Felicity, Fliss to her friends, wiped the grease from her hands on the faded apron tied around her waist. The chip shop smelled of salt and vinegar, the fryer hissing behind her as she served up another portion of cod to a bleary-eyed regular. It was a quiet night, the kind where her mind wandered, and lately, it wandered to Richard. He’d been coming in for months, always ordering the same thing: haddock, chips, a splash of mushy peas. He was hard to miss, towering over the counter at six-foot-four, his lanky frame somehow graceful, his dark hair perpetually mussed from the coastal wind. She’d started flirting with him almost by accident, a playful quip about his height, a teasing smile when she handed him his change. He’d grinned back, shy but warm, and soon it became a ritual.
She knew more about him than she let on. He swam every morning in the sea, down at the secluded cove a mile from town. She’d overheard him mention it once to a mate who’d popped in for a battered sausage. The idea of him cutting through the waves, water streaming off that lean body, had lodged itself in her head and refused to leave. So, on a whim, with April Fool’s Day dawning, she decided to surprise him.
Fliss woke before the sun, her heart thudding with a mix of nerves and mischief. She dressed deliberately: a short tartan skirt that hugged her hips, a clingy white top that stretched over her full breasts, accentuating their shape. No bra, she wanted the outline to be unmistakable. She slipped on cotton knickers.
As she left her flat and started down the winding path to the cove, the cool morning air brushing her bare legs, she glanced around. No one in sight. With a smirk, she stepped behind a gnarled oak, hitched up her skirt, and slid the knickers off, tucking them into her pocket. The thrill of it made her pulse quicken.
The cove was a hidden gem, cradled by cliffs, the sea a deep, restless blue. She reached the sandy stretch just as the first rays of sunlight spilled over the horizon. There he was, Richard, slicing through the water with powerful strokes, his arms glistening as he swam. She spotted his clothes piled neatly on a flat rock: jeans, a faded t-shirt, a towel. She lingered, watching him, until he noticed her and waved, his face breaking into that familiar grin. He waded out, water dripping from his slim torso, his black Speedos clinging to him. The bulge was impossible to ignore, and she felt a flush creep up her neck.
“Morning, Fliss,” he said, his voice low and rough from the cold. He grabbed his towel, rubbing it over his chest and arms, the muscles flexing subtly beneath his skin. She stepped closer, the sand soft under her boots.
“Thought I’d catch you in your natural habitat,” she teased, her eyes flicking to his Speedos as he started to wrap the towel around his waist. “Here, let me hold that for you.”
He handed it over, bemused, and she held it between them like a shield, positioning it to keep his lower half in view. The fabric of his Speedos strained slightly, outlining everything. She met his gaze, bold as brass. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. I’m a lesbian.”
He chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through her. “Is that so?” Then, with a glint in his eye, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his Speedos and slid them down, letting them drop to his ankles. Fliss’s breath caught. His cock hung there, long and thick, framed by a neatly shaved groin. Even soft, it was impressive, swaying slightly as he shifted his weight.
She kept her composure, adopting a clinical tone. “Most blokes shave to make it look bigger, you know. You don’t need any help in that.” She tilted her head, studying him like a scientist. “It’s a good cock, Richard, long and thick, nice veins, good head with nice ridge, shame it is not cut as they look better that way. Straight women would lose their minds over it. They’d shag you just to feel it, I reckon. Go on, get it hard, let’s see the full show.”
He raised an eyebrow, amused, and wrapped a hand around himself, stroking lazily. But Fliss wasn’t patient. With a huff, she spread the towel on the sand in front of him and knelt, her knees sinking into the fabric. Her skirt rode up as her legs parted, exposing her bare pussy, wet already, glistening in the morning light. She tugged her top off in one swift motion, her breasts spilling free, nipples hardening in the cool air. Before he could react, she leaned forward, batted his hand away, and took him into her mouth.
He groaned, swelling against her tongue, growing thick and hard. The heat of it turned her on more than she’d expected, her left hand gripping his shaft while her right fumbled with her skirt’s zipper. She sucked him deeper, savoring the taste of salt and skin, until the skirt fell away. Standing abruptly, she pressed herself against him, her naked body warm against his damp one. “April Fool’s, fella,” she laughed, her voice husky. “I’m bisexual. Now fuck me, and fuck me hard.”
Richard’s hands were on her in an instant, one cupping her arse, the other sliding between her thighs. His fingers teased her slick folds, then slipped inside, testing her wetness. She moaned, rocking against him, but she wanted more. Pushing his hand away, she turned, bending forward, presenting him her peachy arse and hungry pussy. One hand braced on the sand, the other reached between her legs, she grabbed his cock, guiding the tip to her clit, rubbing it against herself until she was trembling on the edge. Then she angled him inside, and he thrust deep.
The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her pussy clenching around him, trying to force him out. He growled, gripping her hips, fighting to stay buried as he pounded into her. The spasms faded, but the pressure built again, bigger this time. Just as she teetered on the brink, he pulled out, grinning wickedly. “April Fool’s, Fliss. On your back, let’s see if you can cum again.”
She laughed, breathless, and dropped onto the towel, legs spread wide. He loomed over her, his cock glistening with her arousal, and plunged back in.
What followed was raw, unrestrained, a collision of bodies and desire that stretched time into a haze of sensation. Fliss lay back, the towel rough beneath her, sand gritty against her shoulders as Richard positioned himself above her. His cock, still slick from her, nudged her entrance, and she arched her hips to meet him. He drove in hard, filling her completely, the stretch exquisite and overwhelming. She gasped, her nails digging into his forearms, urging him deeper.
His rhythm was relentless, each thrust a jolt that sent shockwaves through her core. Her breasts bounced with the force, nipples brushing his chest as he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue hot and insistent. She bit his lip, tasting salt and the faint tang of the sea, and he groaned into her mouth, his pace quickening. The sound of their bodies meeting, wet, slapping flesh, mixed with the crash of waves, a primal symphony in the empty cove.
Fliss hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him in tighter, her heels digging into his arse. The angle shifted, his cock hitting a spot inside her that made her vision blur. “Fuck, yes,” she panted, her voice ragged. “Harder.” He obliged, his hands sliding under her to lift her hips, slamming into her with a force that rocked her entire body. Her pussy clenched around him, slick and pulsing, building toward another peak.
Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping onto her chest as he worked her, his breath coming in sharp bursts. She reached down, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in frantic circles as he fucked her. The dual sensation, him inside her, her own touch, pushed her over the edge again. She cried out, her orgasm ripping through her, her walls fluttering around his cock. He slowed, riding it out with deep, deliberate thrusts, drawing out every shudder until she was limp beneath him.
But he wasn’t done. Flipping her onto her stomach, he pulled her hips up, her knees sinking into the sand. She braced herself on her elbows, still dazed, as he entered her from behind. The new position let him go deeper, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her back onto him with every stroke. Her breasts swayed beneath her, the cool air teasing her skin, a stark contrast to the heat between her legs. He slapped her arse once, the sting sharp and delicious, and she moaned, pushing back against him.
“Like that?” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. She nodded, unable to form words, and he did it again, the crack echoing off the cliffs. His thrusts grew erratic, his control slipping, and she felt him swell inside her, the telltale sign he was close. She tightened around him deliberately, milking him, wanting to feel him lose it. He groaned her name, a low, guttural sound, and pulled out just as he came, hot spurts landing on her back, marking her in the morning light.
They collapsed together, breathless and tangled, the sea lapping at the shore a few feet away. Fliss laughed, rolling onto her side to face him. “Best April Fool’s ever,” she said, tracing a finger down his chest. He grinned, pulling her close, and for a while, they just lay there, the world reduced to the cove, the sand, and the heat of their skin.
Her hand reached his groin and her heart races as she found him stiffening again.
OxonWoods Man 
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