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Shell Game
It was their third day. As before, they’d spent the morning in bed. “You know what they say,” Kristen told Gary, “if you put a shell in a jar each time you make love during the first year, and take a shell out each time after that, the jar will never be empty.”
“Well, let’s go get some more shells,” Gary said.
He put on a pair of shorts and a shirt, Kristen fastened her two-piece, a skimpy affair with a black and white pattern of interlocking curves and crescents, which Gary had told her made him want to rip it from her body with his teeth. Holding hands they strolled out of their rental condo, along the boardwalk, and down the wooden stairs to the beach. The tide was up the most it had been, and the sea was roiling. Dark clouds spread across the distant sky. The couple began walking into the wind. “I don’t know how much time we’ll have,” Gary said. He had to speak loudly for Kristen to hear, even though they were side by side, still holding hands.
“A little water never hurt anybody,” Kristen announced. “I’m going in.” And she broke off the handhold.
At first Gary thought she meant she was returning to the condo, but she stepped bravely into the churning sea. “Watch out for the sharks,” he called out—they’d been told there were quite a few of them in these waters—but the fierce wind swallowed his words. Gary was content to stick to dry sand. Gary kept his head down, turning to Kristen only when he heard a faint squeal. “Come in!” Kristen shouted, after getting to her feet. “It’s so fun!” Gary laughed and shook his head in an amused way. Kristen seemed determined to tame the raging surf. The storm clouds were definitely closing in.
Gary closed his eyes and faced the wind’s onslaught. He breathed deeply. His moustache still held the scent of Kristen’s sex; it went well with the strong sea air.
“Look,” Kristen said, skipping up the slope of wet sand to join him. “Look what I found. Isn’t it a beauty?” She showed Gary the shell.
“Very nice,” he said.
“You know what it reminds me of?” Kristen said, speaking loudly to overcome the noise of wind and waves.
Gary shook his head.
“Guess.”
Gary shrugged.
“You have no imagination,” Kristen chided him. “It’s like your penis coming out of its shell.”
“Its shell?” Gary questioned.
“Uh huh.” Kristen smiled impishly.
Gary shrugged again.
“Now you find one for me,” Kristen said.
“I don’t know if I can,” Gary said.
“How can that be?” Kristen said. “Look, there’s a million of them.”
“I know,” Gary said. “Too many to choose from. And you’re unique.”
Kristen feigned a look of annoyance.
“Okay, okay,” Gary gave in. A moment later he bent down and picked up a shell. “Here, how about this one?”
“That one?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t get it,” Kristen complained. “What’s special about that one? It’s plain pinkish gray.”
“It’s subtle,” Gary said. “The colors and the shape. It’s like your… your pubis.” Gary smoothed his thumb over the small, rounded swell at the shell’s base. “And see how it twists?” he went on, running his thumb up the curving fan of shallow grooves. “That’s like you straining to reach orgasm when you masturbate.”
“It is?” Kristen said, her eyes flashing interest. “You’re fooling me.”
“No, really, this is a very sexy shell, and you’re very sexy when you masturbate.”
A spray of raindrops hit them then. A light spatter, at first, followed almost immediately by the full gush.
“Wow, this is wild,” Kristen said, throwing out her arms to embrace the rush of seaside storm. “And we have the beach to ourselves. Kiss me!”
Gary kissed her. He kissed her deep and hard and long. The fierce rain pelted against them all through the kiss.
“I am so soaked,” Kristen announced, when at last they broke. “We’d better make a run for it.” Without waiting for Gary, she dashed towards the distant stairs.
Through the sheets of whipping rain, Gary admired the way she looked running, the tight clench and release of those interlocking crescents on her ass, and then he set off after her. He caught her just before the stairs, and turned her in his arms, and kissed her again, as long and deep and hard as before. Then, holding hands, they hurried up the steps and along the boardwalk and into their rental condo. Inside, lust in their eyes, they stripped quickly to nakedness. Gary was about to kiss her, when she said, “Wait. Oh no! Oh fuck! I think I lost your penis shell.”
“Ha!” Gary snorted.
Kristen frowned.
“Do you want me to go back for it?” Gary offered, his voice soft and gentle.
“No, that’s okay.”
“But what about filling up our jar?”
“Aw, you’re so sweet,” Kristen said, dropping to her knees. “But I think it’s a metaphorical jar, and this will be a more than adequate substitute.” She took Gary’s penis into her mouth.
By the time they had finished with each other, the rain had stopped and the sun had come out again.
“Want to go for a beach walk?” Kristen asked as she slipped into a sundress of bold, breast-shaped circles.
Gary donned a fresh shirt and shorts, took her hand, and they set off once again. Outside on the beach a boy was flying a kite. Two men were fishing. The sun was glinting off the rowing waves. “You make me feel so good,” Kristen said. “I’m so glad I married you.”
“I’m glad, too,” Gary said.
“Do you really like the way I look when I masturbate?”
“I do.”
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I think I’m ready to go again.”
“I don’t know if I can…” Gary stated.
“Let’s find out,” Kristen said.
Together they turned and went in. Together they discovered that he could.
An hour later, Kristen sighed. “That was the best ever.”
“It was,” Gary agreed. “I think we’re going to need a bigger jar.”
story and illustrations by Mat Twassel |
