Sometimes I Talk Too Much

What a glorious day – the beach is beautiful, the sun is perfect.  Not too hot, but that special warmth on the skin that makes you want to just take pause and lean back and enjoy it.  There’s a slight breeze even, coming off the ocean and through the small bushes and trees up and down the beach.  We have this perfect spot, clean sand, some greenery, easy short trip to the cabana bar and just… silence.

Geez, this is wonderful, isn’t it?” I ask – you have to look up from your Kindle as you’re laying there, soaking up the sun.  You’re lost in the book, so ask me to repeat.  When I do you just grin at me and go back to the book.  “I can’t believe how perfect this location is.  I can’t even hear anyone from the resort, but I know the bar is only about a hundred yards away…”   You stop again and look up at me, grin, take a quick sip of your drink from the coconut glass and go back to reading.

I stretch out, take my own sip (more like a long drag on the straw) and then lay down next to you and ask what you’re reading.   You smile at me, shake your head and press a bit of cheese into my mouth, holding your hand over my mouth and shaking your head one more time.

I lay on my back, loving the simplest touch, the simplest gesture from you.  That hand on my mouth, the hint of control runs across me, almost like the breeze.

Laying back, I look at the ocean, listening to the birds, just taking it all in.  You sit up and turn, putting your back to me and giving me the bottle of suntan lotion.  So cliche’ but so much fun.  As I rub it into your back, you undo the straps in back and stop, trying not to be surprised, and then go back to it.  I finish up and you lay face down and continue reading.

I keep talking to you, talking about this or that, pointing out ships, about how beautiful it is.  Finally, you look at me.  Put your hand over my mouth once again and press me to my back.  You reach your hand down my trunks and squeeze.  Hard.

I jump at the suddenness of it all, try momentarily to get away and you look at me.  Not smiling.  Not amused.  You have this look on your face that’s … “enough…”   And the grip on me and my cage re-enforces that look.  I freeze as you press harder against my mouth, pressing me into the sand.

It’s a startling force, and it roars through me.

My cage is nearly instantly pulling at me, fixing me in place and straining against me.  To say it’s full would be an understatement.  I can feel every square millimeter of the cage.  The steel of the tube, the steel of the ring, the PA wire inside, fighting me for space inside the tube.  All of it firmly gripping my body.  Your hand around my balls is firm and squeezes a bit more.  My full attention is now squarely on your face, looking for something, anything.

You lean up and forward over me, I wonder if you’ll kiss me, but you hover just over my face.  I feel you let go of my cage and me, and somehow you manage to lift up, slide off your bathing suit bottom and sit back down on my stomach.

You show me the suit bottom and my cock is raging and fighting and angry at the cage.

I start to try to say something and your grip on my mouth becomes painful. I shut up.

You cock your head at me as if to say “one word…

Finally, I get the message.

You stand up, one foot on each side of me, naked from the waist down.  “You talk too damn much.  I’m trying to read!!!”  You take one step, then another.  Exxagerated, until you’re directly over my head.

You slowly lower yourself down on me.  As you slowly get closer, there is an amazing mix of coconut from the sunscreen, the ocean smells and breeze and you.

Make better use of that mouth and tongue…” is all you say as you slowly make contact.  You get comfortable kneeling in the sand, ankles poised over my wrist, pinning me there on the towel and in the sand.

The next thing I know I feel both hands in my hair, with an extremely firm grip.  You’re moving into animal mode, using my head, my face, my nose, my mouth and tongue as your own sex toy, as your own play thing.  I can feel you starting to twitch around my mouth, my tongue as you guide me, controlling my head.

I can feel you starting to build to your orgasm – I feel it inside you, I feel your grip with your legs getting tighter and tighter on my head, I also feel your hand back on my cage, and more specifically, my balls and the base ring.  I can feel your skin, your hand, your grip, I can taste you, I can smell you – it’s this whirlwind of sensations, all on overload.

I feel you start to cum and feel you tip over the edge.  I look up to see your head back, this open-mouthed grin on your face, and feel you – feel you gripping tighter and tighter on me as you get more and more involved in your orgasm.  It’s incredible to watch.  To feel.  Your legs around me, your hand in my hair, your hand on my cage and cock, you, completely consumed.

On the beach.  By the ocean.  In perfect weather.

It’s amazing and, as you start to come down from the orgasm, I try to take it all in as you get back some control and ease your grip, ease your hold on my hair, my head.

Rolling off and over, you go right back to your book.  Not a word is said, including from me.  Though I admit to scheming about a way to talk and repeat our encounter, without getting the punishment for doing so.

21 thoughts on “Sometimes I Talk Too Much

  1. You Got What You Wanted, Maybe Even The Tight Cage Part! She CERTAINLY Did! What A Gentleman! HEE HEE!

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