, without actually taking them all off. Let me get up a moment and I’ll demonstrate.”

Ben pushed himself up into a sitting position beside Marcie, his bum sinking into the sand beneath the blanket a little. He felt the heat in his cheeks from his raised heart rate, as well as the awkward pressure of his erection twisted under his boxer shorts and jeans, and he felt a bit sorry to have broken away from Marcie, but he was intrigued by what she had in mind. She didn’t hesitate to put her plan into action though as she sat up herself, pulling her feet in to find a cross-legged position alongside Ben’s own bent knees. She was still holding Ben’s gaze with a cheeky smile as she put her hands to her back, beneath her blouse. Ben realised she was unhooking her bra, then he watched as she wriggled her shoulders and slipped each hand under the front of her blouse, to slip off her bra straps Ben guessed. Then she pulled each arm in through her loose sleeves, to work herself free and completely remove her bra in a concealed way. Finally she pushed her arms back through her sleeves and was slipping the tangle of ivory satin and lace out from under her blouse.

Marcie’s steady gaze hardened into a kind of serious intensity as she passed the small bundle over. He’d put his big rough hand out to eagerly take it, then felt its soft warm as she said, “We’ll take care of these, as it would be too rude to walk back without putting them back on.”

Ben agreed, acknowledging her seriousness, wondering why she’d said “these” rather than “this”, even as he briefly dropped his gaze to look for any change to her chest’s appearance. In that instant he saw with guilty pleasure that her breasts did indeed seem to hang lower and wider beneath the blouse’s loose white cotton, and he thought he could even see the outline of her areolae’s darker circles through the thin fabric. He was eager to touch her again, to stoke her bare breasts and nipples directly, but he wondered what do to with the bra that she’d just handed him, so he asked, “Shall I put this away then, in a rucksack pocket?”

But she was already wriggling about again, fiddling about with her hands around and then under the hem of her skirt as she arranged it over her knees and boosted her bottom up. With a wave of visceral excitement, Ben realised what she was doing as she said, “Just wait for these too.”

Sure enough, she brought down the ivory white knickers that she’d been wearing, carefully pulling them over her bare sandy feet, accomplishing all this without revealing more than a flash of her bare shins. Ben took these from her respectfully too, feeling a little dizzy at the thought of being able to touch her vulva directly as they lay together on this exposed dune, if that’s what she had in mind. He glanced at them, seeing now that she’d been wearing these smart satin knickers with their lace panel to match her bra, but he resisted the temptation to make a show of raising them indulgently to his nose, as he might have done if they were genuinely somewhere private.

Ben found himself sincerely murmuring, “Thank you.” Then he leaned toward the rucksack to zip them safely away, just as Marcie stretched out her legs, straightening her skirt with the pretence of modesty, before reclining back onto her elbow.

“You’re welcome,” Marcie said playfully as she settled back on her improvised pillow, prompting Ben to stretch out and sink onto his elbow beside her once again. She put her hand out to the side of his head and raised her chin briefly, as if beckoning him, then said, “So lover boy, are you going to pick up where you left off, or what?”

“I would like that,” Ben admitted as he cuddled up against her, laying his hand softly against her breast as he put his lips to her. He brushed the cotton across her nipple with small back and forth movements of his fingers, feeling its rise clearly through the fabric beneath his fingertips, much to his own excitement. Marcie made contented “hmm” sounds, but their kisses were less intense than earlier, her lips just glancing across his. Following his intuition, he let his mouth wander, kissing her nose, her cheeks, her forehead, the edge of her eye beneath the arm of her glasses, her ear and then her neck.

Ben had sunk onto his side now against blanket, forming a depression in the hard sand beneath, cuddling up under Marcie’s nearest arm. He’d stealthily moved his hand to the edge of her blouse, then beneath it, moving carefully so as not to push it up as he ran the flat of his palm over her warm soft stomach. As his kisses nuzzled against her neck along her jawline, his fingertips traced the wide curve of her naked breast. The skin seemed thin beneath his touch, and he fancied he could even feel a scatter of tiny goosebumps, before he felt himself brush first the softly wrinkled texture of her areola and then the sturdy rising knob of her nipple. The sensations of touching Marcie’s feminine form so intimately delighted him, bringing a firm pressure to his hidden erection, and he hoped she was enjoying the reciprocal sensations as he began systematically caressing her nipple and the surrounding area with gentle dragging strokes.

Marcie had dropped her hand from Ben’s head, to relax her arm beside her he guessed, and he was not surprised when he heard Marcie’s dreamy voice spring quietly to life just above him, sharing her speculative thoughts at this intimate moment. He listened as he kept kissing her neck and stroking her breast, “Hmm, Ben. Looking up into the sky, feeling all tingly, it reminds me. You said earlier you felt as if we were beings of the air, because we’re still high on the bliss of falling in love maybe. I feel that as well, right now especially, but I think you also meant it to be in contrast with what we feel normally, as solid creatures of the land, in our heavy bodies, held down by gravity, wearily stumping on through everyday life. But there’s plenty to get excited about in our earthy bodies, here and now, isn’t there? I can feel my weight firm against the sand, and it’s comforting. It’s my body that’s still tasting and feeling the physical satisfaction of eating too, and it’s getting hungry for other carnal satisfactions now, for fucking, if we’re being honest here. But there were the fantastic stories from the sea that we talked about as well, weren’t we? I can just hear the surf rolling in down there and I’m wondering, perhaps I can also feel that sea within me right now, the salt of my blood’s currents, pumped by my eager heart’s pulse, and pulled by the Moon just as the tides are. Is there a lapping rhythm to the gentle waves on my shore too?”

Ben had been listening intently even whilst he’d been giving his attention to Marcie’s beguiling body. At one level he was absorbed in the feeling of her warm yielding breast beneath his stretched hand, and of the silken nape of her neck beneath his lips, as he burrowed against her bony clavicles below her blouse’s collar with its rough embroidery. Yet at another level he recognised the profound truth of her words. He stilled his hand and raised his head to say, “Aye, it’s true. We’re creatures of the sea, as well as the Earth and sky. It’s like they make our hearts, our bodies and our souls.”

“Hmm, I like that,” Marcie said. Ben had noticed that she’d seemed to be fidgeting beneath him as he’d pressed his face and hand close to her. He realised her twitching motion was continuing when he’d stilled, and now he glanced down to see that her hand lay in her lap, rhythmically massaging at the pit in the fabric between her thighs. He was surprised that she might already be deliberately masturbating herself, even whilst coming up with these brilliantly colourful ideas, but he did not comment on it, as she went on, “Hearts, bodies and souls, they are what we bring, what we share in our love, aren’t they? They come first and last, more important than our minds, our chattering overly clever rational thoughts. Or maybe it’s all mind really, for without that our emotions, our senses and our passionate intent would be lost and meaningless.”

“That’s more than I was thinking,” Ben admitted, between his resumed soft quick kisses on her neck and jawline. His hand was now gently stroking wide lazy circles across her chest, around her breast, across her ribs and along her cleavage, feeling the warmed hard lump of the silver hammer pendant resting there. He managed to explain his own ideas a little more though, “When you said sea, sky and land, and I said heart, soul and body, I thought of other things. The sea is our blood, as you say. The sky is that air in our lungs, and the light of our love, what you called our intent, guiding our way into the heavens. So the land, the Earth, that must be our bones, more than anything else in our bodies. Our skeletons are like the rocks, the solid foundations, and then, when the blood stills and the light goes out, they’re buried, our material being lingering on after death, ready for archaeologists to find and tell our stories. So there are colours too, really basic primitive colours, like in rock art. It’s red for our blood, white for the light, and black for our buried bones.”

“Mother of God, Ben, you have such insightful thoughts!” Marcie sighed, “Your intuition goes deep into the core of the human experience, the collective unconscious of gods and archetypes and art and ritual, I think. We should paint our naked bodies in red, white and black, like the natural savages of prehistory, to dance our love with the shamanic spirits, to celebrate our precious life! I remember what you said this morning, that I could be your guide at death, your psychopomp I think it’s called. But you know we’ve passed through that gate, right? You had your brush with life’s fragility, but that’s behind us, and now it’s only there to make us realise how important our love is, to strengthen the power of our passion, to delight ourselves in its profoundly deep roots, even as they’re still growing.”

“Aye, our love was born in that moment, from that crisis, in a way,” Ben mused, “And you’re right, I’m not really worried at all. I don’t think my lungs will suddenly fail now, that I might die in your arms. But I’m aware of my mortality, our mortality now, and as you say, it makes me realise how precious this is, this love, this intimacy right here and now.”

“Hmm, yes, intimacy. That’s what this is. I know you’ve been turned on here, maybe because I’ve encouraged you to fondle my boob. I’ve noticed your heavy breathing and the hard-on you’ve been pressing against me,” Marcie said, and Ben was about to apologetically confirm it, but he heard her draw breath as if she had something else to say. Then, after a moment’s pause, she finally admitted in a low voice, “And maybe you’ve noticed that I’m getting more and more turned on too, from your touch and just from your close presence beside me, here beneath the sky, beside the sea. So maybe you noticed that I couldn’t resist the itch that I felt, in that chalice of my blood’s tides? Despite what you’ve already done for her this morning, or perhaps because of that, Vixen is aching to melt again. I’m ashamed and I feel so naughty, but I want to really rub her, to feel those lapping waves course through me, crashing into foamy surf. Do you mind?”

“Of course not!” Ben assured her, confirming, “I’d like to help, if you don’t mind my fumbling. I still think we’re okay, that no one is around, but did you want to do it under your skirt?”

“Yes!” Marcie said eagerly, “I could keep it over my knees if I lie back like this. But you do so much for me, like this morning’s treat, and it’s your birthday. I want to give you a treat too. Did you want to get Roddie out for me to play too with while we’re here?”

“Aye, that would be nice,” Ben admitted with a big smile, propping himself up over her and withdrawing his hand from her breast for now as he went on, “But it’s harder, isn’t it? No pun intended! I mean, if we’re rolling around here, with my hand under your skirt, someone might see us and suspect, but they’ll see no more than your bare ankles, maybe. But if I get Roddie out and they see, well, that really is public indecency, isn’t it? Also, if you started playing, you know, erm, masturbating me, I don’t know if I could stop, if I’d know when, or if I’d want to. And if I come, if I ejaculate, I make a much bigger mess than you, than Vixen’s melting waves.”

“That’s okay,” Marcie reassured him as she reclined on the blanket with her skirt over her raised knees, smiling too as her hand lay still in her lap, “You can spill a little semen on me, on my clothes, wherever you like. It all comes out in the wash, and it’s not like we’re going for tea with the Queen straight after this little picnic, is it? Also, I was going to say that I’d brought some gel too. I popped it into my handbag just in case. I’m not sure I’ll need it, but it’s always better to be too slippery than too dry, isn’t it? I’ll find it in a moment, but that might end up dripping on our clothes too, making more of a mess than Vixen on her own. But then if anyone sees us walking later and notices stains on our clothes, well, it might be a bit of spilt cream cheese from our lunch or a snotty sneeze or bird poo or anything at all really. They can think what they like about a pair of strangers, and if they think the worst, they can only blame themselves for their suspicious smutty minds. I understand what you’re saying about getting Roddie out on a public nature reserve though. He can get quite big and colourful, and we wouldn’t want to scare old spinsters or confuse passing boats, would we? Could we hide him under my skirt too?”

“How do you mean?” Ben asked, wondering at how he might open his belt and unbutton his flies to press his swollen penis against her hip under the pulled-up hem of her skirt.

“What if I got on top of you, might that work?” Marcie asked with an uncertain giggle. She explained, “I don’t want to squash you, but if you were on your back where I am now and I lay with my back against you, I could maybe put my bum on your hips and spread my knees a bit so Roddie could stick up just below Vixen, and they would both still be covered by my big baggy skirt, and there would be plenty of room for us both to muddle around underneath. Would that work?”

“We can try it,” Ben said eagerly, grinning foolishly despite his uncertainty, he suspected, as he felt a warm anticipation in his rising heart rate.

Marcie immediately sprung into motion, straightening her legs and pushing herself up, then wriggling sideways as she sat, directing him to lie down in just the same place that she’d been in while she found the gel. Ben complied with her instructions as she rummaged in the bag, feeling the firm sand beneath the rug pressing into his shoulders and the warmth left by Marcie’s own body as he lay back, keeping his head up as she worked behind him. Only a moment later, she announced she’d found her prize, then Ben heard her clipped up the rucksack again and knock it about, perhaps to plump it back into pillowy shape, before she told him to lean back. He felt a little wave of dizziness as he tilted his head right back against the crude stuffing of the rough rucksack and looked up into the broken clouds, but it passed as he took a deliberately slow breath. Then, looking into Marcie’s kind smiling face as she sat on her folded legs beside him, he wondered aloud about whether to take any of his own clothes off, but she suggested he could just push his jeans and boxer shorts down for her.

For a moment he considered jumping up again from his relaxed position to scan the horizon for unexpected visitors, but he decided to trust to fate now as he went into modest motion himself. He quickly pulled his shirt up over his bellybutton, undid his belt and buttons, pushed his hips up, and then boldly shoved his trousers down. He’d deliberately tangled his fingers in the waist of his boxer shorts as he did this, so that as he slipped everything down over his thighs, his thickly swollen penis was exposed in its thicket of hair. As a thrilling waft of cool air touched it, it immediately began straightening out from the awkward curl that it had been forced into while he’d still been dressed. Feeling a little ashamed of what he’d done by getting this obscene evidence of his masculine desire out in public, he passed his hand over it, easing it up so that it lay at an angle across his abdomen.

“Good,” Marcie said with an impish grin as she looked down his body, “I’m glad you brought him along too for our day out. Now let’s see if I can find a position where I’m not squashing the life out of you.”

Still gripping the familiar tube of lubricating gel that she’d brought along in one hand, she pushed herself onto all fours, then twisted crabwise, planting her hands and feet down heavily around Ben’s prone body, straining a little as she pushed herself up over him. Ben felt the cotton of her skirt drag across the bare skin of his thighs and penis in a delightful way as she anxiously asked if what she was doing was all right. Ben eagerly reassured her, then she urgently told him to lift her skirt so that she could put her bare bum straight down on him. Ben quickly complied, tugging at the pleated fabric until it lay across his stomach over his own rucked-up shirt, its edges pooled up by his hips, all hiding Marcie’s own bare hips and thighs.

Then her warm weight was pressing firmly down on him through his pelvis, trapping his penis under one of her soft buttocks. He felt her smooth bare thighs jerk against his as she slid her feet down the outside of his knees and calves, but she’d obviously felt his stiff manhood, or at least guessed what she’d done, as she apologised, then leant further back against him, pressing her back to his chest and bringing her head up a little higher beside his cheek. He felt her twist as she hastily got her free hand under her skirt, still stretched over her knees, touching his thigh, then groping under her bottom to grasp his erection. He gasped as she pulled and tucked it into the space between her thighs, where he was sure he felt the soft tickle of her vulva against the base of his shaft. He felt dizzy again as his blood rushed into his strengthening arousal, responding to the delicate brush of her pubic hair and the silky warmth of her slick labia that was now directly against him.

He inhaled deeply, burying his nose in Marcie’s tightly pinned-back hair, ignoring the sharp pressure of her hair grips, filling his lungs with the fragrance of her perfume, her shampoo and her hot scalp. She was asking if he was okay, and he assured her that he was, encouraging her to lie back firmly against his chest, even as her hand still gripped his long and solid penis. His hands had been idly resting on Marcie’s hips as she’d brought them down, but now he brought them to her soft stomach beneath her blouse. He experimentally tried slipping one down her skirt’s elasticated waistband, and found his fingertips moving smoothly down over the subtle curve of her lower belly to the edge of her pubic hair.

She sighed as his fingers felt their way through her fur and over the long padded mounds of her outer labia, her own fingers dropping to cup his scrotum. He inhaled sharply in response, feeling her weight on his chest, and noticed that his erection involuntarily made a tense spasm, jerking up to brush his sensitive head against the fabric inside her skirt, even as he recognised the satisfying tugging sensation of his swollen glans finally pushing its way fully clear of his foreskin. He tried to concentrate on Marcie’s needs though, as he began to deliberately massage the furry cushions of her outer lips, not daring to approach her sensitive inner lips or clitoris yet, his other hand vaguely drifting across the silky skin of her belly.

He heard Marcie sigh in satisfaction as she grasped his penis again, wrapping her small thumb and forefinger around its collar in an almost rough way, then tugging. Ben jerked at the intensity of the stimulation, and felt he had to say, “That’s good, but gently please.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She exclaimed quietly beside him, immediately dropping her hand, but just to clasp his testicles again with her thumb hooked around the thick base of his shaft, as Ben was delighted to notice through his tingling body. Whilst he kept tenderly kneading the soft edges of her vulva, she explained, “Lying like this, I can almost imagine it’s mine, that I’ve got a penis of my own to play with. It would be so odd, to have this great stem sticking out between my legs, and this little loose bag beneath, all warm and bristly with its soft stones, which I know I mustn’t try squeezing. What would I do with it all? I didn’t mean to be rough, I just put my hand down to find it there, rising from my own arousal as it seemed, and I grabbed its jolly head without thinking.”

“It’s okay,” Ben murmured in reassurance, “We can do this any time, to let you play and imagine. You can call it your own too, truly. It’s not for anyone else now. And it feels great, to be hard, with your hand around me, so close to Vixen. I think I can just feel her lips on me. But it’s like you say too, like I’m almost stroking myself now, with my fingers in my own hair, when really it’s yours, massaging that pubic cushion, without touching Roddie. But it’s better for me if you’re gentle, usually, or only rubbing my head once it’s wet and slippery. Now though, I want to concentrate on you, without rushing to come, so maybe if you could just keep holding me, would that be okay?”

“Of course, Ben!” she answered earnestly, twisting her head awkwardly to try and press a kiss to his cheek, then adding, a little breathlessly, “But I’ve got this gel right here. Let me put some on both of us.”

Even as he remained lying prone beneath her, his hand at rest on her vulva now, Ben was aware of Marcie bringing her other hand up underneath her spread skirt. He felt her hand release his scrotum, heard the muffled click of the cap opening on the tube of lubricant, then felt her fingertips cautiously touch the back of his head near his frenulum. Though he could see nothing but the dome of the sky above the fringe of the dune and the edge of Marcie’s profile, he guessed what was coming next. Sure enough, with a subtle yet familiar squirting sound, he felt a sudden cool liquid rush across his head, making him shiver and twitch with delight. He felt the exquisite pressure of Marcie holding his unseen glans more firmly between fingers and thumb now, but he could tell the lubricant was running down his shaft. Before it could trickle further down, he pushed his fingers forwards and up his erect penis to meet Marcie’s as she now wrapped her hand tenderly around his collar.

“That feels lush,” Ben whispered, trembling with arousal, then asked, “Could you squeeze more on my fingers too, please?”

“As you like, my big birthday boy,” Marcie murmured in response, then he felt her fingers slip off him to find his hand and spread his own fingers out, before she guided the tip of the gel’s tube to his fingertips. She must have squeezed the tube again, as Ben felt a sudden wet surge. Urgently trying to balance the slimy pool without spilling it, he quickly brought his hand back to Marcie’s vulva. And then it was her turn to shiver as she emitted a small sound of happy surprise in reaction to the cool gel’s touch. Ben had deliberately pushed his lubricated fingers between her pursed lips, to stroke up from her vagina to the folds of fleshy skin around her clitoris.

“That’s wonderfully cool,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against his as she pushed her back against his chest, rolling her hips against his pelvis even as she fumbled to grip his long erection once again.

Ben was massaging his first and third fingers rhythmically against the fold between her inner and outer labia now, trying to find a rhythm and the right degree of gentle pressure, making Marcie gasp and softly moan again. As he let his middle finger drag and brush the long groove between her lips, he thought she was trying to imitate his strokes as she twisted and pulled her fingertips around his penis’s slippery collar and frenulum. The sensations were intense, sending spasms through his shaft, and they would surely have brought him to orgasm if she carried on, but they seemed almost too much. So, hoping to pause her inadvertent distraction from his own steady rhythm, he asked her softly, “Marcie, you’re too good. I won’t last. Please just hold me. Let me stroke your chalice.”

“Yes! My chalice for the Moon, my cup for our mingled briny flow, from the sea to my blood and your semen,” Marcie said enthusiastically, seizing on the word that he’d casually remembered her using earlier. She’d not forgotten to comply with his request, as her hand slipped down his long wooden shaft to rest lazily around its damp base again. But it seemed her imagination had once again been caught by their earlier discussion as she asked, “Would you like to make a little ritual of this, for the sea, our hearts and everything else, like we’ve done before when we’ve made love?”

“Aye, you know I’m happy to try, though I’m not so good with the words,” Ben agreed with sincerity, even as he deliberately focused on his rhythmic strokes one again. He was quite sure now that he was dragging more slippery fluid from the rim of Marcie’s vagina than had ever been in the dollop of gel that he’d applied, and the thought of her being now loosened by her own arousal was as much of a turn-on for Ben as her fingers’ intensely stimulating strokes had been. As his hand kept working beneath Marcie’s skirt, he took a slow deep breath to remain calm, pushing against her weight on his chest and enjoying the satisfaction of his upright erection in her soft grip, then suggested, “Could you start, please?”