by Rosanna Young
Bram stood on the back porch of his beach front bungalow and took in the lovely view.
Point Pleasant Beach was crowded, true, a bit noisy sometimes, but the lush bum barely contained by a bright red bikini was worth it all.
It was Beth, the girl from the bungalow next to his. She'd caught his eye the day he'd arrived. He moaned out loud his disappointment. At 45, he was way too old for such a beautiful young woman.
It had been four years since his divorce, three since he had moved to New York City from London to teach at the school for the United Nations, five since his frustrated member had had the chance to engage in any mutually satisfying activities. It was 1973 and he was spending the summer in an ocean front cottage, and his neighbor, who was at least old enough to be living by herself for the summer was wagging her barely covered bottom to the music. It was The Rolling Stones, one of his favorite groups. Mick Jagger was complaining about a lack of satisfaction… he knew just how he felt!
He moved outside into the screened porch, taking his beer with him. Leaning into the corner of the railing, he watched all the hot young bodies move to the music.
Suddenly she was there, tugging on his hand, trying to encourage him to come and dance with them.
"OH no, no, I don't dance," he said.
"Sure you do, come on Bram," she answered. Her eyes sparkled, and she continued to clap and dance even as she enticed him to join her.
"What the hell," he said to himself. "I can't look like a total idiot, now can I?" Setting his beer bottle on a small table, he joined the rollicking group on the sand. That is, until she tried to get him away from the fringes of the group. There she was, hands in the air, bottom moving to the music, those beautiful eyes looking back at him over her right shoulder. Bram did the only thing he could think of which was to put his hands on her hips, drawing her back until she rested fully against him, wrapping his arms around her naked belly to hold her in place. She was not quite as tall as he, but his erection was nestling between her cheeks. She leaned back against him.
Beth shivered as her hunky neighbor pulled her into his embrace. It had been love, no... cross that out, lust at first sight, for her at least. She had a feeling that either he thought her too young, or himself too old.
"I, aaah, don't particularly want to go out there right this moment," he said softly against her ear.
Be brazen, she thought to herself. If that was what she needed to be to attract him, she could be. The thought still fresh in her mind, Beth, stretched her right hand up and back to touch him while she undulated her back against his front.
"OK," she said, turning to face him. "Why don't we go sit over there," she added, pointing to the double wide Adirondack chair on his screened in back porch. It was close enough to hear the music, but far enough away they would be a little private. Taking his hand she pulled him in the direction she wanted to go.
With a look at the bottle of beer he had left out, she pushed Bram into the chair and said, "I'll be back in a sec."
Bram would have protested her leaving him if it wasn't for the view of her bottom jiggling as she went. Bram was tongue-tied watching her retreat and before he could gather his thoughts she was back with a six-pack of cold beers.
Bram pulled her onto his lap, her left shoulder against his right and she nestled into him. Touching their bottles lightly before they drank, Bram looked down at her, but she was looking down at her hands, holding her bottle of beer. Again he was struck with how young she looked. It didn't go with the seemingly brazen image she tried so hard to paint.
"Before this goes any further," he said slowly, "I need to ask you something. OK?"
"I'm 23," she said. "Is that what you wanted to know?"
He just nodded his head on the way to capturing her mouth in their first kiss.
"It doesn't matter to you that I'm old enough to be..." she stopped him with her fingers gently across his lips before he could utter the words, "your father?"
"No, it doesn't."
Even so, Bram decided that he wasn't going to rush her into anything. Looking to lighten the tension a bit, he took another swallow of the brew she'd brought and said, "This is good beer. I never heard of this one before."
"Yuengling," she said, pronouncing it ying ling. "America's oldest brewery. I spent a summer in Germany when I was 18. My grandfather would have beer for breakfast if Oma let him, so I learned to appreciate a good beer. This is the best domestic beer I've found."
"You don't look like a beer kinda girl, that's all."
"So how do I look, hmmmm? Like a bottle of Yago Sangria or Boone's Farm Apple wine?" she laughed.
"Ok, ok, point made. All I have to say is, it's much better than what I've been drinking."
"Well, thank you kind sir," she teased. Suddenly shy, her voiced turned to a husky whisper and she said, "I just love the way you talk."
She had turned her face up to his as she spoke, and he couldn't resist gathering her up and kissing her senseless before teasing right back, "I hope that's not all you'll love about me."
They spent most of the night where they were, learning about each other in between scorching kisses.
He'd been surprised to find out that her summer vacation was a reward for the past two semesters on the Dean's list. She was studying English and journalism, and was an only child.
He told her about teaching at the school for the United Nations. This year his class was mostly 5 and 6 year olds. What an adventure that was.
They were still sitting there when the sun began to come up over the ocean, a beautiful array of yellow, orange and pinks peeping up over the horizon, slowly growing until it burst upon their morning like a giant flower.
They separated then, each going to their own bed to sleep away the morning, promising to meet for lunch and a walk on the boardwalk.
The next few days were much the same. Some days he cooked breakfast, sometimes she did. They swam in the ocean, walked on the boardwalk, gorged on boardwalk food, got crazy dizzy on rides neither would have gone on without the other, and laughed. They hadn't slept together yet, figuratively or intimately but it was getting harder and harder to keep their hands off each other.
Then one night when they were snuggled together on the old wicker couch on her porch, she brought up what his ex-wife had referred to as the "s" word.
"Bram?" she asked quietly, her faced turned away from him so he couldn't see her embarrassment at her own audacity. "Did you ever spank anybody?" She said it so quietly that he could barely hear her.
"WHAT?" he roared, quietly so as not to wake the neighbors.
When she stiffened and tried to get away from him, he gathered her close, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her.
"As a matter of fact, I have. I was just surprised you asked me, that's all."
"Well, I just heard you... 'Brits?'... liked that kind of thing."
"And you wanted to know because?"
"This is embarrassing. I um... heard my father spank my mother once. She seemed to like it."
"And what about you? What did you think?"
"I wouldn't be embarrassing myself like this, if I wasn't interested," she mumbled so quietly he could barely hear her.
"Soooooo, you want me to spank you, but you want to like it. Have I got that right? Because if I needed to punish you, you wouldn't like it, am I understood?"
A little shocked by the turn in conversation, she also realized that he was saying if she wanted one, she would be open to the other. Beth nodded, hoping she wasn't getting in over her head.
"You know what else we're talking about here, don't you Beth? Do you know how much I want to make love to you?"
"Yes Bram, I want it too." He latched his mouth onto hers as he stood and carried her through the darkened house to her bedroom. A full moon shone through the bedroom window so there was no need for artificial light. The light was dusky in the small room. The moon beam gently crossed the bed and he lay her in its path.
Beth stretched and watched as Bram toed off his loafers and pulled his Point Pleasant Beach sweatshirt over his head. Clad in only his shorts, he climbed onto the bed, scooping her into his arms in the process.
With her leaning into the crook of his left arm, Bram took advantage of the vicinity of her sweet lips and covered her mouth with his. Groaning when she opened to admit his tongue, he accommodated her with pleasure.
His right hand, meanwhile, had slowly found its way under her matching sweatshirt (he had found it sweet when she suggested them) to find her bare breast already puckered and waiting for him. It fit his hand like it was made for him only, the tight bud of her nipple wedged between two fingers so he could pinch it gently.
Beth arched her back at the touch of his hand on her breast, pushing herself into his palm. This was all so new. The pawing of the boys she had dated left her cold, one of the reasons she was quite less experienced than Bram was expecting. She hoped he wasn't disappointed with her.
Beth shuddered in his arms, before she squirmed loose. She smiled at his frustrated expression but he soon realized she was pulling her sweatshirt off over her head. She turned to rub her bared breasts across his chest and latch her mouth onto his.
Before he lost his sanity and forgot to keep himself under control he pulled away from her, giving her a quick kiss before he turned her over his lap, her luscious bottom still covered by the shortest of denim shorts. In her position, the cheeks of her bottom peeked out at him in the moonlight, pale moons waiting for his attention.
He put his left hand in the middle of her back to give a hint of restraint, but she was free to get away from him if she wished. He touched her lightly between her legs, just letting the tip of his finger drag over her most sensitive area. He loved the way she sucked in her breath at his caress.
"Hold still now, love. This is gonna sting a bit."
STING!!! What does he mean, sting!
He raised her bottom with his knee as he connected his hand sharply on the soft skin that peeked out from under the fringe of denim that barely covered her bottom. Six handprints pinked skin that had been formerly pale, having been covered by what little there was of her bikini and was not tanned like most of her beautiful body. It made a perfect target.
Ooooooh! It does sting she thought, but it was a different sting. It was like a bee sting, a sharp hard pain that quickly turned to a low heat, a heat that started to burn when he repeated the sharp spanks.
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