Marcie didn’t reply, but Ben was aware of her taking a deep calming breath of her own, perhaps seizing the moment to enjoy his hand’s strokes herself while she mentally prepared her playful ceremonial words. Then she began in a steady low tone, “Mother Sea, cradle of all life, salty essence of our blood and tears, we honour you. Aah, yes. Mother sea, lying before us now, wrapping our whole planet in your care, you penetrate us and inspire our love.” She took a deep breath, then her quiet voice rose to an almost pleading tone, “Mother Sea, formless spirit of the deep and our dreams, witness Ben and Marcie’s union and flow, here and now!”
Ben guessed it was his turn to say something as she fell silent. His fingers were still moving steadily, his middle finger trying to deliberately itch the edge of her clitoris now, whilst he ran his other hand further up beneath her blouse, feeling her ribs and then the mound of her breast. Cupping it gently, holding her weight against his own chest, feeling his back pressing into the dune, he gazed up into the sky and spoke the words that came to him, “Hallowed Land, bones of our ancestors, our roots, deep thrusting, into dark earth, we thank you. And support our union, we pray.”
Marcie gave a soulful sigh, then almost immediately began intoning her own deliberately paced words, “Brilliant Sun, solar fire, quickener of life, golden King of the Earth, aah, we honour you. Shining Sun, day’s eye, let our sap rise, let our turgid buds burst, let our tender petals open to your light. Oh yes! Blazing Sun, energy giver, please shine on our love’s flow, today, and every day of our lives.”
Even with Marcie just holding him, Ben felt his solid erection straining upwards in sympathetic arousal, triggered by the sensations of Marcie’s soft breast and proud nipple under his hand, by the slippery silky warmth that ran between her lips and over the harder bud of her clitoris under his fingertips, and by the emotional emphasis that she’d invested in her quiet yet heavily panted words. He felt his effort barely measured up as he spoke in turn, “Mother Sky, dome of our starry heaven. Oh Marcie! I’m close. Mother Sky, your starry body, over us, now, beyond the Sun, every night, immortal, shine on our children, when we’re gone. For you, Mother, Marcie, child.”
“Oh Ben! Don’t let it go now, if you can help it,” Marcie said urgently, “I want you inside me! We can consummate this rite, for real now. You can bury your seed in my cwm. Do you want that?”
“Holy Mother, fuck yes!” Ben exclaimed, losing his rhythm as he froze and tried to relax, slowing his deep breaths as he firmly held Marcie’s hot greasy vulva in his cupped hand, “But how?”
“Just like this,” Marcie said urgently, “I’ll get onto my knees above you right now. Is that okay, facing your toes?”
“Aye, that sounds very good,” Ben admitted, even as he wondered if her plan would work. But he immediately felt her firm thighs flex as she pulled her hands back and braced herself against the blanket, already putting her idea into effect. Ben quickly withdrew his own hands as she began levering herself up into an ungainly kind of squat. He gave a great dizzy breath as her weight lifted off his chest, but he knew his airways were clear as he drew in the fresh seaside air. He could feel her slippery lips and ticklish hairs rubbing against his rigid shaft as she swung upright, but then she’d risen too high to keep in contact and he was sorry to feel his turgid head slip away from her, still out of sight beneath Marcie’s skirt. His erection fell down and bounced against his lower abdomen, itself wet with both spilt lubricant and perspiration from its close contact with Marcie’s buttocks.
Marcie was on her knees now, straddling Ben’s outstretched legs as he lay prone on the blanket against the dune’s slight slope. All he could see of her was her dark brown pinned-up hair, the creased cotton of her loose off-white blouse, and her skirt with its red, brown and orange details lost in the rumpled folds across her wide hips, spreading down across his own torso and away over her tensed thighs. Still, Ben felt that he was able to take her whole being in, seeing the stray wisps of loose hair standing out against the open sky, seeing the moles on the back of her neck beside her pendant’s snake chain, seeing the way that her blouse’s thin cotton stuck to her skin between her shoulder blades where it was damp with perspiration, and seeing the dirty soles of her feet stuck out beneath her skirt beside his own hips.
“Thank you, Marcie,” he said reverentially, “I love you.”
“Oh, shush,” she said quietly in a breathless voice, half turning her head, “Just help me fuck you now!”
Ben felt a dizzy wave wash over him as he lay beneath Marcie, perhaps as the reality of what they were about to do struck home. He took a great slow breath as he put one hand against the rumpled cotton over her hip and reached his other beneath its fabric, finding his penis and grasping its shaft, lining his first two fingers upright from its tender greasy head. From the angle of Marcie’s elbows, Ben guessed that she had both her hands under her skirt. He felt the brush of her pubic hair on his fingertips, and then the heavy pressure of her warm slippery skin pressing against his glans. She seemed to have come down slightly off target as his penis slipped up against the edge of her buttocks, but she immediately flexed, exhaling loudly as she lifted herself a little higher, then lowered herself to him again.
Ben felt his fingertips touch hers, and he guessed her hands were buried in her vulva, parting her lips for him. Her slippery skin was against his glans again, and he wriggled his rigid shaft around against her, until it seemed he found a groove within the folds of her vulva. Suddenly Marcie came down hard against him, forcing his hand out of the way with the inner edge of her thigh. Ben felt himself slipping into her with a mind-numbing thrill of pure bliss, and involuntarily panted out a gasping groan, which he realised Marcie echoed in the same moment with her own anxiously muffled cry.
Her deliciously warm vagina was all around his wooden erection, and he was aware of a guilty gratitude to Marcie for her decision to go on the Pill, allowing him to feel her silky skin enclose him directly like this, without the need for a Featherlite rubber barrier. His chest was already heaving as he withdrew his hand and clasped both Marcie’s hips in his grip, and Marcie was rolling those hips against him, rising into a rhythmic bounce now. Ben heard her panting herself as they shared the sensation of his big slippery stem penetrating her vagina and rubbing against its edge toward her perineum. He felt his heart hammering with the intensity of the moment as his arousal blissfully rose towards its peak, which he was almost as eager to reach now as he was to prolong the moment.
And at that moment, Ben was startled to feel spots of cold rain touching his face. He looked up into the sky and saw the clouds to their left obscured by a grey smudge. He laughed at the spectacularly unfortunate timing of the shower’s arrival, stupidly saying, “It’s raining.”
“We go on,” Marcie said firmly as she rolled her hips against him, pressing her bum against his pubic hair whilst he rose into her. He heard a breathlessness to her voice as she went on, “It’s the sky, it’s the natural world, it’s the sea’s water, blessing us.”
Marcie’s actions were becoming more active, and as the light drizzle misted his face, Ben saw her pull her hands out from under her skirt and raise her arms. He watched her shoulder blades flex as she stretched them out towards the horizon, then raised them above head, clasping her hands together as she arched her back, softly vocalising a kind of high rhythmic whooping cry. But Ben realised her stretch had been too much as he felt himself slipping away under her bouncing motion. He urgently tried to roll his hips back, but after just two strokes his utterly turgid erection, bending under Marcie’s position, sprang forwards out of her vagina and tangled in the fabric of her skirt.
“Oh, Ħaqq Alla!” Marcie exclaimed, falling forwards onto her hands again as the light rain drifted on. As the cool water dampened his cheeks, Ben wondered if she was ready to carry on, as he wished with an almost painfully eager desire, but she’d already sprung into motion as she said decisively, “Wait, let’s try it like this.”
Still keeping her back to him, she pulled one foot forward, crouching now on just one knee, balancing with her hand to the ground, urgently fumbling under her skirt with her other hand. Ben felt her fingers touch his hugely engorged penis and rushed to slip his own hand back under her skirt and her buttocks to help her. Together they held his slippery shaft up, and Ben felt the bristly touch of pubic hair as well as the silky heat of her smooth inner lips as he pressed himself gratefully against her vulva.
“Oh, my knee!” Marcie said in frustration, and Ben feared for the pain that she’d maybe felt in this awkward stretch. But she didn’t pause as she now pulled her other knee up so that she was truly squatting over him, her shoulders hunched, and her skirt arrayed around her legs and his hips. Ben held his hidden erection upright as he watched the back of her neck, imaging the look of concentration and flushed arousal on her face, then he felt her lips brush the tip of his head as he wondered himself if this would work. He was aware of Marcie’s hand fiddling against her vulva as she hovered over him, when all at once he seemed to feel her part for him, opening the profane portal into her body, as she grunted and came down firmly over him once more.
Ben tried to strain upwards himself in his eagerness to engage in this exquisite coupling once more, yet he was still pinned to the firm dune by Marcie’s weight. She was bouncing up and down now, making small high-pitched noises with her panting breaths, even as the light rain thinned, and Ben could feel his penis slipping up and down easily within her supremely comfortable vagina. He grasped her waist with his hands, then frantically fumbled under her loose blouse to put his palms to her bare skin, warm despite the chill of her slightly dampened clothes. She still had her hands forward, one planted firmly on the ground and the other against her pubic mound, Ben guessed. He thought he could feel the brush of her fingertips on the side of his thick shaft as it rose up into her at moments in her bumping thrusts. It excited him, yet he imagined her primary intent was to keep her lips parted for him, or perhaps put pleasant pressure on her clitoris. Yet despite her arms’ braced position, Ben found he could still slip his hands around Marcie’s chest under her tensed biceps, inevitably bringing his fingertip into contact with her unseen swaying breasts.
He gasped as he felt their soft weight bumping against his outstretched fingers. He could sense that his erection was as big as it could possibly be for him now as he relished the euphoric sensation of Marcie’s naked grip around him, slipping up and down in a fast rhythm, and he knew this was the most perfect experience that his basic animal being could ever encompass. But by brushing Marcie’s soft breasts with his wide hands, feeling their velvety mass bounce against his palms, and brushing her stiffly proud nipples with his fingertips, the exquisite intensity was heightened even further.
When the first pulse of his orgasm came, it felt so intense that it was like a part of his immortal soul departing through the root of his manhood. It seemed as if the essence of those ancestors, and all the other vital breeding beings on Earth too, was passing out from his intensely alive body up into Marcie’s. With this molten spurt, he was gladly giving a part of his life away, his primitive masculine being erupting euphorically from him in the vain attempt to plant new life in Marcie’s feminine cauldron. His whole being was invested in this moment, pumping his seed into her chalice to brew their unborn child, perhaps waiting even now in the distant future. But the climactic pulse was also an instant of ultimate personal joy, especially for him, but he hoped Marcie too, in the utter fusion of their passionate love. It brought a profound sensual gratification that rushed in a tingling wave from the root of his penis out through his body to his scalp in this moment of completion.
These ideas and sensations flashed thorough his mind in an instant as he released the first jerking wave of warm semen directly into Marcie’s vagina, flooding her cervix, spilling his sperm across that unseen inner shoreline at the edge of her magical womb. He was aware that he’d groaned in that moment of sexual satisfaction, but Marcie didn’t seem to pause in her pumping squats, and her softly wailing breaths, still forcing him up, deep into herself, time and time again. He felt his body becomes enslaved to that rhythm as he lay back, seemingly sinking into the sand now, letting his stupefying orgasm come over his shaking body with its own involuntary and uncontrollable beating pulse now.
The moment stretched out as his hands gripped Marcie’s breasts and the soft rain struck his face, but he released her as he came back to his senses, feeling Marcie’s pace slow to a stop above him. She tried to twist around to face him, but she barely managed a glance over her shoulder before she twisted back again with a panting sigh, hanging her head. She exclaimed breathily, “Holy Mary, I felt you go deep there! But my knees, I’m sorry, I’ve got to move.”
“I’m sorry too,” Ben echoed as Marcie stiffly rose up in her squat and his big slippery penis, already softening, oozed gently from her vagina, falling heavily into the depression between his thigh and abdomen. As he rested his hands on her waist and felt the misty rain thin away into nothing, he explained, “I wanted you to carry on, so much, until I came. It felt so good, despite the rain, I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry if I was pushing too hard.”
“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” Marcie reassured him, as she tried to glance over her shoulder again, letting Ben glimpse her profile and notice the droplets of water beading her glasses. She put her fists firmly down to the blanket on either side of his hips, saying, “Just a moment. Is it okay if I lie down against you again, like before?” Ben agreed, and as she began stretching her legs out, he rearranged her skirt across his stomach so that she wouldn’t sit on it. As she lay down against him, pressing her thighs against his, her buttocks to his pelvis, and then her back to his chest, she explained in turn, “I wanted you to carry on too. I’d hoped it would be like those other times when you’ve been behind me, the time in the ash tree especially, when I could come just by Roddie pressing me in the right way. But it wasn’t quite like that, and my knees were getting stiff, so I couldn’t truly focus on the feeling of you inside me. Don’t worry, they’re fine now, and I didn’t mind that bit of rain at all! It was actually rather magical I thought. It’s been a magical way to celebrate your birthday, making love to you out here under the open sky.”
“But don’t you want to carry on?” Ben asked, resting his hands across hers now, where she’d laid them over her lower belly, “I could stroke Vixen again, like I did before.”
“Oh Ben, you know you don’t need to give me an orgasm every time that you have one yourself,” Marcie said with a sigh, even as Ben felt her fingers twitch against her skirt’s pleated cotton.
“But you can have one now, if you want. There’s time, and I think you were turned on,” Ben argued.
“Oh I was, I am!” Marcie assured him, definitely itching her fingers into the nest between her thighs now, rubbing her hard-used vulva through her skirt. She went on in a dreamy voice, “I wish I had a buzzy toy here now, so I could just turn it on and let myself pop. I don’t want you to worry about making it work for me though. Maybe I could just have a little fiddle about while we lie here to see if it goes anywhere, and you could just hold me. Is that okay? And I’m really not squashing you like this am I?”
“I’m fine,” Ben reassured her, even though he was indeed aware of her weight pressing down on his ribcage as his heavy breathing returned to normal. He raised his hands to hug her lightly around her own ribs, below her breasts, as he said, “Just relax, take your time, and see where it goes, as you say. I’m happy, floating in heaven, after coming inside you like that. It felt like I was leaving my body, giving myself up, flowing into you, giving you my life’s essence, passing on life from generations before, sharing life with all creatures, trying to be fertile with you, in our love. I’ll shut up now, to let you concentrate, to enjoy the peace of this place.”
“Hmm, yes,” Marcie murmured, both her hands now tucked under her skirt’s waistband, Ben had noticed. She gave a great sigh, then said, “Thank you for your seed. It’s so good to feel it inside me now, making me all gooey. And the peace of this place…”
Ben expected her to finish her sentence, but her voice seemed to have petered out, perhaps as she lost her train of thought to the distracting sensations that her fingers were bringing to her, rubbing her vulva and her clitoris in ways that he could only guess at. He held her to him with his arms around her, one hand now resting on the damp cotton over her breast, one underneath on her bellybutton, some way above her own twitching hands. He listened to her steady, heavy breathing, hearing its slightly ragged rhythm as she drew in air through her teeth, sometimes vocalising tiny sighs or quiet moans as she exhaled. He didn’t want to disturb her focus by saying anything aloud, yet he felt a profoundly tender love for her as she opened the path to her own satisfaction whilst her body’s weight bore down through him.
Ben tried to open up his own awareness of this moment in sympathy, the contended satisfaction of his own thoroughly gratifying orgasm still lingering from the core of his belly to the tips of his toes and the crown of his rain-dampened head. He gazed up into sky, which was clearing to a wide pale blue again now, and breathed slowly and steadily against the pressure of Marcie’s back. He listened carefully for more distant sounds too, hearing the muted rumbling crump of the sea’s waves and the calls of the birds all around them. He picked out the distant voice of the skylark especially, and he imagined the male bird aloft on the air, feeling a sense of wonder at his ceaseless lyrical music, knowing he sang on a circular breath. Ben wondered if the tiny bird felt himself gasping for air as he followed his compulsion to perform, struggling to fill his tiny lungs as the air spun in and out to make the flowing notes, charming his mate, claiming his small patch of ground for their offspring. He felt an empathy for the unseen short-lived wild bird, breathless in his love, striving to express something of precious beauty whilst he could.
Ben had noticed Marcie’s own breaths getting a little quicker and more forced too as she continued to fidget in his arms. Now she drew an especially sharp in-breath and held it, then panted once, emitting an almost birdlike keening sound herself, and gasped again. He felt his guess that she was very close to her climax was confirmed when she exhaled sharply again and whispered, “Omm Alla, that’s it! I’m home!”
After these short exclamatory bursts, Marcie gasped in his arms, stifling a cry in her throat, her own arms going tense, along with the muscles of her shoulders, buttocks and thighs as they pressed against Ben. Then something mysterious that he could only imagine shivered through her whole body. She puffed rapidly, moaning an anxiously pleading “ooh” with each shuddering out-breath, then she exclaimed heavily, “Fuck, yes, Ben, Qaddisa Marija!” She suddenly went limp in Ben’s embrace, sighing heavily as the flowing release passed over her. Ben did his best to snuggle against her, his hand still tenderly held to her belly and breast, as her powerful breaths deepened and slowed.
“Oh Ben, thank you for your patience,” she murmured after a moment, pressing the side of her head with its springy hair against his jawline. She explained, “I had to let go. I had to forget my worries about walkers and tides, even forget about you, squashed beneath me, for just a moment there. But it worked! The sea’s waves came all the way over me, from deep in my cwm, right through my body and bursting out through the top of my head. Mother of God, I’m so wet! It’s your lovely semen, and some of that gel too, but I must have oozed half a pint myself.”
“There’s no need for thanks. I love that you could go all the way. I love you, Marcie. But are you saying, about being wet, that there was a bit of a squirt again?” Ben asked with prurient curiosity.
“No!” Marcie laughed lightly, “Just my lubrication, from your stroking, and then the excitement of taking you like that, ramming your piston up into my oily chamber when I couldn’t even see your face, staring sightlessly out to the sky and sea instead. Ooh, I can feel it moving again now, with the aftershocks!”
Ben guessed she meant that there must still be pulses flowing through her vaginal muscles as she shivered in his arms, and he smiled to himself at the thought of the thrill that those perhaps brought her. But then he felt a warm gush leaking down onto him from the gap between her buttocks and thighs, squeezed from her cwm, trickling into his pubic hair. Next he felt this fluid inevitably oozing its way under gravity, finding its way around the base of his softened penis and his testicles, into the crease between his own buttocks, and from there down onto the picnic blanket he guessed. With a light chuckle of his own, he admitted “I felt that! I think you just returned my little present.”
“Returned with interest!” Marcie laughed, pulling her hands up to grip his now. Ben felt a greasy dampness on her warm fingers, making his mind race with thoughts of where that dampness had come from and where those fingers had just been. Marcie’s mind seemed to be turning to practical matters though as she asked, “Do you want to try mopping it up? We should have brought a towel. Ooh, there’s the kitchen roll, if that’s not too rough.”
She’d already dropped his hands to grope around amongst the scattered remains of their picnic, exclaiming “Aha!” as she evidently grasped it, beyond Ben’s line of sight as he still lay pinned beneath her. He could see her raise the roll up and tear of two sheets, passing one to him and keeping one herself as she shoved her hand under her skirt again. “Ooh, a piece of sandpaper wouldn’t be much rougher!” she remarked with a chuckle as Ben felt her levering herself up onto her feet and elbows. Then she asked, “Shall I get off you at last? Are you ready to slip up your kecks if I move? We still don’t want to leave Roddie hanging en plein air, do we? He might catch a cold, and then we’d be in real trouble with the mess from his sneezes!”
“Aye, let’s make the move,” Ben agreed with a smirk, having managed to fit his hands under Marcie’s hips to at least give his genitals a cursory wipe. He’d rolled the tough sheet of kitchen roll around his penis and scrotum before shoving it down into the mess pool beneath, also slipping his foreskin up over his slightly tender glans at the same time, so he hoped that would be enough to avoid soaking his boxer shorts through at least.
With a small grunt and a muttered “Oops,” Marcie heaved herself across Ben’s prone body to land beside him, giving her skirt a tug and a flick across her stretched-out knees to get it off his stomach and hips. Ben felt a flicker of alarm that his sticky shrunken manhood had suddenly been exposed, but he quickly pulled up his boxer shorts, arching his back, then wriggled to pull his jeans up, moving slightly to one side. He saw the slimy smear on the blanket that he had indeed been sitting on and wiped at it ineffectually with the dirty piece of kitchen roll, before casting that aside and shuffling his bum back over the guilty stain to get closer to Marcie as he buttoned his flies and tied his belt.
It was only then that he looked up into her face as she reclined on her hip beside him, propped up on one elbow, smiling eagerly as she gazed down on him. He saw the slight disarray of her hair around her damp face, beads of rainwater still on her glasses, her cheeks somewhat flushed and, further down, her limp blouse hanging from her shoulders, though he shamefully noticed that the thin cotton had not got so wet that it clung to her breasts. As he looked up into her eyes again, he felt a surge of affection, as if her somewhat dishevelled state gave her a vulnerability and an honesty that only enhanced her exotic feminine beauty, devoid of any artificial aids to her glamour, yet glowing with an innate natural beauty and an evidently powerful sexual potency.