I Love This Beach - Sex Stories

I Love This Beach

... blue Polo and a pair of clean tans cargo shorts. It was hidden from the road by a privet and a long driveway. John welcomed us at the door and took the bottle of Merlot. John was dressed nearly identically. He ushered me in. The house was beautiful with a high beamed ceiling and a wall of windows that looked out to a pool and a beautifully landscaped private backyard. Emily came out of the kitchen and gave me a sweet kiss. She, too, was dressed similarly. "We could do an ad for Ralph Lauren!" she said. She ushered us out through the cook's kitchen onto the back deck. Standing there and looking out on their backyard was a trip. Mature trees and flowering shrubs curved around the perimeter. The pool was bordered by large slate tiles leading to a covered cabana at the far end. The deck was big enough to host a good-sized party and it wrapped around the side of the house where it joined a long screened-in porch filled with potted plants. There were three doors that opened onto the deck; one from the kitchen, one from the dining room and one from the master bedroom which adjoined the porch. At the corner of the deck near the bedroom was a large, round hot tub/spa. "This is some beautiful home," I commented. "You must love it." "We really do," said John. "We looked for about five years for the right house to come on the market and when this did, we jumped on it. We've moved out of our Upper East Side apartment after thirty-five years and are living here full-time now." "And we've ...

... never been happier," said Emily, handing me a glass of wine. "Good luck to both of you and welcome to paradise." We toasted. Dinner was excellent and the conversation was warm and friendly. Buddy liked the house and anointed the grounds several times. He especially enjoyed cleaning our plates. We sat at the table for a couple of hours chatting about the East End and polishing off two bottles. We all cleared the table but Emily pushed us back outside with a tray of pot, rolling papers and an old water pipe which John filled with Sauvignon Blanc. John and I were quite buzzed when Emily returned and in short order, shed caught up. "This sure is good pot," I said. "I haven't been able to get any good weed since my friends moved down south. One was a Southampton cop, one was a surfer/bartender and one was a Shinnecock who had a hydroponic growing house on the rez. I miss good weed." "My son, John Junior, gets it for us. In fact, he's coming out with his girlfriend this weekend and I'll ask him to bring extra." "That would be awesome, John. Just tell me how much cash you need. I'd love some good smoke." "I'm so glad we met you, Ray," said Emily. "Perhaps you'll help us get the lay of the land." "It would be my pleasure, Emily." Buddy was spread out on the deck and snoring away. "Speaking for Buddy, it would be his pleasure, too." "He's a very sweet dog," she said, "friendly and good natured. Like his master." I smiled and thanked her. She asked me about my history on the East End ...