Although she won't admit it, Elle enjoys semi-public sex. Last night, for example, we went to the beach at dusk. A few people were out enjoying the final moments of the Gulf sunset, but then we had the shore to ourselves. The waves were slow and soft, lapping the shore more like lake than sea. We were kissing to the slosh and slap of these small swells, and I soon had my hand down the front of Elle's pants, two fingers straddling her clitoris and then into the ineffable slickness of her sex. She came almost instantly. Her hot wet cunt clenched my thrusting fingers again and again with a thrilling fervor I couldn't get enough of. Greedily I continued to finger-fuck her. In the end, I had to hold her up or surely she would have swooned into the surf.

The Toilet Bird

At first Elle professed not to like the toilet bird. "He makes me uneasy when I pee," she said of the wooden carved ornament which sits atop the toilet tank in the first floor powder room of our beach rental.

"So you think it's a he," I said.

"Well with a beak like that."

"You think it's phallic?"

"Very. And his eye. His grin. I think he wants to fuck me."

"Who doesn't?" I said.

She laughed. "But can't we put him somewhere else? Just while we're here. Like maybe the closet?"

I laughed. "You think that bird might be secretly gay?"

"Now there's a thought," Elle said. "Yeah, I can see that bird admiring your cock when you piss. Close your eyes and he might peck your pecker off. Swallow it down like an ever-so-tasty water snake."

"You're right," I said. "Let's put him in the closet. And then maybe a quick fuck before lunch?"

"Sounds good," Elle said, "but first I have to pee."

I followed her into the bathroom. "For your own protection," I said.

She gave me a semi-snide smile and sat on the toilet, scooted her panties down. I lowered my pants.

"You're trying to tease him," she said, mid-tinkle. "You're such a cock tease." She opened her mouth and took me in.

I hadn't meant to, but her eyes were so deliciously lewd, I crowed when I came.

"No you didn't," Elle says now, reading this over my shoulder. "You made a sound more like a choking owl. And you're wrong about me not liking the bird."

"What do you mean?"

"When you were taking your nap, I tried him out. He's definitely not gay."