The wind hit my face harshly as I sat on the white sand, on the beach, on my island. I had been here for two months now, alone, taking my hermitage and spiritual retreat, preparing my mind and heart for my Love, for my Husband. I had been fasting on the island, meditating, spending nights awake staring out at the sea from the clifftop, sleeping in the white sand on the beach. The island was so small, barely more than two acres, and my husband lived on a much larger island nearby. We had traveled in canoes to get to this spot, and he had dropped me off with enough food to last me a month, and me being there for two months, this naturally meant a fast. This was a ritual I had done once a year for the last five years of our marriage together, and I would break the isolation and fast with him every year the same way: with sex in the white sand, in the moonlight, the salty spray of the deep green ocean surrounding us on all sides. The air was warm and moist, the wind fresh and fierce all around.
Tonight was his arrival, and he rowed a few miles to reach me, bringing luxury food and wine for the both of us. When he arrived, pulled his canoe in after setting the paddle down on the side catch, placed it under a palm tree, and took out the vodka and grape fruits he had brought, as well as the delicious lobster tails, scallops, potato wedges topped with a delicious honey mustard sauce he had hand prepared, and buttered soft shelled crabs, all of which he had sauteed at our home for us on the main island. My husband learned how to cook these things from me, and he had prepared them very well I noticed. We now sat under a giant palm tree near the shoreline a ways away from the canoe, sipping the semi-frozen mixture of the best vodka he could get his hands on, mixed with freshly squeezed grapefruits, and a fine sugar having been added to this. We ate for some time like this, pausing in between bites and sips from our glasses, to kiss intimately. I nosed him affectionately quite a lot while we were eating, stopping from time to time, in between bites of seafood and the vodka grapefruit drink, to gently and softly nose him on the neck. He would stop from time to time, the hair bristling like so much fur on his chest, his back upright, to lean in ever so conservatively to give me a french kiss, locking mouths and tongues, as he would suck on my tongue repeatedly this way, and then kiss me on the bridge of my nose.
Time went on into the night as we ate and drank, and eventually time came for dessert. He pulled out a delicious strawberry cheesecake that was still partially frozen, and we lay there in the darkness, the moonlight providing a strong but dim grey light for us, partially in the shade under the palm tree, the roar of the ocean in the background and the strong wind tearing at my waist length hair which I had restrained in the back with a simple scrunchie. The wind massaged our faces so much so that, after awhile he became very relaxed like me, by the wind on his face. He had prepared a mixture of blackstrap molasses and Irish cream liquor, which we drank with the strawberry cheesecake. He stopped every now and then while eating, as I leaned on his chest, resting my plate there, to play with my vagina using his very large but lovingly dexterous hands.
My husband was a brain surgeon, and very skilled with his hands in many ways. After a time of eating the cheesecake and drinking the delicious molasses concoction, both of which I trained him well to prepare, my husband and I began to lie down in the sand and lazily kiss, the heavy wind massaging our faces. I had spent all of those two months clothed in a large one piece dress, wearing a veil that covered everything but my face, bathing in the ocean as I needed to. After a time he pulled the dress up and over my head, and took the scrunchie off of my hair, and we began to make love more and more as the night went on, the clear starry sky in the backdrop, a full and gorgeous milky way in clear view, with no light clouding the view.
He started by continually playing with my pussy using a combination of his index finger going in and out while the thumb massaged my clitoral area, similar but more involved to the motions he would use while we had been eating. After a time of him doing this and passionately french kissing me, sucking on my tongue, passing his lips on the tips of my earlobes and suckling them with his tongue, I began to become a good deal aroused. He had done these things to me for almost an hour while I stared at the sky, my hair obscuring the view from time to time, as I lay there and he worked on me, when I began to hum a soft tune. As I hummed this tune he recognized, very sweetly and softly, he lay down next to me very obediently, awaiting the seductive things this tune hypnotically signaled to him. He became very relaxed very quickly, and I sat up slowly, as he lay there, propping my body on top of his, and I placed my arms and legs on top of his, and lay on his chest, and I told him a story….
“We are in the garden my love, the trimmed hedges all around us, we are in the center of the maze, by the fountain, sitting there, and you imagine yourself bathing me with the seashell clam half in the fountain’s water, palm trees reaching over the acre of hedged maze in the backgrounds, as you bathe me in water. As you pour the water, you can visualize everything so clearly, like sparkle of the sun on the drops of the water, and you will grow more erect as you imagine these sparkles glinting off the water you are bathing me in”
As I said this he became incredibly hard within a span of ten or so seconds, and I whispered “Ah haaa, what do we have here” while I took his penis and gently stroked it in my dainty and delicate, but long fingers, smiling gently, the wind wisping in my hair, my husband’s eye’s closed as he lay there, in a trance.
After some time of gently and softly massaging his penis, I hummed another soft tune, this one much shorter, and he regained control of his left arm, the arm opposite from where I was. He could move nothing else, anchored as he was in place, under the spell of my loving and gentle enchantment. For some time while I stroked him gently in my fingers, he would reach across to stroke my arm and cup my breast softly, his eyes still closed, the rest of his body immovable. I had done this for some time when I hummed another tune and his arm gently but firmly became immobile again, at his side. He was completely aware of everything, as he had been all along, peacefully but excitedly aware, and it was now that I began to suck him, taking his fully erect penis into my mouth, sucking and pausing to kiss his penis every now and then. After doing this for about half an hour he came in my mouth, and it was so delicious I swallowed it whole, pausing then to drink the last of my molasses Irish cream drink, to wash it down. I hummed another tune after giving my husband this oral gift, and he became mobile again. He smiled at me widely, and kissed me silently, as we continued to accept the profound silence between us, embracing each other and the salty ocean spray, the fierce wind all around us. A time went by of us kissing casually, and he became aroused sufficiently that I asked him to enter me from behind and I lay there face and chest up in the white sand. I watched the night sky over his shoulders, the stark and clear milky way galaxy in full view, as he went in and out for what seemed like ages, until I was brought into a state of strong orgasmic waves enveloping me, panting softly as he went in and out, in and out, firmly but gently, at a steady but not too slow pace. I came so much and smiled at him then, and he brought me up to his face, and we kissed, as I wrapped my legs around his back, him holding me there as we kissed.
After this was done, we went back to our home on the island, my retreat having been complete, a journey into myself, to reflect on myself and my husband, and what we had together. It had been a journey inside myself that I took every year, and the sex that sprang forth from it each year on the beach, and in our home on the larger island, was very profound and incredible. A meditation it was, I thought, as my husband rowed the 15 miles back to our home, his strong sinewy arms and hands rowing as I lay in the back of the canoe on my back, staring up at the night sky again, marveling at the majesty of the galaxy spread before me
My name is Alice, I am a poet and a writer, and I am from North Shore, MA. I am a currently single woman (transwoman) in my early 30’s, I am a wytch, an atheist, and I like to output my sexual spirituality by writing for others so that my love can warm, heal, revitalize and uplift other humans.