Sex Sea
by Angela Caperton
The music from the party barely buzzed in Moriah's head, but the vodka tonics she'd drunk kept the limp lyrics circling like guppies despite the quarter mile distance from Lyman's condo. Cool, wet October sand crunched under her bare feet. She had to remember to retrieve her shoes. Wouldn't do to leave them for the hungry tide.
“Here,” she giggled, escaping Mitch's hand before it drifted to her ass. The wild crash of the ocean against the shore blended with the violent assault on the piled boulders on both sides of the rickety pier. Moriah loved this beach--away from the harsh lights of the condos and vacation houses, between the breakwaters that stretched like obscene, groping fingers into the perfect ocean. No one came to the pier anymore, not since Hurricane Wilma ripped it apart. No one but her.
“Are you sure?” Mitch hesitated, staring at the glistening sea through the holes created by the missing planks.
“Yes, I know the way. No one will bother us.” She reached out and stroked his crotch.
She navigated, the thin ribbon of moon just enough of a guide. At the end of what remained of the pier, she waited for him to teeter over.
“Looks like floating emeralds,” Mitch whispered in her ear, his chest pressed tight against her back, cock sharp against the cleft of her ass.
“Plankton. It feeds everything--the fish, the crabs, the barnacles. The Gulf Stream brings it in,” Moriah purred, rubbing against his hips. She turned in his arms. “Did you know barnacles have the longest penises of any animal--proportional to their body size?”
Mitch laughed. “You're kidding me.”
“No,” Moriah breathed as she reached between them and stroked the bulge in Mitch's pants. “Their penises are huge compared to their body size.” Mitch's hands cupped her breasts through the thin rayon dress, pinching the nipples as she stroked with probing fingers.
Mitch pulled her hard against him, growling, “Think I can't measure up?” He kissed her, his mouth fetid with rum and cigarettes. His fingers dug into her arms, grinding the bones with his grip. He lowered his mouth and bit her neck, releasing her arm to tear at her dress.
Calm, Moriah sagged, fingers finding the stiletto in her garter.
Sure as the tides, she wrenched free and arced the shining blade past Mitch's throat. Black blood sprayed her as he fell to the ancient planks.
Her lips curved slowly as she shoved her foot against his crotch, the once solid rod gone. No one heard the splash above the orchestra of the waves, over the raucous lapping against the few remaining pilings.
Moriah waited, watched as the current dragged Mitch out to sea. The Gulf Stream might trade him for plankton. If Mitch's luck held, barnacles might bless his bones. She left the pier to bathe naked in the surf.
Maybe the next one would pass her test of manhood.
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