Amy pulls him atop her, so that is wet skin is plastered to hers. She can feel his cock against her groin and purposly grinds up against it. He growls at her warmth, seperated from him by a few flimpsy peices of cloth. ''Want you now.'' He whispers but she groans.
''Not on the sand!''
''What will you have me do Amy! I'm dying here.'' True enough his erection is strained. His breath is short. His face is red. She leans up and kisses him, not helping the situation at all as her tounge draws lines on the roof of his mouth. He draggs his clothed cock up her folds, chuckling breathlessly when she groans and wrapps her legs around his hips, kepping him held against her.
''F-fuck...'' She manages through clenched teeth. He bites her neck in a way that makes her even wetter than she is. Her stomach flipps with arousle and she keens sharply in his ear.
''Still worried about the sand?'' He asks mischeviously, nipping at her collar bone. She moans a 'yes' and though he's thouroghly unconvinced he moves away from her and fishes in the pocket of his dicarded tweed jacket. She groans when he moves away from her completly, she hears him rummaging through a bag and then the high pitched sound of the sonic before he appears over her with a grin.
''Your palace awaits, my dear.'' He gestures to the small beach tent he's pitched beside their unbrellar. She grins.
Inside the tent there's a soft matteres and a full set of pillows and bankets. He swips them aside, lowering her down and plastering his body once again to hers. He leaves the tent door open, alowing the soft sun of dusk fall on his backside as he grins his hips into Amy's. Words are lost to her, with his lips and teeth working her neck and his calloused thumb rubbing circles on her clit. She's so wet and turned on that she can do nothing but gasp and moan wantonly.
When he's does teasing, working her to an inch of sanity, he slipps her bather bottoms off and kicks out of his own. She watches his as he enteres her, hard as steel and hot as lava. They both moan. His tip presses against the top of her pelvis as he rests within her. He thrusts slow and deep, propped on his forearms with his hands stroking her flushed face.
They kiss, and later she'll say he kissed her, becuase the strokes of his tounge are times with his hips and his eyes are closed before their lips meet. It's dark by the time Amy comes, whithering in his arms as his lips trail soft kisses over her jaw. He follows soon after, smiling around a moan of her name and chuckling lazily as he falls beside her, gathering her in his arms.
With a small amount of coaxing Amy releases him, allowing him to zip the tent up and arrange the pillows and covers. When he's done he scoops her up again and cuddles into her warmth. They don't sleep, too content in one another's arms to do anything but gaze at eachother.
