Hollow in the Sand


Simon had been right: there was a new hollow in the surface of the earth, torn out of it by the violence of the gale the night before. Inside it the sand was pristine, smooth. Elena stood with him for a moment looking down into it, wondering at it. Behind them the beach was bare and hostile, swept by the icy wind that still blew strongly in the aftermath of storm that had created this new place.

Her hand in his, Elena allowed Simon to lead her down into the hollow, to its centre, where they stood looking around them. They could not see beyond its rim. The air was completely still where they stood, utterly quiet, as if it were part of a different world.

“We’re completely out of sight,” Simon said. “It’s our own private place.”

Elena leaned her body against his, feeling its strength and angularity and hardness. They had been lovers for only three weeks, giving each other their virginity. At nineteen, Elena knew well that she had remained virgin far longer than her friends; Simon, a year younger, had been acutely conscious of his own inexperience. His body was to Elena still a thing of wonder and delight; she rejoiced in it, explored it, marvelled at it.

They had told each other that they loved each other three months ago. Together they had travelled down the path towards the inevitable that they both desired; and then it had happened, quite unexpectedly for both of them, one afternoon when Elena’s mother had gone out and left them alone. When her mother returned Simon and Elena had installed themselves in the sunroom, ostentatiously watching a video; Elena remembered her mother pausing on her way through to the kitchen as she caught sight of them; she had looked at them searchingly for a moment, then smiled quietly to herself.

There had been no objection from Elena’s parents when she announced shortly afterwards that she intended to spend a week alone with Simon at his parents’ house at Cape Schank.

Elena loved making love with Simon. She loved the feeling of him entering her; every time it was fresh and new, this bursa escort hard, warm bar pushing inside her, filling her completely. She loved to feel him move inside her and his sperm flood into her. She loved the satisfaction and relief she was able to give him. They made love as often as they could find the opportunity; down here on their own, they made love several times every day.

Elena had not expected to have orgasms with him. She had never had one, not even when she masturbated, which she had occasionally done since she was a child. She experienced pleasure from touching herself down there, from being touched down there, and eventually would feel a sense of relief, relaxation of tension; but she had read about orgasms and she had heard other girls talk about them and she knew that what she experienced was not the same. She did not regret the absence. It was enough for her just to be with him. It was enough for her to be made love to by him.

“We’re the first people ever to be here,” Elena said. “Until now, this place did not exist. I feel like an explorer.”

“Are you feeling adventurous, then?” Simon asked, looking in her eyes.

In response, Elena kissed him. The kiss surprised her: she had intended it to be light and friendly, but it was immediately deep and intense; it made her draw her breath sharply. She could sense that Simon felt it too. Simultaneously their bodies moved together and Elena felt as if she were moulded against him, as if the two of them had become a single organism. Without separating, they lowered themselves to the ground, Elena on her back feeling the sand on the back of her head and in her hair, Simon above her. Elena looked up at him. His eyes were deep enough to drown in.

Simon kissed her again and placed his hand on her breast. Elena was suddenly aroused, aroused in a way she had not felt before. It was as if he were touching not just her breast, but her inner being, bringing it alive. She felt a strong pulse down there, down in that place between her legs, making her clench the muscles of her inner bursa escort bayan thighs and her belly and her groin. She pressed herself against him and gripped his buttocks through his blue jeans and strained their centres together. She could feel his hard cock through the layers of clothing.

Elena could not wait. She removed her anorak and began to unbuckle her belt. Simon did the same. In a moment their jeans were off, then their underwear. Simon’s cock appeared enormous in comparison with his body. Elena laid her anorak as a blanket on the sand. She lay on her back, her buttocks on the anorak, and opened her legs. Simon moved above her. They were both hurrying, moving as quickly as they could. She wanted him inside her right now.

She felt his cock against her and reached down to it. She felt for her lips with the fingers of her left hand and parted them; she was moist and slippery inside, ready for him. With her right hand she guided the tip of his cock to her entrance and raised her hips to meet him as he pushed inside her.

Elena gasped as the whole thick, strong length of him filled her at one stroke.

“God!” she heard him exclaim, “Oh, God!” She felt him give a few hard shoves and then she felt him spurt inside her, felt his sperm flooding her. She closed her eyes in contentment and waited for Simon to stop moving, to lie on top of her, heavy and done.

But Simon was continuing to move. He had not done that before. He was pushing and withdrawing still, pushing and withdrawing, faster than he normally did.

“What are you doing?” Elena asked. “Didn’t you come?”

“It was too quick,” Simon answered, a tone of urgency in his voice, “I’m not properly finished.”

He was thrusting even faster now, still as hard as before, still as big and thick, still penetrating as deep, still filling her completely. It was all so strange. Elena felt, for the first time, a sense of something building down there, irritated — no, stimulated — by the movement of his cock inside her. And then something completely new, a sensation escort bursa of something hard at the top of her cunt rubbing against the back of his cock as he pressed in and out of her.

“Can you feel that? ” Simon asked, “That little ridge?”

Elena felt it; it was the core of what she sensed building inside her. She needed to build this thing, to complete it, and she was moving her hips in time with his strokes, pushing as he pushed, withdrawing as he withdrew, pushing the tiny hard thing against his cock, which rubbed it up and down, up and down.

Elena was panting now in time with Simon’s thrusts, jerking her hips more and more violently against him as the pressure in her built; she lifted her arm to place it around him but was so concentrated on the movements of his cock that she forgot to complete the movement. Their thrusts became more and more rapid; she was throwing her hips up against him, uttering a little cry with every jerk. Then suddenly her hips were moving by themselves, uncontrolled by her mind, erupting in a rapid series of jerks like the firing of a machine gun, perhaps ten convulsions, perhaps twenty, she could not think, let alone count, as the unbearable tension within her suddenly, blissfully vanished. And then she felt again him flood inside her, and she realised her eyes had filled with tears. She knew what it was that she had just experienced.

Simon’s thrusting slowed. They pushed their bodies against each other, Simon grinding out the last of his orgasm, Elena accepting it, milking it. She had her arms tight around him, pulling her whole body up against his.

“Oh, I love you,” she heard Simon say. “I love you.” Elena could say nothing. If she had tried to speak she would have collapsed in sobs. She realised that this was what ecstasy was.

Eventually they were both still. Elena stretched out her arm and dragged her jeans toward them, found the tissues her pocket and used them as a mop as Simon withdrew his cock from her. They lay on their backs, both facing the sky. Elena felt as if every last drop of energy had drained from her body. She was spent.

Simon spoke. “That was it, wasn’t it?” he asked.

Elena took a moment to reply. “I feel as if I’m a new person,” she said. “A real person. A woman.”

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