Crossed the line

It is August and the chance to have an extra week away, a break down to the coast, somewhere which we haven't been for many years.  Revisiting a place I've been so many times before, as a young child, as an adult, as a parent.  Taking the time at the end of the day, to watch the sun setting out over the sea, taking some photos and taking some time in thought after the chaos of a busy day. 



I am sat on the dunes watching the sun set over the waves that are crashing over the rocks and onto the shore where only a short time earlier, families had been spending the day in the last of the summer sun. 

The sky is painting such a beautiful picture, a myriad of colours amidst the clouds in the sky, the colours reflected in the breaking waves and surf as it crashes onto the beach.  It is a beautiful time to be there.  The quiet at the end of the day, there is an eery silence, no screaming children, no families playing on the beach, just the noise of the waves and the wind and an occasional person walking their dog, a couple walking hand in hand ankle deep in the chilly waters, a hardened surfer catching the last of the days surf.

I had sat in this same place many years before, except the feelings back then, were so different to the ones I was having now.

You had been sat next to me.

I don't even know why we had come away, only a few days before your betrayal had been uncovered.

The secrets and the lies.

And although this time I was able to sit with peace and quiet, memories of family holidays taken even years before you in this very place, that time with you I had sat with hurt, with anger, with all of the feelings that your betrayal was leaving in its wake.  Trust broken. A relationship destroyed. A heart aching for what had been.

Back then, the reality lay heavily upon us, there were no words or actions that would or could ever put it right. The only thing I had always said to you was that I needed your honesty, the only “rule” that had been there. That the moment that there was a lie, was the moment that really was it, even if it was the beginning of the end, just like it had been back then.

I don't know why we had come.

A bit like those people who go through with a wedding just because everything is paid for, even though you already know it is going to be a disaster.

That was the same with us.

We had come away because it was all paid for. You had visions of it being the trip that could “fix” what had happened. Except there was nothing that would ever be strong enough to fix what you had done. There never could be.

I don't know why I had agreed to come.

Even though the sunset ahead of me back then had been beautiful, just like the one I was watching now while remembering, the feelings that had engulfed me weren't.

I have always loved watching the sunset, nothing more perfect than watching it set over the sea, nothing to see for miles apart from the changing colours of the sky, reflecting in the moving waves.

The sunset ahead of me now, reminded of the one that we had watched in this very place many years before.

How things had changed since that time.

You had said we could use this time to talk. Except every time there was the opportunity, that every time I asked why, your eyes would fall in the direction of your feet, and the same answer of “I don't know” would be the only thing that would escape your lips before the tears escaped from your eyes.  You couldn't look me in the eye.  And I knew even when you said something, what was now the truth or not.

We had explored so much in the years that we had shared.

But, you knew there was a line.

It had been there from the very beginning and now you were finding out the consequences of what happens when you step over it. Except, I was finding out just how hard it was, of just how it felt, of just how hard it was to be letting go.

I was hurt. Betrayed. Heartbroken.

I had cried many tears during those early days, but the tears had turned to a pain and an anger that burned like a fire out of control. 

And during the time we had spent together away, while sat in this same place that I was only recently, back then you had thought that “make up sex” was enough to make it better.

We had always had such great sex.

You had been so eager to please, eager to learn how to please. You had spent many hours buried between my legs, your tongue buried deep inside of me. You had learned to delay your orgasm while you fucked me. Your cock filled me in a way no-one ever had, or has since. I loved the way you stretched me, filled me. I made you beg to go down on me after you had come inside of me, licking me clean. I will always remember the look of humiliation burning in your face and that made me want to force you all the more.

And here we were.

The coolness of the air mixing with the warmth of the setting sun. Your hand was trailing up and down my thigh. I could read you like a book, just like I always had done. I didn't acknowledge you, instead I continued to look out over the sea, watching the changing shapes of the clouds. Your fingers found their way between my legs and I hated right then just how my body always reacted to you, of how my cunt throbbed with the longing, of how my body betrayed itself from the wetness that was already finding its way over your fingers. It was as if you were trying everything to make the previous week disappear from happening. Except it had. It couldn't be ignored, it couldn't just be wiped away, however much I wish that it could have.

You brought me to an intense orgasm, my moans being lost in the sound of the waves still crashing down onto the shore. Except you weren't finished and I was lost to the intense feelings of arousal that you never failed to bring to me.  I didn't care about anything at that moment.  All of the feelings that we had shared, all of the things that we had done, flooded through me. 

And there on the sand dunes, you forced your fist deep into my cunt, in just the way I had taught you, and you fucked me hard with your fist, almost punching deep inside. I loved the way that your hand stretched me, filled me, hurt me. I lost count of the amount of times that you forced an orgasm from my body each time your fist punched inside.  I could feel my own juices gushing out over your hand, down over my thighs, dripping onto the sand beneath me.

Your other hand finding its way to my arse as you started to find your way in with your fingers filling me up even more. Oblivious to whoever may be close, whoever may have seen, you fucked my arse as hard as you fucked my cunt, and I was riding your fists lost to the wave of orgasms that took over my body. As I lay there totally spent, my body recovering from the intensity of the orgasms that had ripped through my body, I shivered from the dampness of my exposed skin as the breeze moved over me.

How could things have gone so wrong between us, when so many things were so right?

I had led there, closed my eyes and almost for a moment nothing was wrong, everything was perfect.

Except it wasn't.

Even when you buried your head between my legs, your tongue buried deep inside lapping up the juices that you'd already forced from my body. You had begged to fuck me, but my body couldn't take much more. My insides were feeling sore from the hard fisting that you had given me, but even those feelings couldn't take away the pain that my heart was feeling.

But you stayed there, your tongue gently teasing me, tempting me, drawing my clitoris back out where you sucked on it, gently biting it, and soon the feelings within my body of longing returned. While you sucked, while your tongue found its way deep inside me, your fingers spread the cheeks of my arse where you tongue found its way, deep into its depths. You knew how much I loved your tongue there, and as it darted in and out of the depths of my arse I heard you moan and groan as you tasted me.

I felt the hardness of your cock against my leg, and I wanted you, buried deep inside me, stretching me. I wanted to be totally fucked, my body left stretched and filled; filled with you. Knowing that really it would be the last time that it would be.

"Fuck me."

And you had not needed to be asked twice, you positioned yourself behind me, knowing that I loved to be in this position so I could feel you deep inside me.

And you did.

You fucked me long and hard, pushing me down into the sand, all of the hurt and the anger that had been buried within coming out as I screamed at you to fuck me harder. I wanted it to be pushed out, to be forced out, and I had always loved your cock inside me, loved to feel you inside me, I loved to feel you cum deep inside me. And my orgasms were building and washing over me, and you were asking to cum, and I wasn't ready for you to yet.

"Fuck me harder dammit."

And you did, pulling my hair, fucking me deep, pulling on my shoulders so you could get your cock deep inside as hard and as far as you could.  And I was hurting from where your fists had filled me only moments before, and it felt as if all of my insides were being forced out of me, taking the pain and the hurt that you had caused.  But it wasn't enough. It still wasn't enough.  I wanted more. I wanted that hurt of the heart pushed away. And although I knew it would hurt, I wanted you deep within me.

"Fuck my arse now."

I saw the hesitation in your eyes.

"Goddamit, do it now will you?!" I had shouted at you, leaving you with no doubt of what I wanted.

And you withdrew from my red and sore cunt and forced the length of your cock straight into me, I screamed with the force that you took me, the orgasm ripping through my body as you continued to fuck me, to stretch me.

I had been the only person who had been able to take your size in my arse, and you had learned over time to control your orgasm for as long as I had wanted. It had brought tears to my eyes on many occasions as we had learned together how to get you to fuck me, to stretch me. You learning how to do it, my body learning how to take such an intrusion, which often screamed out with the pain that seared through my body.

And you begged me, begged to be allowed to come.

"No. Just stop."

My body couldn't take any more.

I was sore and hurting, stretched and my whole body ached from the abuse I had ordered you to inflict upon me. My cunt was stretched wide, my arse was sore, throbbing with the fisting and fucking. But I needed this. I wanted this one last memory of how it felt, knowing that there would not be another time.

The confusion in your eyes, the glazed look in your eyes I knew you were desperate to come. Your arousal was clear for all to see, as your hard cock which was wet with my juices protruded out from your body.

I looked at you, put my hands between my legs as I brought myself to an orgasm, my juices over my hand I wiped it across your face, mixing with the juices that were already there and the sand which had already stuck to you. Your mouth automatically opened to taste my fingers, to lick them clean, just as you'd always done.

You were led there confused. I stood then, my whole body shaking from the wave after wave of orgasm that had coursed through me.

I stood to the side of you, relieving myself into the sand, the breeze blowing the warm liquid over your face, over your hair, all over you.  And as I dressed I turned to you and said “You want to come. Then bring yourself to an orgasm”

“You want to do things on your own. Do this on your own. You won't ever do so with me again”

And with that, I left you there.

Walking away, not looking back.

I couldn't bear to stay even though such a big part of me wanted to. I didn't want to hear your empty apologies. I didn't want to hear you begging and pleading saying that things could be ok. I didn't want to see the tears that fell from your eyes.  I didn't want to hear your empty words when you said that things could be ok.

They couldn't.

They never could.

You had crossed the line. There was no going back.