San Diego Sunset Read online

  He passed the "Mushroom House" his ex had mentioned so long ago and now approached the yellow post with the letters "TPCB," signifying Torrey Pines City Beach, which he knew marked the end of the San Diego city area. It also marked the unofficial beginning of the "clothing optional" zone. Technically, nudity was now prohibited here, too, and there was even a sign that said so by the yellow marker. This was undoubtedly the right place. The trail down the cliffs ended just ahead. Climbing it would take him to the glider port. He could use his cell to call a cab from there, if necessary, or he could just walk back the way he had come. It wasn't that bad a walk, not really.

  The sun still had a ways to go; maybe a half hour or more remained before it met the sea for the evening. The beach actually was pretty empty. Part of that was surely due to the time of year. Santa Ana or not, it was still December. Beach parties and Christmas carols were not a conventional pairing. A couple of diehards reclined on towels further north, but it was doubtful they had been in the water. The warm wind from the desert did nothing to heat the water. Also, there were none of the fire rings prevalent on other city beaches. With only the perilous cliff descent or long beach hike available for bringing in firewood and supplies, he now understood why the beach was so quiet at this time.

  He had worked up a bit of a sweat and the sun still had a ways to go, so he decided he would do as his dreams "instructed" and go for a swim. A quick dip sounded kind of nice, even at this time of year. What was considered deathly cold water when he was younger felt only a little chilly to him now due to repeated dunkings in the Columbia River while wind surfing. One thing that would be different from the dreams: he had no desire to come back from his swim and have the clothes be missing. He had forgotten how much it cost to look like you didn't spend a lot on fashion. Instead of leaving his clothes out in the middle of the beach, he decided to fold them neatly and place them in a little niche in the rocks, opting to take just his towel closer to the water. He started to strip down, pausing for just a moment before pulling off his shorts. Having never been nude in any kind of public situation other than a locker room, it took him a moment to decide that it didn't matter. If he was crazy enough to fly hundreds of miles and go ocean swimming in winter based on a silly dream, risking a $135 ticket or a bit of embarrassment seemed downright trivial. He tossed the boxers toward the rest of his clothes and turned to walk towards the water, then stopped. He looked back over his shoulder at the neat pile of clothes.

  He knew it was silly. Things didn't happen or not happen because of details like that. Although just as silly as turning your hat inside out at a ball game and thinking it helps your team win, he didn't dare take the chance. Walking back, he picked up his brand new clothes and tossed them into the air. They floated down randomly, scattered on the sands. He would leave no dream detail intentionally unfulfilled. Then, he strode into the water, feeling very daring and much less self-conscious than he would have imagined onlya few days before.

  Ten

  The Burro Trail began easily enough but quickly became more rigorous. A strong storm in back in October had washed away many of the improvements made by a naturist group which frequented the beach. Repairs were ongoing, and the worst of the landslides had been cleared. However, it was still rough going for someone unaccustomed to such terrain. It didn't help matters that each and every step caused a delicious friction between her legs.

  The beach itself was not visible along several stretches of the trail, although the Pacific could still be seen. She watched the sun sinking in the sky, pushing herself to reach the shore before it actually met the water. The timing must be just perfect.

  Distracted by her thoughts, she slipped on some scree and tumbled a few feet. "Focus!" she berated herself, impatiently brushing the dust from her shorts and picking a couple pieces of gravel from her abraded elbow. With renewed concentration, she negotiated the final portion of the descent, trying to ignore the brush of her nipples against the fabric of her shirt. Even through her bra, the feeling sent shivers of anticipation to her core.

  He was there, of course, as she knew he would be, with his back to her as he dried himself. Her arousal was further fueled by the thrill of knowing that her dreams had led her to this exact place at this precise time. She could barely make out his silhouette against the setting sun, yet she felt his heat—his need. It rivaled her own. As blood orange and pulsing as the orb itself and as inexorable as the tide, it drew her to him. Come. COME.

  She sat on the last set of rickety wooden stairs and hastily removed the hiking boots and heavy cotton socks before stepping onto the sand. As she drew near, he sensed her and turned. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He undoubtedly recognized her, and she smiled as she continued her approach. It had never even occurred to her to question whether or not he was experiencing the same dreams. She took that as a given from the very beginning. The cosmos would not send such a onesided message, after all. Belief in her dreams necessitated belief in their reciprocity. It was completely logical to her surreal way of thinking.

  Apparently, he believed the dream had something to tell him— otherwise he'd not even be here—but it was clear that he'd not considered the possibility she would materialize before his eyes. He stood as still as a statue while it sunk in. She watched the expression on his face shift from incredulity to delight to desire as he adjusted to the realization that she was, indeed, a very real woman.

  The moment played in slow motion, but precious little time actually elapsed before his eyes narrowed and a feral grin played on his mouth; tongue darting, like a snake scenting its prey. Yes, lover, she thought. I'm here. She unbuttoned, unzipped while walking—almost running— leaving a trail of garments in her wake. The scent of the sea filled her pores. Cloying. Heady.

  The beach was deserted—as in the dreams—but she doubted the presence of onlookers would've changed a thing. They came together on the sand at the base of the cliff: a wordless union. Hands grasped. Tongues danced. Intoxicated by his touch, she took his cock in both hands as he growled one word against her neck: "YES!"

  His hands grabbed her ass, pulling her tightly against him, as she wrapped one leg around his waist. "Fuck me! Here. NOW!" she urged, guiding him inside. For a breathless moment, as his cock reached her hot depths, they were still. His skin was cool from the chill of the sea and its contrast intensified the sensations. When sun the kissed the horizon, it broke the spell. The magic born in their dreams electrified the air around them, as if the chemical reaction could no longer be contained. They moved together in a rhythm born of the purest passion. His thighs bulged, tensing, as he dipped for each upward thrust. Her foot left the sand, again and again, as he impaled her. Lover!

  Their momentum propelled them backward until she felt the coarse sandstone wall of the cliff against her bare back. It hurt, peripherally, but she was beyond caring about a few scratches. His knees struck the rocks with each dip, and her nails gouged half-moons in his back as she answered his violence with her own. He was stronger than she expected; effortlessly holding her so that she was lifted off the ground.

  They paused in their mutual assaults only long enough to draw in more air, fueling the pure lust of the attack. He slowed, briefly, as the last rays of the sun framed him, and his eyes glowed a vivid blue that matched the sea. Although the two of them never totally stopped moving, the rest of the world did stop. Nothing mattered to her beyond what was reflected in his eyes as they devoured her, in his hands as they claimed her, and in his cock as it filled her.

  The evening shadows blanketed them, and the sky glowed with the memory of the sun, as he again picked up the pace. "Harder," she begged, and he delivered with a primal groan. She felt him swell inside, pulsing. Another thrust—two—three—and she was completely lifted into his arms as they crested together; their mouths meeting in the ultimate hunger.

  He slipped from her, and she tried to stand on shaky legs. With his strong arms supporting her, they grinned at one another, kissed again, and finally s
aid, "Hello."

  About the Authors

  Will Belegon began writing erotica as an exploration of his more primal side. He found the combination of his overactive imagination with his love of poetry and prose to be a good fit for the genre. Throw in his love of moonlit beaches and first kisses, and words began to flow.

  The validation came when other people liked what he wrote. So he wrote more, and found that he enjoyed the attention. When someone suggested he might actually get paid to write, the notion seemed too wild to consider. Yet fortune is said to favor the bold.

  Will has also contributed both stories and poetry to the Coming Together anthology series, the proceeds of which are donated to charitable organizations. San Diego Sunset is Will's fourth published collaboration with author Alessia Brio, and they've many more planned.

  Readers can visit him online at willbelegon.blogspot.com

  Alessia Brio spends most of her time crusading for the disadvantaged, ranting about social injustice, or performing her domestic duties as a work-from-home mom. When she slows down, however, her imagination takes over. After years of painting delicious images in her mind, she finally decided to capture them with words. Much to her delight, they've been well-received.

  Everyone, Alessia believes, possesses an exquisitely vivid and varied imagination when it comes to sex. A few are blessed with the time and the talent and the desire to convert their "mind movies" into words on paper—or on a screen—for others to enjoy. Alessia is thrilled (and more than a little awed) to have the opportunity to share the fruits of her imagination with Phaze readers and hopes it's a very long, very satisfying affair.

  Readers can visit her online at www.alessiabrio.com