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search tools: STROKEJOB also lay in the sand in a stupor. There was no way I could sort through the welter of emotions and raw sensations that flooded my brain. I noticed idly that my own hardon had been leaking a steady stream of precome into my trunks. There was a prominent wet stain standing out in the crotch.
It was hard to tear my eyes from this incredible scene, but I did not want Cindy to discover that I had been spying on her. Reluctantly, I crawled away from my vantage point and made my way back to the beach. I dove into the surf to hide the stain in my swimming trunks, and to shock me out of my confusion. After a few minutes in the cold water, I went back to the blanket. I had no plan or any idea of what it all meant, but the ocean had calmed me. Fifteen minutes later, Cindy came walking along the beach alone. She was wet from a recent dip in the water, undoubtedly, like mine, to hide the evidence. I was lying on the blanket, right where they had left me, apparently oblivious to her impassioned interlude.