Hot for Harry

Beachin' Sex

Wrapping your arms around your knees, you stare at his hands with those glorious fingers. "Sand, Harry. That's what. I don't think I want sand in my intimate parts." It pains you to say this, as you truly were close to a mind-blowing climax. At least you assume it would be mind-blowing. After all, it's Harry.

He's pouting, turning to grab your bikini bottoms which are covered in sand as well since he threw them to the side off the towel. Shaking your head, you grab the offensive item, stuffing it into your beach bag. Thank goodness this beach is as private as can be, and your little cottage is just a few steps away.

As he stands, you notice that he has also been affected by your little sunscreen adventure. The outline of his cock is clearly visible through his pink trunks, and you smirk. Fluidly standing in front of him, you trace the shape with your fingernail as Harry draws in a deep breath, his eyes locking on yours.

"It's too sandy out here," he croaks, wrapping his hand around yours to halt your measured movement over his length.

You giggle. When he looks at you with a cocked eyebrow, you start singing, "Sandy, can't you see? I'm in misery. We made a start. Now we're apart. There's nothing left for me."

Harry joins in on the second line, and the two of you belt out the ballad from "Grease" at the top of your lungs here on a beach in the Bahamas, one of you naked, the other clearly aroused in pink swim trunks. You dissolve into laughter just before the chorus, and Harry captures your mouth in a hot, wet kiss, dipping his tongue assertively into your mouth where you can taste remnants of yourself. Suckling his tongue, you interlace fingers with his, pulling his arms around your back, bringing you in closer proximity to his manhood. And suddenly you're desperate for him again. This won't do. The sand is still here, and you're not quite ready to go back inside yet.

Breaking away from him, you toss your sunglasses to the side and run to the water, yelling " Better than a cold shower any day!" The warm water envelops you within a few steps where the sand fades away. You hear Harry splashing behind you, so you screech and try to swim faster, but his workouts and his regular time in the icy waters of Hampstead Heath pond have made him the stronger swimmer. It's not long before he's grasped you around the leg, pulling you back towards him. Squealing in laughter, you allow him to reel you in. It's only when you wrap your legs around him that you realize he's ditched his swim trunks as well so that you are both skinny dipping in this beautiful blue water.

With your legs enveloping his waist, the desire you had previously abandoned returns with a vengeance, and you want him inside you. Now. Immediately.

"Is that an eel between your legs or are you happy to see me?" you attempt a seductive, growling voice. Instead, you can barely keep a straight face.

Harry, who is always full of puns, sings, "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's a moray."

When you groan, Harry grins wider, "You're going to damage my moray-eel if you don't laugh."

Rolling your eyes, you giggle, "I would laugh if they were good puns."

"Are you shore they aren't good ones?" he implores. "Water boat we have seafood for dinner?"

There's only one way to shut him up when he's in a punny mood, and you aren't afraid to use the technique. Nibbling gently at his lips, you whisper, "Water boat you fuck me now?"

Instantly, his laughter stops as his eyes darken. Swimming backwards towards the beach, Harry bounces you higher around his waist so that your breasts are out of the water. Wrapping his lips around your right breast, he applies gentle suction, and your head tilts back to look up at the bright cloudless sky as you pull his wet hair and moan out loud.