49. Beach Creampie I

49. Beach Creampie I
꧁꧂Beach Creampie꧁꧂
The secluded stretch of Playa Escondida had always been Mila’s secret escape, but this was the first time she’d come alone.

She is forty-five years old, freshly divorced, tall and slim with the kind of long, toned legs that turned heads even when she was fully clothed.

Her skin was lightly golden, and her dark hair was cut into a sleek bob that brushed her sharp collarbones.

She wore nothing but oversized sunglasses, a sarong tied loosely around her waist, and a thin gold anklet that caught the sun every time she moved.

She chose the far northern end of the beach deliberately, past the last umbrella, where the dunes curved and blocked the view from most of the shore.

From here, only one person could possibly see her: the lone man lying on his stomach about sixty yards away.

He looked young, maybe twenty-six, and even from this distance she could see the lean cut of his shoulders and the way his swim trunks rode low on his hips.

Her nipples hardened instantly as his eyes raked slowly over her body before he turned away quickly.

She smiled. “Perfect.”

Mila spread her oversized turquoise towel in the open sand; the light was perfect and the breeze constant.

She untied the silk sarong from her hips and let it flutter to the ground.

The air kissed her bare skin instantly.

She stood there for a long moment, letting the sun lick every inch of her naked body, letting the one man who could see her drink his fill.

She knew he was watching. She could feel it like fingers on her skin.

Mila lay back on her towel, knees bent as she let her legs part just enough that the breeze slipped between her thighs and teased her clit.

Her hands moved lazily at first, tracing the line of her collarbone, cupping her breasts, and brushing her nipples.

She pinched them lightly, rolled them, let her head fall back so her throat was exposed to the sun.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, loud enough to carry on the wind straight to him.

She stayed like that for nearly twenty minutes, teasing herself, letting the heat build low in her belly until her pussy was slick and swollen.

She knew he hadn’t moved, but she could feel his stare like a physical touch.

Then, some moments later, she heard soft sand crunching under bare feet.

She didn’t open her eyes, just let her knees fall a little wider.

“Mind if I join you?”

The voice was young, warm, a little deep.

Mila lowered her sunglasses just enough to look.
It was him.

He looked so handsome: surfer-tanned, lean muscle, with dark blond hair falling into hazel eyes that were already dark with hunger.

A shy but starving smile tugged at his lips, and his cock, already half-hard, swung heavy between his thighs as he stood over her.

He had purposely taken his trunks off before approaching. He dangled his dick for her, letting her see how big and long he was.

Hmm, perfect, she thought as she let her gaze travel down his body slowly, openly, then back up to his face.

“Only if you’re planning to be very, very useful,” she said, her voice sultry and detached.

His smile widened.

“Of course… I’ll be a good boy.”

He didn’t wait for another reply before dropping to his knees beside her.

“May I?” he asked, staring hungrily at her breasts.

Mila arched her back in answer.

He cupped her tits gently at first, his index finger circling her nipples until she whimpered. His hands were warm from the sun and slightly rough.

Then he squeezed harder, kneading the soft flesh while watching her face for every reaction.

When he leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, she moaned outright.

He sucked slow and thorough, his hot tongue flicking the stiff bud fast and nasty.

His other hand never stopped, pinching and rolling her free nipple, tugging until it was dark red and aching.

Mila’s fingers threaded through his hair, guiding him, pressing him closer.

“Good boy,” she whispered.

He groaned against her skin, the vibration shooting straight to her clit.

His mouth moved lower, kissing a hot trail down her sternum, her stomach, lingering at the soft skin just above her mound.

He looked up at her, his eyes asking for permission.

She spread her legs wider for him, and he settled between her thighs like he belonged there.

He didn’t go for her pussy first.

Instead, he lifted one of her feet—long, elegant, arched high from years of yoga—and brought it to his mouth.

His tongue traced the arch slowly, warm and wet, then swirled around her ankle bone where the gold anklet glinted.

He sucked each toe into his mouth one by one, tongue sliding between them, teeth grazing just enough to make her breath catch.

His big hands massaged her calf, thumbs digging into the muscle while his lips worshipped her foot like it was sacred.

Mila moaned, low and filthy.

“Good boy,” she whispered. “You do know how to worship a woman.”

He groaned against her skin, his eyes fluttering shut like her praise was oxygen.

When he finally moved upward, kissing a hot, wet trail up her shin, over her knee, along the sensitive inside of her thigh, Mila was already trembling.

The first lick was slow, reverent, from her entrance to her clit, tasting her like fine wine.

Mila’s breath hitched.

He did it again and again, his tongue lapping at her like he was starving.

He sealed his lips around her clit and sucked gently, then harder, moaning into her pussy like her taste was driving him insane.

The vibration made her hips buck.

He didn’t rush.

He took his time: tongue circling, flicking, tracing every fold, dipping inside her and fucking her with it until her thighs shook around his head.

His hands slid under her ass, lifting her higher, spreading her wider so he could bury his face deeper. His pointed nose pressed to her clit while his tongue thrust in and out.

Mila’s hands fisted in his hair, guiding and pressing him closer.

“That’s it, baby,” she gasped. “You’re such a good fucking boy.”

He moaned louder into her, the sound raw and desperate, hips grinding against the towel because this—pleasuring an older woman, letting her use his mouth—had been his fantasy since he was old enough to know what a fantasy was.

It didn’t take long before Mila came hard, her back bowing off the sand as a broken cry spilled from her lips.

Her pussy clenched and gushed over his tongue.

He licked her through every pulse, savoring her until she was limp and gasping.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth and chin were shiny with her.

“Your turn, darling,” Mila murmured, her smile slow and sated as she lifted one foot and pressed her sole against his hard cock.

He groaned, his hips jerking hard.

She rubbed slowly, her toes curling around his shaft, heel grinding against his balls.