Lady on Beach

We worked with regular breaks during the afternoon. Twice I had to do a hurried cover up as people walked past on the beach. As often happens when people see an artist at work, they were curious and tried to look at the picture, but Hart covered it before they got to the easel.

Hart seemed totally absorbed in his work, while I became more and more absorbed with him. However much I told myself not to be an idiot, I was in a constant state of sexual excitement. There was an uncomfortable wetness at the top of my inner thighs, and surely he must have noticed the hardness of my nipples?

By mid afternoon I was almost beside myself with craving for him and desperately trying to keep my overwhelming feelings concealed. This battle between desire and concealment began to make me agitated and irritable. Unreasonably I began to blame Hart for the state I was in.

"What right has he got to make me feel like this?" I thought. I was naked and vulnerable. He hid behind his robe and absorption in his work, while I sat trying to maintain the pose. I became increasing agitated, fidgeting and breaking the posture.

Hart finally decided I had had enough for one day, and he was more right than he knew. Had we gone on much longer I might have said or done something and made a complete fool of myself.

I flirted with the idea of inviting him to share the evening meal with Grant and me, but decided against it. "Why keep the object of temptation and desire in close proximity, only to feel the anguish of unrequited lust?" I thought.

"Half past nine tomorrow, then?" Hart asked.

In my frustration I answered rather snappishly, "If you like," and gathering my things I headed back to the shack. I no sooner got inside the door and a wave of remorse washed over me. Remorse that I hadn't invited Hart for the meal and for the brusque way I had parted from him.

Grant came in from his fishing and proudly displayed his unusually large catch for the day. He was the all providing male home from the hunt. I tried, but I am sure failed, to make the appropriate comments. When he asked, "How'd you get on with the artist chap?" I replied shortly, "Okay." Sensing my mood Grant did not press the subject.

After our meal I decided to go for a walk along the beach. I asked Grant to go with me, but to my relief, he declined. I was hoping that Hart might also decide on a beach walk, but the hope proved in vain. I passed one couple walking their dog in the late evening sun, and that was all.

I was in a state of profound discontent with myself and the world. At sixty one I was experiencing all the emotions of a young girl in love which seemed ridiculous at my time of life. I knew many people would, if they knew about such feelings in me, have felt revulsion that I was hungering for a man hardly a third my age.

As the sun dropped below the horizon I made my way up the track to the shack, and to Grant, already engrossed in some television sitcom. For a while I tried to watch the ridiculous antics of a single mother with daughter, both of whom wanted to be fucked by the same man who did not seem disposed to oblige either of them.

Finally I took my woes to bed and tried to relieve them by masturbating. Hart, all towers and steeples in my fantasy, pierced me to the heart. The trouble was Hart wasn't with me.

I slept badly and awoke prickly and ready to pick a fight with whoever crossed my path.

Grant announced that he would not be going fishing that day, and instead would be driving into the town some forty kilometers distant to get some gear for the boat. He suggested I went with him, and I almost agreed out of some irrational idea that I would be punishing Hart by not turning up for the sitting. However, the thought that I would not be seeing Hart was more agonizing than the desire to strike out at him, so I turned down the offer of a trip to town.

I made my petty protest by arriving ten minutes late on the beach. It was a hollow attempt since Hart arrived even later. He seemed as grouchy as me and said very little as he set up to start painting again.

The day grew quite hot as the sea breeze seemed to have dropped. Around mid-morning I got at least one of my desires fulfilled. The heat started to affect Hart, and in the end he had to remove his robe.

I saw again his penis and testicles bulging under the cloth of his very brief briefs. I could not take my eyes from this magnificent equipment as he worked away and I tried to hold still. Lubricant seemed to be almost squirting out of my vagina and I wanted to scream at Hart, "Fuck me; for God's sake fuck me, I'm going out my mind."

It was a ridiculous situation. I was fully aroused and ready for penetration. I think I would have taken any man who offered at that stage. I could see that Hart had an erection, but neither of us made a move as he painted and I posed.

We were like a boiling vessel with its safety valve jammed. As the heat increased something would have to give. It blew up when Hart was adjusting my pose.

"Blew up" is really too strong a description because it began so tenderly. As Hart was moving my head he bent and very softy kissed me on the lips. This was my cue, and I parted my lips to let his tongue enter and explore my mouth. As his tongue delved I took his hand and brought it to my breast and felt him begin to softly fondle it.

He broke from the kiss and whispered one word, "Hannah!" It was part cry of yearning and part question. I answered with equal brevity:

"Yes darling."

To leave him in no doubt about what I meant I lay back and opened my legs wide, ready for him to enter. He came between my legs and felt with his penis for my opening. I took hold of his shaft and guided him in.

As he pushed into me we almost simultaneously uttered the only other words that preceded this strangely quiet and tender coupling; "Oh Hannah!" "Hart darling."

It was beautiful feeling his firm warm shaft penetrating and then thrusting up and down in me, slowly at first as if he was savouring every moment, and then with increasing intensity as his testes prepared to release their load.

I felt his hands come under my buttocks and I knew the moment was near. I opened and raised my legs as wide as possible to give him maximum penetration and let my own orgasm take control of me.

As I fell under the spell of my rapidly approaching climactic moment I could not hold back the little squeals of anguished pleasure, and as I began to reverberate I heard Hart make a deep throated gasping groan then thrust in fiercely. The first impulsion of his semen pounded into me with enormous force, and this together with my own orgasmic throes set multi coloured lights whirling in my head.

I felt as if I had been given entrée into paradise as we clung to each other struggling for ever deeper penetration.

I reached the pinnacle of my climax and still Hart was discharging, gasping with every fresh ejection. I, still quivering with the aftermath of my climax, was surprised to find I was sobbing with joy.

Hart made a final powerful thrust into me, and his ejections ceased. He relaxed over me saying once more, "Oh Hannah."

I wanted to respond, but my sobs combined with the last quakes of my orgasm prevented me from speaking at that moment.

Hart, still penetrating me, was kissing my face and eyes with warm moist lips, his hand still embracing my breast.

When I had finally calmed I spoke my thoughts.

"Oh Hart, you're beautiful." Then I wept into his shoulder with sheer happiness.

He withdrew from me after a few minutes and I lay, my head against his chest as he held me to him. We were tranquil, the unbearable torment of our hunger for each other sated – at least temporarily.

In my serene state I must have drift off into a light sleep, to be awakened by Hart shaking and saying, "Wake up, Hannah, the kids are back."

As I came to I heard the distant barking of a dog and looking along the beach I saw the stick children running back and forth in the shallow water, the dog chasing along with them. As they played they were gradually moving in our direction.

There was a flurry of activity as we hastily put our robes on; then we sat not quite knowing what to do.

I could feel Hart's emissions mingled with my lubricant dribbling out of my vagina and making a sticky mess between my thighs. I foolishly thought for a moment, "It's a pity those lovely little sperms had nothing to fertilize, it would be lovely to have a baby with Hart." I sighed and Hart looked at me with concern."

"Are you okay, Hannah?"

"Yes, darling, just wishing I was thirty or forty years younger."

"I'll take you just as you are," he replied, and bent to kiss me.

The children had drawn near so Hart went on, "No more portrait today, let's pack up."

I wondered if Grant was back from town or if not how long he would be. I wanted to ask Hart back to the shack were we could shower, and perhaps enjoy each other again, but for all my ardour I decided against, so we parted, having agreed to meet again on the beach at nine-thirty in the morning.

Back at the shack I showered, and for all its discomfort regretfully washing out Harts residual sperm from my vagina. As long as I had the sperm in me I felt as if I still had something of Hart in me.

Grant came back about half an hour after I'd finished showering, so it was just as well I hadn't brought Hart back. After a brief, "Had a good day?" to which I could honestly reply even if massively understated, "Fine," he went off to do something with his boat.

As I wandered round the shack doing odd jobs and preparing the evening meal I kept dwelling on Hart and our love making. As I did I began to get turned on again. I wanted to be with Hart, to make love with him and feel his warm young sperm filling me once more.

Grant made it worse when during the meal he kept talking to me about Hart.

"Getting on with the young bloke okay?"

"Yes, he's very nice."

"Portrait going well?"

"I think so, but he won't let me see it until it's finished."

"Might buy it from him if it's any good."

I had only been half listening to Grant, my mind and by extension my sex organ, being focused on Hart, but his words about buying the portrait brought me up with a jolt.

"My God, if he sees I've been posing naked he'll go raving mad."

I would have to warn Hart of Grant's intention, but what could Hart do. The only thing I could think of was we would have to stop the painting.

After the meal Grant settled down to one of the endless sitcoms he watched, and taking advantage of his absorption I announced I was going for a walk and asked if he would like to come with me. I held my breath fervently longing for him to say "no," and luck was on my side, for he replied, "Want to watch this."

I took my sex hungry body down to the beach and looking in the direction Hart had said his camp was, I saw a narrow track through the bush and began to walk along it. My luck continued to hold because shortly I came out in to a clearing, and there was an old fashioned square tent with a battered Ford utility standing beside it.

I saw no sign of Hart until I got right up to the tent and looked in through the open flap. He was stretched out on an air mattress, still clad in his beach robe, apparently contemplating nothing in particular.

I saw the ruins of a meal lying on a camp table and the interior of the tent was somewhat untidy.

Hart, seemingly lost in his revere, didn't see me until I stepped through the open flap and said, "Hello, Hart."

He looked up, startled, then seeing me smiled. "Hannah, I was lying here thinking about you."

I could see by the lump in the groin region of his robe that he had been thinking about me in a rather specific manner. I decided to get my priorities right, and as I was still wearing my beach coat, but with the addition of a pair of knickers for respectability's sake, I slipped the robe off and dropped the knickers.

"I think we have some unfinished business, Hart," I said. Then kneeling beside his air mattress I open his robe to reveal just what I had expected; a beautiful throbbing erection.

For a moment I toyed with the idea of taking the purple shining crown into my mouth and giving him oral sex, but my own dire needs prevailed, so I sat over him and saying, "I think this needs fixing," I inserted him into me.

He gave the now familiar groaning cry of "Oh Hannah" as I dropped down to take his full length into me, and when he was pressing up against the end of my tunnel I gripped him with my vagina. In the days of my love making with Grant that grip had always sent him off somewhere into space. It had a similar effect on Hart.

He gave a cry that sounded like "Yeow" and grabbing my hips, he held me down tight. He closed his eyes and began to moan, "Hannah, oh Hannah, that's fantastic."

I clenched him even harder and got a very satisfying moan from him, and then began to move over him.

It was strange, but the years seemed to fall away from me. I was a young woman again experiencing all the excitement of early sexual exploration. Love for Hart washed over me; I was in love with a boy nearly forty years younger than me, and I didn't care. I wanted him with all the passion of a youth; such is the power of superlative sex.

Very quickly I started to be overtaken and controlled by the physical demands of my body. I was shaking and whimpering, longing for and dreading the climax I knew would soon have me firmly in its power. When it struck with unprecedented force I continued to pound up and down on Hart under the control of some primitive physical urge that would not release me until it had been fulfilled.

In the midst of my own howling confused state I heard as if at a distance Hart cry out, "Hannah, oh my God, Hannah," and something hot and glutinous was filling me with powerful eruptions and I heard my own voice crying out, "Hart...Hart...don't stop...don't ever stop..."

I was weak and felt myself lost in some seventh heaven. As my climax passed and I could think connectedly again I thought, "This is sexual union as it should be."

Unable to restrain myself I wept out, "I love you Hart....I love you..."

Hart was looking at me, his eyes seeming to penetrate to the inner most me. What he saw I was only to discover later, but with that gaze I felt that he was trying to draw me into him, to make us one flesh and spirit.

As the world began to take shape around us again I slowly pulled away from him, and as the nerve crammed tip of his penis came out of me, it's still sensitive nerves made him give a little yelp as he felt a twinge of delicious pain.

I lay beside him burying my head against him, and began to think of all that we might yet experience with each other. I could easily have gone to sleep in his arms, but the reality of my life with Grant took over. I rose and said, I must go, Hart."

He rose to stand in front of me and holding me close, kissed me and said, "I love you Hannah, and would keep you here if I could."

I pulled away from him and smiling said, "See you in the morning."

I walked home in the setting sun under a glorious sky of reds, pinks and purples. I was filled with a glorious contentment, not to say another load of Hart's sperm. It was running out of my vagina to soak my thighs, and I hoped I could get into the shower before Grant spotted it or detected the smell of sex on me.

Fortunately he was still engrossed in television and only muttered, "Have a good walk? You've been a long time."

I made no comment, only saying, "Mm," and went to the shower to eliminate evidence of my guilty love making.

I slept well that night, and woke feeling refreshed and very much alive. Grant was still around the place and feeling very much at peace with the world I surprised the poor man with my singing and little touches of affection I bestowed on him.

Immediately after breakfast he took off in his boat for a days fishing, and no sooner had the last hum of his motor disappeared, I hurried down to the beach.

It was still not nine thirty, the appointed time to meet Hart, but he was already there. I looked along the beach and there was no one in sight. I went to him and putting my arms round his neck, kissed him hungrily and said, "Good morning, darling. I hope you slept as well as I did. What do we do first, pose and paint or make love?"

He grinned and said, "I think we should do a little work first or we may end up doing nothing but make love."

We worked for about an hour, but by then our sexual appetites were making themselves very obvious. "Come up to the shack, darling," I said, "We've got it all to ourselves for hours yet and there's no children with dogs."

We left our gear on the beach except for the painting itself, which Hart wrapped carefully and carried back to the shack. As we walked I remembered what Grant had said about buying the portrait, and I told Hart.

He laughed and said, "Don't worry Hannah, I've got that covered."

"How?"

"Trust me Hannah, you'll know all in good time."

I was in no state to continue to press the matter as I was feeling as randy as hell.

I had made up my mind that I would give Hart a little treat, but he got in before me.

As soon as we were inside the shack he took off my robe and shrugging off his own, swept me off my feet and sat me on the edge of the table.

"Now, lovely lady, I'm going to do something I've wanted to do to you ever since we first met."

He lifted up my legs and knelt in front of me. For a minute or so he explored my vulva with his fingers, and then began to kiss his way up my thighs. I felt his fingers part the lips of my vulva and then his tongue began to probe my soft inner lips until he had penetrated my vaginal tunnel.

The rapid flicking of his soft warm tongue began to send me into a spin, and I started to say softly, "Oh no Hart, don't...you're driving me mad...please...don't...I can't take it...don't..."

I took it and liked it...oh how I liked it. I'd always believed that oral sex was one of the most loving things a man can do to a woman. To want to taste and smell her seemed to me an act of supreme love and desire. I loved him so much, and as he continued exploring between my vagina and my clitoris I held his head to me imploring him not to stop.

Hart had an amazing ability to give me the most racking orgasms I had ever experienced. I don't think it was sexual technique but that wonderful union of love and hunger that we both felt for each other. I am sure no technique could have made me want to give myself totally to Hart. I would even have accepted anal sex from him if he had wanted it, but he never did ask for it.

As he worked on my genitals with his tongue and lips his hands reached up to fondle my breasts and I could not hold back my cry, "Oh Hart, take all of me." It was the cry of desolation arising out of the realization that I wanted to be totally one with him, his body in mine and mine in his, and knowing, as many other lovers no doubt have, that physical separation must eventually take place.

Once more my orgasm came roaring in like a wild beast wanting to devour me; shaking me like prey it has hunted and struck down. I was powerless in its grip and surrendered willingly to its savaging of my body and mind.

I heard screams as I was assailed by this beast that came from within but was being aroused from it lair by the outside goading that was my beloved Hart, and the screams were mine. Body racking convulsions shook me as I reached the zenith of this wonderful and terrible onslaught.

I think I nearly passed out and was aroused by Hart's voice; "Hannah, are you all right? Have I hurt you?"

I looked up to see his lubricant soaked face looking at me. I was unable to speak immediately, and he picked me up and carried me to the divan laying me on it carefully.