dessert on the deserted beach

Walking on the beach, now that it is fall, holding hands, listening to the waves, feeling the wind blow in, feet bare, toes playing in the sand. The wind is cool, but the sun warm. The tourists have vanished and all is deserted. Crossing over the dune, we are protects of from the wind and can sit warming in the sun, jackets off now, so I see your nipples, hard and inviting pressing against your t-shirt. Looking about and seeing no one, my hand slides up under you shirt to tease, then pinch, gently at first and then harder. You mouth opens and a soft moan escapes. You lie back against the sand, giving me tacit permission to continue, your legs in your tight jeans sliding apart, allowing my hand to press between them and feel your heat, the hint of wetness. As a slide the zipper down, I see the red undies you like to wear and let my fingers roam over the outside of them, feeling how you have already soaked them, your scent drifting up to me, a slightly salty scent, a light hint of musk mingled with a touch of what can closest be described as mussel-like, mouth watering and cock hardening. You let me slide your jeans down off your hips leaving them around your knees, your undies following, as your legs bend open, offering yourself to me, to my mouth, the sun on my back as I lower my mouth to you, my tongue licking out to taste, to probe, to excite. You push up to me, letting my lips suck on yours, as you tighten around my tongue, the pulsing grabbing it and holding it in, sucking it deeper into you, your thighs tightening around me, as your reach higher, wanting more, crying out to the wind, the ocean, the waves, the sun. Spilling yourself into me, my beard drenching, my nose coated with your essence. We roll over and I hold you, close in my arms, in the warm sun, resting.