Vodka, peach schnapps, orange, and cranberry. [F/M]

I've never tried the cocktail. But I've tried sex on the beach.

This is about the time I finally got to have the sex I had fantasised about since I was 15. This is the sex that made me wish time-travel was possible so that 23 year old me could visit 15 year old me and give myself a huge high five and say “we did it kid”

I'd met him in person just 2 days prior, Through Tinder, where else. I’d had trouble with Tinder before. As a woman in a moderate sized town who was consistently DTF I thought I'd be drowning in dick, but too many men seemed to think I was too forward to be sane. Not this guy, We talked for 3 weeks online while I unpacked from moving house and waited for my new tongue piercing to heal before we arranged a date. We'd organised to just briefly meet up after our classes and see what we feel like. What we felt like turn out to be about 6 hours of talking non-stop about our lives and genuinely getting to know each other. Something I haven't experienced from a date in over 7 years. Every word out of his mouth, every detail he shared about himself, was uncannily reminiscent of the man that my teenage self had imagined co-starring in my fantasy theatre.

There was chemistry and it was painfully strong, But our housemates were all home and there was nothing much that could be done that night. So we agreed to work something out sometime.

"Sometime" came just a few hours later when a friend of mine invited me to a casual hangout that weekend that happened to be on the other side of town, where I would be stranded after said gathering. The buses long since ceased and the taxi fare home unfathomable. But what a coincidence, Mr.Holy-fuck-how-are-you-so-perfect happened to live not 10km away from the site of the party. I asked if he'd like to pick me up and drive around locally with me until the first bus of the morning was due to depart. I made it clear that car sex was definitely in the cards, and I packed a picnic blanket.

So the party rolls around and it's the standard do that my usual group throws, some drinks, some cards against humanity. It reached 2am and my friends made their exit, I helped the host tidy the various cans and bottles scattered about until my date arrived. I ran out to meet him, somehow without knowing he'd found an outfit that perfectly matches the exact style I consider irresistible on men, I clambered clumsily into his car with my obnoxiously large bag full of spare clothes, dry shampoo, a picnic blanket and unconsumed alcohol.

Let’s side track for a moment. I spent my early childhood in the country, where everyone drove manual cars, I moved to the metropolitan area long before kids my age were learning to drive, and it seemed that Automatic was the go-to. My dad still insisted I should learn to operate a clutch and told me “stick drivers are sexy”. I never understood what he meant until I climbed into the car this night. I don’t know shit about cars, But I know what it feels like to be turned on by the sight of a man firmly gripping the gear stick and imagining his large hand wrapped around an entirely different stick.

We drove to a quiet and out of the way beach, I’d been there once before when I’d first moved to that side of town, and noted the pretty beach houses and how private the cove was. He clearly had the same idea because we parked the car and began walking along the mangrove dunes until we found a small nest in the banks. I laid out the picnic blanket, and he threw down a duvet he’d packed.

We talked about just spooning and waiting for the sun to rise, But we both knew what we’d really be doing.

It was the first time I was having completely voluntary sex since I left my abusive ex, It was the first time I was choosing to have sex because I wanted to, and not just because I wanted to make some guy happy so I’d feel liked.

His lips were rough, but his hands were soft, his touch was gentle and almost took me off guard. I wasn’t used to someone waiting to feel my pace, I wasn’t used to having someone wait for me to meet them at every step, rather than just grabbing me and charging ahead. He ran his hands over my body, avoiding the places most men dive first. The deliberate feeling of his dodging making my hairs stand on end, my most sensitive area’s begging to be stimulated by his touch.

My new tongue piercing rolled around in my mouth as I kissed him, his tongue gliding over the hard metal. I’d decided to get a tongue bar a month earlier after making out with a man who had one in exchange for some weed. It was one of the most arousing kisses I’d had to that date and I decided I must get a peircing. I’m so glad I did. Sitting on the quiet, dark beach, listening to the sound of waves crashing and the sound of hastened breathing as we kissed, I felt like his tongue had control over mine, that the slight pressure on the bar in my tongue was only a tug away from being able to lead me and direct me. It was BDSM in it’s most subtle form, and it turned me on immensely.

I could feel myself getting more and more wet, my panties sticking to my lips as I moved away from the man causing this response briefly in order to unhook my bra. A true ass-man, he fumbled awkwardly at my breasts, not quite sure how to give me pleasure from it, I pushed myself into him a little more to attempt to accelerate past the groping and get to the truly fun part. I saw his already tight, chinos pulled even tighter at the fly, I slipped off my own skirt and panties and jumped underneath the duvet, protecting my bare skin from the cold sea breeze.

He slid off his trousers and pants and joined me under the covers, My hands wandering down his chest, exploring the curve of his muscles, delicately concealed, That perfect level of casual fitness before you start to enter the intimidating realm of “too buff” that I personally find off putting. His skin was soft, softer than any man i’d ever been with. I recalled at how much I’d missed the soft, supple skin that you get from dating women, and how here was that same sensation, layered on top of the firm and comforting muscle you find in a man. My fingers traced the outline of his body all the way down, past his navel, Slowly, carefully and without visual assistance, wondering what I would find.

When my hand finally came into contact with his cock, I threw the covers back in alarm to get a proper look. He likes to remind me that I actually vocalised the words “holy shit” in response to his cock. My first thought was how I was going to fit my hand around it, followed by hoping he’d brought bigger condoms than I had. I’m not a size queen, Quite the opposite, I have vulvodynia, a condition which causes genital pain, I’d previously, specifically seeked out men who were less likely to cause pain upon entry. But in front of me stood, yes, quite literally stood the perfect example of a size queen’s wet dream. I tentatively tried wrapping my palm around his rock hard shaft, but just a few strokes confirmed that I would not be able to maintain the pressure on such a large surface area. If you’ve read my other r/gonewildstories posts you’d know I usually skip the handjob in favour of my mouth, which I’m far more confident with, But my tongue piercing was still tender, and caught me painfully on his frenulum with each stroke.

I knew the next step, but I secretly dreaded the pain that penetration may cause, I asked him to finger me, expressing clearly that I was nervous about his size. He admitted to having never really fingered a girl before, and without really thinking I situated myself on his right side, forcing him to use his non-dominant hand.

His fingers copied mine, gently tracing out my curves as he ran his hand down my naked body. Both of us, huddled together under the steamy duvet while chilling air wrapped around us outside. My naked body pressed against his as his hand slid lower and lower. His fingers danced playfully around the outside of my lips, I could feel him second guessing himself as he slid his fingers up and down the length of my vulva, exploring intently, watching my face for signs of pleasure.

From there it was clunky and a little clumsy, But I didn’t care, I was insanely horny and despite my mental hang ups on the size of his cock my body ached with the desire to feel him inside of me. We broke apart to rummage through our bags for condoms, The first coming from his collection, He tried, unsuccessfully, to roll the standard fit onto his not so standard shaft. The second condom came from my collection, a slightly cheaper brand that had more stretch to it, we could at least get it on.

Keeping it on was another issue. It kept snapping off, digging in, cutting off circulation. We phaffed around for ages, trying different twist and lock techniques, foreskin retracted, foreskin pulled down, you name it. We went through most of the packet, breaking some and giving up on others.

So a chat that I normally reserve for serious, long term exclusive partners came early. I was tested recently and clean, He was a low risk for anything, I had faith in my contraception, we put the condoms back in the bags and climbed back under the covers.

My heart was racing, All this bother with trying to prepare was just making me more and more hot and bothered. I wasn’t scared for the size anymore, I was desperate to feel him fill me up completely.

I moved the covers off while I climbed over him, one leg on either side of his, I lifted my hips and grabbed his cock, the distance between my thumb and index finger consciously noted as being further apart than anything i’d have previously considered inserting into my vagina. I was absolutely dripping wet at this point, the head of his cock pressed lightly against my parting lips sent electric shocks down my spine. His skin gliding against my skin as I lowered myself onto him, still grasping him tightly with my hand, guiding him in, slowly, slowly, so as not to hurt myself.

It felt tight, but he slid in with ease, hours of foreplay had done its job, I felt like I wanted to explode, the pressure from his cock inside me, the feeling of my heart racing in my chest. His hands gripping my thighs and my head rushing from the excitement as I realised I was completely naked, on a public beach, at 4 in the morning, riding the sexist man on earth. For a split second I thought I was about to orgasm instantly, But I knew my body better, It needs a little more TLC. I leaned over to whisper my question into his ear. “Can I touch myself while I fuck you?” he turned his head to kiss me tenderly, In my excitement I genuinely don’t remember his answer, only that he wanted me to touch myself. I leaned back, and lifted my hips, angling myself so that he would make contact with my g-spot on every thrust. My hands traced over my own body this time, not his. the familiar sensation of my skin beneath my fingers as I lightly grazed over my breasts, circling my nipples, erect and incredibly sensitive from both arousal and the freezing sea breeze.

I lowered my hands, my fingers meeting with the warmth of my lips, My entire pelvic area aching with increased blood flow and the need to cum. I slid my fingers over my vulva, circling my clitoris, which was hard and engorged, begging to be touched. I barely had to move, My hand applying pressure to my crotch as the man beneath me firmly, yet gently thrusted into me, forcing my hand to drive down onto my groin, My nerve endings stimulated by his hard cock throbbing inside me and my own hand, soaked in my own lubrication, teasing my incredibly sensitive clit.

I lost count after 3 orgasms. The secluded area of beach we had provided the privacy I needed to let go of all my inhibitions. moaning loudly in pleasure and squirming under his touch as I came again and again, my muscles clenching hard around his cock each time, making my orgasms even more intense. Sweat was dripping off me, the cold breeze was a blessing, the sensation as it hit my warm skin tingled and added to my already uncontrollable arousal. The sand slid around under my heels, making rhythmic movement difficult. we had the same issue in missionary and doggy style, with both of us losing grip with the sand where our feet or knees made contact with the earth.

As a result the sex was clumsy and clunky, But despite it all we both ended it, utterly exhausted, utterly satisfied, My heels slipping constantly as I moved my hips backwards and forwards, riding him while he gripped my thigh and looked into my eyes as he came. His orgasm all to quiet to notice if it wasn't for how sensitive I was down there. Every rope of his cum shot into me with force that made me feel like I was being fucked hard all over again.

The excitement over, the chilling sea air gripped our naked, sweaty bodies, and we once again huddled together closely under the blankets. Our breath regained, we reflected on the experience, and questioned where it left us, He asked me if I would like to be his official girlfriend, something I never expected anyone to want of me given my history, I cried at the thought that someone so perfect thought just as highly of me as I did of them. We stayed there until after sunrise, I rambled about my past, and he held me and listened to every word. I felt safe, I felt protected. I felt happy to be having sex again.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/40svqh/vodka_peach_schnapps_orange_and_cranberry_fm