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Archive name: walk.txt (MF, rom, wife, exh)
Authors name: Frodhi (johnsie@4u.net)
Story title : Walk on the Beach

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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A Walk on the Beach (MF, rom, wife, exh)
by Frodhi (johnsie@4u.net)
Submitted by Don Quixote

***

I can't take credit for this story, although I wish I 
could. It is the most romantic story I have ever read. A 
man surprises his wife with a romantic dinner on a beach 
in the Chesapeake Bay area.

***

Returning from a morning of normal Saturday running-
around chores and errands and having said nothing at all 
to you about it, I noisily sweep into the house smelling 
of barber shop after-shave and firmly separate you from 
the vacuum cleaner. Taking you in my arms as if a 
returning war hero, I kiss you deeply, commanding, "Put 
away your brooms, mops, noxious cleaners and any idea of 
arguing with me, WE are going for a ride." 

You are directed toward the bedroom to change clothes 
with a swat on your pretty butt. It is the middle of the 
afternoon when we emerge from the back door. The sun is 
warm and beats down on my old Chevy brightly, reflecting 
off of my pride and joy from high school, now relegated 
to work car status but just washed and waxed and looking 
like a royal red coach. I open the passenger door and you 
slide across the familiar button tuck bench seat. 

We ride and look around, singing along with the radio, 
but there is nothing new to see, so I, seeming aimless, 
point her toward the beach and let the engine unwind. As 
we park the car you clap your hands and exclaim happily, 
"I love the beach! Why didn't we think of this before?"

We step from the parking surface onto the beach and as we 
walk, our feet sink in. The fine warm sand tickles our 
city feet and presses up between our toes, squeaking like 
tiny mice. We race across the clean white surface down to 
the water to cool our feet. 

Unconsciously, I take your fingers in my hand. Swinging 
our arms together, we skip like happy children playing in 
the shallow foam. What little wind there was is "laying" 
as we skirt the oceans edge, but the high, wispy, torn 
fabric clouds, the small puffy ones and the striated 
middle clouds are scudding quickly across a sun-tinted 
orange and multi-red hued sky out over the water in the 
distance, contrasting with the lingering deep blue still 
overhead and the silver of the gulf's smooth surface. 

Hand in hand we stroll slowly along the edge of the water 
letting it swish past our feet, at times misjudging its 
reach as it washes gently along the sandy expanse. We 
pass the time quietly, soon leaving the popular part of 
the beach, enjoying our commune with nature, walking 
seemingly without purpose, at times our touching is 
intimate, our pace interrupted by a spontaneous embrace, 
lost in each other's presence. 

Walking slowly, we nevertheless cover some distance and 
seem to lose track of time. When you mention how far we 
have come and what time it must be, I pull some oyster 
crackers out of my jacket pocket to feed the gulls and 
other sea birds that have glided in to investigate the 
intruders. 

My heart is full as I watch your face light up, childlike 
in your joy, applauding the birds' ability to catch the 
treats right out of the air when you toss them. Gently 
urging you along, we skip rocks across what the 
Chesapeake fishermen call a "slick cam." 

We stand still, clasped in each other's arms like 
frightened monkeys, gazing out over the sea as the sun 
shimmers and sinks down past the horizon, leaving only 
dim, tiny, orange-reflecting clouds as the last of a 
beautiful sunset. It begins to darken quickly. You say we 
should turn back and how far have we come? 

"Just a bit farther," I say, seeming interested in what 
is just ahead around that next bend. Then, as we approach 
the curve of the coastline, the beach widens and there, 
beside a small shelf or cliff, back up among several 
huge, twelve to fifteen foot high boulders, there is a 
faint iridescence. Wrapping your shoulders in my jacket 
against the gradually chilling air, I tug you toward that 
glow. There are a few chemlites stuck in the sand, their 
energy almost gone. "Wait here for a minute," I request 
mysteriously. 

I slip into the edge of some trees that line the beach 
behind the rocks. Backing toward you, I reappear dragging 
a fully set up tent, complete with blankets, pillows and 
sleeping bags. Straightening out the blankets quickly, I 
disappear again into the trees only to produce a cooler 
full of ice covered fruit and Champagne. Once more into 
the hiding place and I return with a couple of nets, a 
metal trashcan, and dragging a bundle of firewood, tied 
to which is a guitar and a radio. 

Staking out a king-sized blanket in the entrance to the 
small tent, I smile my happy pleasure at your surprise. I 
open the net and ask you to help me tie some small strips 
of bacon to it. Then we take it to the oceans edge and 
cast it out into the water. Striding back to our tent, 
your crooked smile shows fascination and pleased surprise 
at my preparations. I begin to scoop a place in the sand 
for a fire. We break up some twigs for kindling and I 
toss you a lighter before I busy myself untying the other 
supplies. 

Leaving the fire in your capable hands I run with the 
trashcan down to get some ocean water. Returning 
exhausted with the can of water upon my head proves the 
tide is going out. There are few crabs in the bucket 
though, so I must return to recast the net. 

This time, upon my return, I place the can of water with 
the two-dozen or so clams in it in the coals of your fire 
and stack a little more wood around it. Dropping down 
beside you on the blanket breathlessly, I lean into you 
and glance purposefully around the deserted beach as if 
to make sure we are alone before taking your hand in mine 
and stating, "you have no idea how much I love you, 
Baby." 

After a soft but lingering kiss I proudly announce, "In a 
while we will have crab and campfire biscuits." Sliding 
an arm around your waist, I relax against you and click 
on the radio. 

As Nat King Cole croons ."..Mona Lisa, you're so like the 
lady with the mystic smile..." with a practiced flourish 
and a happy, satisfied, entirely too pleased with myself 
smile, I magically produce two Champagne glasses and 
reach into the cooler for the wine. On my knees, I pour 
our glasses to near the top with the nose-tickling 
liquid. I settle and twist the bottle back into the ice 
and raise my glass in your direction. 

"A toast... to the beautiful lady that makes my life 
complete." 

I toss off the entire contents of the glass and lean in 
close to you once more. I feed you strawberries with my 
fingers but then playfully try to steal them with my 
tongue. Unsuccessful with the first one, I attempt again 
with a second. We roll together in mock combat over the 
berries, giggling and laughing together before settling 
on feeding them to each other. 

Soon our supply is gone and we snuggle with our heads 
together to catch our breath. As Nat's velvet gravel 
voice serenades us with "Unforgettable... in every 
way..." I prop myself up on one elbow lying close beside 
you sharing each other's heat as well as that of the 
fire. Taking in the beautiful fire, the beautiful stars, 
the beautiful ocean and the beautiful woman beside me, I 
sigh in contentment and happy satisfaction. 

Man! Life is good...

END

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 24