The Beach House Confession

“Excuse me, but where are my clothes?” asked Gordon as he walked up the beach towards the two women who’d been watching him while he swam.

Neither of the women moved other than turning to glance over their shoulders towards what was just an expanse of empty sand, and then turned back to face him. The one on the left seemed somewhat embarrassed as she explained how sorry they both were, but he was the only person either of them had noticed.

He continued protesting “Even my towel has gone, and I’m getting cold stood here dripping wet in just a pair of bathing trunks!”

“We’re very sorry,” said the one on the right waving a pair of dark glasses in the air, “but we haven’t seen them and it’s not as though either of us has a towel we could lend you.”

He looked down at the two women sat on the beach a couple of yards in front of him. Both of them were wearing large sun hats and bikinis under thin summer dresses fluttering in the gentle sea breeze which clung to outlines of their slender bodies. The one on the left was probably in her late forties, with shoulder-length fair hair greying at the edges, and the one on the right probably about five years older with much shorter hair dyed a very dark shade of black. From a distance, both of them had figures which could easily have passed for women two decades younger, but from where Gordon stood, the wrinkles along the top of their lips, and the crow’s feet around their eyes were starkly indicative of their ages in the harsh light of the setting sun.

“I’m sorry,” he said to nobody in particular, but looking directly at the only two other people on a deserted beach, “I’m overreacting and it’s not your fault.”

The two women stood up at the same time and gestured towards a pair of single-storey beach houses about quarter of a mile away. “Well the least we can do is offer you our hospitality.” said the one with dark hair, “We’re staying in the first house over there all week, so if you want to come back with us and dry out? We can then see about finding you something to go home in.”

Gordon nodded as the three of them walked across the sand, adding to each other’s polite introductions with small talk about who they were and why they were there. He explained how he’d just finished college for the summer, and how he’d been swimming as part of his training for a triathlon he was intending to compete in, and the two women told him how they’d both just been thru particularly messy divorces and had rented the beach house for a week to relax and get over the stresses of their respective court cases.

As they went up the wooden stairs and onto the decking, the dark-haired one he now knew to be called Irene told him to go thru the door and turn immediately left, and the shower was directly in front of him. He did as instructed, walked past a hamper with some towels on top, entered the cubicle, took off his trunks and dropped them on the drain just outside the shower door.

The hot shower felt fantastic on his cold skin, and the lather from the scented soap filled the small space with the smell of vanilla causing him to stop wondering if a thief could sneak up unheard behind two women, even on a beach two miles from the nearest road.

He stopped showering when the water began to cool, and opened the cubicle door to reach for a towel, but found only the wicker hamper, and there was nothing on top of it. He looked up and down the short corridor, but saw nothing, not even the trunks he’d left on the drain.

“Hello! Irene! Laura! Are you there?”

He waited but didn’t get a reply, and so stepped out of the shower with both hands covering his genitals, and continuing to shout out to his hosts, but heard nothing. He got as far as the front door and saw them both sat on the decking wrapped in the towels he’d seen earlier, giggling as they drank glasses of red wine while they watched the setting sun.

He pushed the door open with his foot and apologized for his nakedness “Er, sorry, but I couldn’t see a towel and my swim shorts have disappeared”

They turned round slowly and started to smile “Oh sorry, but we were getting cold, and these are the only towels we have” said Laura as if by way of explanation, “and the dog’s probably run off with your trunks. She does that with anything she finds on the floor.”

“Dog?” said Gordon, “you’ve got a dog? Where is it?”

“She’s run off down the beach somewhere,” replied Irene, “but don’t worry she’ll bring your trunks back eventually. She won’t bury them in the sand or anything like that …..So sit down and have a glass of wine while you wait.”

“But I’m naked,” said Gordon, “so would one of you please pass me a towel?”

The two women started laughing. “And so are we,” said Laura pointing at the two pairs of bikinis hanging over the decking rail, “so one of us handing over a towel wouldn’t be particularly appropriate now would it?”

Irene lifted the dark glass by her right hand bottle and passed him the small table cloth it had been sat on along with a glass of deep red wine. “Please excuse our little joke Gordon. We just want to watch the sun set and then we’ll go inside and find you something rather more……. fitting to put on.”

Gordon smiled, sat on the chair nearest the steps, took the glass from Irene, and the three of them sat chatting until three bottles of wine were empty and the sun had disappeared behind the horizon.

“More wine Gordon?” asked Irene Harris gesturing towards the doorway, “and you must be getting cold sat out here now the sun’s gone down.”

He nodded, stood up and went inside trying desperately to hold the small square cloth in place with one hand, and his empty glass in the other while two giggling women shuffled along behind him, each of them gripping their towels in one hand and a bikini and a glass in the other.

Laura Jennings lit a small fire with old newspapers and what looked like driftwood while Irene poured three more glasses of cabernet and then said very thoughtfully “Come to think of it Gordon, we don’t have anything that would actually fit you. You’re about twice our width and at least six inches taller than either of us. And we only brought beach wear. No jogging pants or anything like that.”

Gordon Lister nodded again as he asked “So we’ll have to wait for your dog to bring my trunks back and then maybe leave here with a towel wrapped around my shoulders?”

Both women started laughing as Irene Harris offered to drive him wherever he wanted to go “when the wine had worn off” while Laura Jennings sheepishly confessed that they didn’t actually have a dog, and that his trunks were buried in the sand at the bottom of the steps outside the beach house.

Gordon had drunk too much wine to be upset, and found it almost as funny as they did, even when the two women explained how they’d be able to find his trunks in daylight, but it was now pitch black out there.

“How about you stay here tonight and I’ll drive you in the morning?” asked Irene filling up all three glasses even though none were less than half full, “but we need to know that we’ll be safe.”

“Safe?” asked Gordon puzzled as Irene Harris replied to what was more of a thought spoken out loud than a question “Well, we are two vulnerable women all alone miles from anywhere with a naked man we’ve only just met. And even though we both do spin classes and Pilates and so on, we wouldn’t be able to fight you off now would we?”

“And if we’re sure we’ll be safe, all three of us can share the blankets if gets colder,” added Laura, staring to slur and emptying her glass. Gordon Lister agreed. He didn’t know if it was the amount of wine he’d drunk, of the soft light of the flickering fire, but both women now looked much younger and with an air of innocence that had been missing when he’d met them. “Whatever you want,” he said, “I’m grateful for your hospitality and wouldn’t want either of you to feel uncomfortable.”

“We don’t really know how to say this, but we’d be happier if you let us tie you up” said Irene looking towards her friend for confirmation, and then back at Gordon when she’d nodded.

“Er, ok, I suppose. I don’t want the two of you feeling apprehensive or anything,” said Gordon, “but what with?”

Laura Jennings stepped towards him holding both halves of her bikini in one hand and asked him to sit on the floor “So we’re all agreed then? You’re happy for us to do whatever we’re comfortable with?” She didn’t wait for answer as she added “These will have to do”.

He did as requested and Laura Jennings carefully tied his ankles together while he tried to keep the one-foot-square piece of cloth in place over his lower stomach with one hand while drinking with the other and trying desperately not to get aroused.

Irene Harris then took the glass off him, and without speaking moved his hands together and tightly bound his wrists with her black bikini top, before slowly pushing him backwards onto the floor and using the bottom half of her bathing suit to secure him to the corner of the heavy ornate fire surround.

His attempt to hide how erotic he was finding the experience failed miserably. The small table cloth rose like a magician’s stage trick, propelled upwards by the rapidly growing erection it was pitifully inept at covering.

“Sorry about that,” he protested embarrassingly, “I’ve not been in a situation like this before.”

“We have,” replied Laura sounding far less drunk than she had five minutes earlier, “but not at the same time.” “And not for quite some time either,” added Irene, “so we hope you’ve got as much stamina as you claim you have. Neither of us has ever had a triathlete before.”

“Sorry?” asked Gordon puzzled, “stamina for what?”

“For the two of us,” replied Irene pointing at his fully erect penis which had sprung free of its cloth covering and starting to laugh, “we want to try out a triathlete, and you obviously want to….”

Gordon started to speak, but was stopped by Irene putting her finger to his lips. “Shhhh. Your mouth might say one thing, but your erection doesn’t lie. And let’s be honest here, how many men haven’t had dreams about doing it with two women at once?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer. Irene Harris stood up, unfastened the towel from around her chest so it dropped to the floor beside him, and gently lowered herself down onto his face at the same time as Laura Jennings sat on his stomach and pushed his erection deep inside her.

The two women writhed around on top of him, changing places so that they faced each other, changing back again so they both faced down his body, and changing back again so they both faced away from his feet until he finally exploded inside Laura Jennings and Irene Harris shuddered her orgasm all over him before carefully standing up and wiping his face with the towel at the side of his head.

Laura then slid off his now-flaccid penis, up his chest, and taking a refilled glass of wine from her friend, placed herself where her friend had just been sat, took a large gulp, and said “Carry on Gordon. Where’s that stamina you were bragging about?”

He licked and sucked and licked until Laura Jennings’s own orgasm tremors battered his head against the hard wood floor and rolled off him into the arms of Irene where they wrapped their arms around each other and gave mutual kisses of satisfaction at a job well done.

He couldn’t speak. His mouth, tongue and jaw all ached too much, and each time his lips moved, one of the women poured some more wine into him while the other stroked her fingers all over his body until eventually one of them noticed that his stiffness was returning and Irene Harris stood up, stepped over him and gently lowered herself down onto his erection.

He thought that he’d had four orgasms when the sun rose and they finally untied him, but he knew that each one of them had had far more than that, and at least one of them, or possibly the same one twice, had had an intense vaginal orgasm with him inside her.

He sat slowly upright on the wooden floor as the two exhausted women sat down on wicker chairs. “We’re sorry about getting carried away like that Gordon, but you’ve got such a terrific physique.” said Irene beginning to blush, “The bit about tying you up was part of a joke Laura had made just before you came out of the shower, we didn’t think you’d let us, but when you so obviously ……. indicated that you were finding it ….well…..we’d had a little too much wine to respect any sort of personal boundaries. We’ll get your shorts and then one of us will drive you home.”

“There’s no need,” he replied, “but thank you anyway.”

The two women looked at each other, and then turned towards him. “Are you sure? It’s the least we could do after all we’ve done. Hiding your trunks so you’d nothing to go home in, persuading you to let us tie you up as condition of staying here, and then just using you like that because you sort of said it was ok for us to do whatever we were comfortable with. Over and over….”

“There’s really no need to apologize for anything,” said Gordon, “I’ve got a confession of my own that might make the two of you look at last night differently.”

Irene and Laura both spoke at the same time, “How?”

“If you really are sorry about a joke that got a little out of hand, then you might not feel quite so apologetic, and if you don’t feel sorry at all, but are actually reveling in your manipulation and dominance of an inferior man as some way of getting your own back on your husbands….”

Irene interrupted him, “Are you saying that you’re strong enough to have snapped our bikinis if you’d really wanted to? Or that there wasn’t any need to tie you up and …… just take advantage of the situation because you’d have had sex with us anyway? That was never going to happen. Neither Laura nor me are interested in any sort of sex where the man isn’t completely in our control.”

“No,” said Gordon starting to smile, “Once you’d tied me up I was as totally helpless as the two of you so obviously wanted me to be. I’m saying that I never left any clothes on the beach; it was just an excuse to talk to you. I’m staying in the house next door as part of my training program, but as we’re going to be neighbors for the next week, if the two of you would like to think of some other ways of testing my stamina …”


2 thoughts on “The Beach House Confession

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s