A Sex-on-the-Beach Encounter with the Cosmos and a Killer

Towards the end of high school, my girlfriend and I had honed our skills at coupling and were humping so habitually that we’d begun to need novel places to do it, partly to be adventurous but mostly to avoid being stumbled upon by our parents.

She was more interested in the novelty part and had developed a bit of a bucket list, egged on by an oversexed female friend who had no doubt planted the seed for some of the scenarios on the list.

Sex in a public park in broad daylight was one of them. Sex on the beach, of course, was another.

So when I invited my girlfriend to join me as I visited my father on the small island where he lived in the Caribbean, her plans entailed more than just travel.

Pretty soon after our arrival she began to talk about the sex on the beach thing.

I was moderately interested in the idea, mostly for the wild life story that could result. I was not at all aroused by the what-if-we-get-caught thrill that seems to motivate many people who pursue sex in public. For that reason I suggested that we plan the encounter for after dark and on a secluded stretch of waterfront.

I knew that there were some suitable locations near to the Governor’s Residence towards the northern end of the island’s massive seven-mile-long beach, but I’d also read in the newspaper during our visit that a shocking attack on an older female tourist had taken place along that same stretch. The attacker had wielded a machete.

Although crime was rare on the island, the attack was on my mind just a little on the appointed evening as my girlfriend and I drove to the chosen spot in my father’s ancient and boat-like Mercedes Benz.

We walked from the gravel road toward the water, speaking in conspiratorial tones, and descended into a world fully devoid of light. In those years, most side streets on on the island were not lit in the evening. And, as it happened, the sky was fully overcast, removing every trace of illumination from stars or moon. The roar of the waves, meanwhile, was very audibly present and had an intense droning effect, but visibility was almost zero.

We hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight.

As we made our way through thin foliage onto the cool sand, I was slightly discomfited by these sensory extremes, but I knew that a deal had been struck and there’d be no turning back.

The beach was incredibly wide. We chose a spot and threw down our blanket near a tree maybe 75 metres from the water’s edge. I knew the area fairly well but the night was so dark that I had little sense of how close were we to the Governor’s Residence or to anything else for that matter.

It was spooky, to be frank, but not nearly enough to hinder our young libidos. Although we were relatively new to sex, the girlfriend and I had recently discovered the sensory benefits of sex with the lights out, how the feel of the lover’s body could become so much more present in the brain without visual distractions. For me, it was as if envisioning the shape of her based solely on touch could be just as pleasurable as seeing her in the flesh.

Yet, in the moment, I wasn’t thinking about this. I was distracted by other things: the utter blindness and huge sound of the crashing waves and the resulting sense of vulnerability. I also felt the social pressure compelling me to cooperate with the bucket list objective.

The intent was sex on the beach, not a day at the beach, so once we’d plopped down there was really nothing to do except begin, which was fine by me. The sooner we could conclude matters and exit the scene, the better, I thought.

There was very little discussion, and only a minimum of foreplay. As lovers, we were very much in tune. To ensure that she climaxed first, our routine was that once we’d sufficiently lubed the engines she would almost immediately mount me.

So there, in a place as black as a starless cosmos, she did just that.

The sex, although slightly rushed, was aggressive, exciting, and good. Our youthful bodies almost always performed in those days, even if our minds were slightly elsewhere.

Lying supine, I could faintly see her ash-coloured outline above me contorting against a jet black void that stretched in all directions. She was into it, quickly arriving in a state of abandon that almost excluded me. Eye contact was impossible and speech seemed out of place; any kind of connection would have to come by other means.

Pinned to the blanket under my writhing lover, I looked left and right in irrational attempts to see if anyone might be approaching or if nearby lights were visible

I saw nothing.

I heard nothing, save for the waves.

In the months prior to our trip, we’d worked together as lovers to increase her comfort level with being vocal, especially during climax. In fact, on occasions when I was certain that no one was within earshot, I’d passionately encouraged her to scream during her orgasm — and she had begun to enthusiastically oblige.

There on that public beach, I wondered if full-throated cries would be the best choice, however.

Things were moving quickly and I sensed that it wouldn’t take her long. She had become expert at getting herself off while astride me. As she approached climax, I was torn between wanting her to have a great experience and wanting her to remain vocally discreet.

She began to gasp and I reached up to cover her mouth, not to silence her but to signal my concern about being heard. This had no effect. She was determined to cross off this bucket list item with full vigour. Could I blame her?

As if to prove the point, she arched, threw her head back, and let out a massive cry as she came. My hand remained on her mouth throughout, but only loosely. I knew there was nothing I could do to muzzle her.

I also knew, in the immediate aftermath of her orgasm, that the job was not finished until I’d come as well.

After she’d had a few of moments rest, we began anew, without speaking or repositioning.

We had learned how to move against one another so that I would come while she straddled me, but it required a lot of friction and thrusting. Essentially I needed to slam into her from below.

As my orgasm approached, I could tell that it would be an uncomfortable one. From the beginning of the encounter, she had grinded down on me with such force that the tip of my penis had become inflamed. Experience told me that whenever this happened, ejaculation would be an extreme mix of blinding pleasure and burning pain.

I tried to position her to minimize the anticipated discomfort, but this was of little use. Once again she’d become a woman possessed. I could have said something, perhaps, but the sensory overload ruled that out. It was my orgasm, yes, but this was still her moment and it felt inappropriate for me to break what felt like a mystical silence between us.

And so, a short time later when I came, my own garbled cries shot out of me like a double-edged sword, equal parts ecstasy and agony.

And just like that, it was over. We were two heaving bodies now, spent and heavy. I felt relief as much as release.

Her focus on the sex had been total and she’d exhausted herself, collapsing on top of me and still speaking not a word. Seemingly within moments she was fast asleep.

The night was cool, so I tried to pull some of the blanket over top of us but I could hardly move — at least not without awaking her, and I didn’t want to break the spell, to ruin the narrative.

Besides, at last, now with mission accomplished, I was suddenly in no hurry to depart. In our calm silence, I drifted into post-coital reverie, no longer worried about being heard or caught in the act by random strangers.

Out of mere curiosity, I craned my neck, strained my eyes … and saw nothing.

The night, if it were possible, had somehow become even blacker.

The eyes play tricks in the dark because the mind’s eye holds sway. I thought I could discern vague shapes here and there, but could I?

To test, I raised my left hand to a position I assumed would be directly in front of my face and saw only blackness.

I shook the hand to see if I could pick out the movement.

I saw no movement.

That’s when, for a moment, I became anxious. Pinned and blind, I felt a minor swell of claustrophobia.

Beneath that,  I sensed something of a deeper existential crisis. Oddly, it calmed the claustrophobia.

If I could not move and I could not see and I could not speak, did I exist?

The sleeping girlfriend who had become a dead weight upon me had left me utterly alone.

I shifted ever so slightly to improve my breathing and this relaxed me a little.

As the anxiety eased, I recognized the humour in the situation and smiled a little.

It could not be denied that my immobile predicament was somewhat comical.

As I thought about this, I allowed my mind to drift.

Contemplating the perfect blackness, I imagined that I was gazing not into an abyss, but into the gaping cosmos itself. I felt the moving night air and heard the crashing waves — both seemed eternal, infinite forces.

Perhaps it was because I had just expelled my seed that I felt at one with the universe—or something.

Had I lost all sense of depth, place, and even time so that my usual conception of self was temporarily voided?

Unsure of this, I floated.

My pulse pounded against the girlfriend’s weight but it seemed like something more fundamental than arteries or veins.

For a while longer, I drifted, then my thinking mind began to reassert itself. Languidly I turned my head to the right to gaze down toward the water.

And after seeing virtually nothing for so long, at last I saw something.

I could make out a hazy grey glow coming off the water, sharply demarcated where it met the land. A miniscule amount of light was reflecting off the Caribbean Sea to reveal a waterline that stretched far to my right until it disappeared into black.

Still dazed, I gazed upon this newfound vista without much thought.

But then I saw something else.

It was a dubious speck at first, barely discernible or believable, at the extreme right of my field of vision, where the waterline slanted away into nothing.

The speck seemed that it might be moving, almost imperceptibly, but I dismissed it as an optical glitch or a quantum particle or the result of a flaw inside the curvature of my iris.

Only, yes, it … it grew bigger.

Slowly. So slowly that it hurt my eyes to keep it in focus for confirmation. I looked away and back and still half-expected the speck to be gone.

But there the speck remained. Now I knew that it must be real. Indeed, it moved faster as it morphed from its initial speck form into a thin and perpendicular shape.

With a mild start, I realized that perhaps 300 metres away from where my sleeping girlfriend lay atop me, a person was walking along the beach.

With this knowledge, my cosmic moment faded fully into memory.

I became an individual again, with another individual lodging me in place, and I perceived that at least a third individual now existed in the universe.

Initially, I was glad to have an advancing figure to observe from what I knew would always be a safe distance. I was wide awake but not yet ready to move; I needed something to keep my mind in the here and now.

The featureless and hazily outlined stick against the dark gray of the water moved, I could now see, with a steady and mathematical precision. The pace was not of a stroll; if was of movement with a purpose.

Which is why I was not entirely surprised by what happened next.

Without warning — without slowing or accelerating or offering any other signal — the figure all at once altered its course along an entirely new vector pointing directly towards where my girlfriend and I lay.

Although intrigued by this, I was not alarmed, for surely this newly chosen path could be nothing other than a random occurrence, I reasoned.

I felt completely safe in the inky black envelop that contained my girlfriend and I because surely we were utterly invisible, no?

Even as the figure advanced in an unwavering line, I could not imagine any explanation for it, save for pure chance.

Now some 150 metres away, the figure had taken on a more discernible shape. It was definitely the figure of a man.

For the first time, I became somewhat alarmed. If the man continued on his altered path, he might eventually stumble over us — something that would certainly be embarrassing for all concerned and more than a little shocking for my sleeping girlfriend.

He was perhaps 50 metres away now and closing. My concern grew and I began to consider possible courses of action. Still, there remained ample time for the man to change course and I remained optimistic that he would.

And yet there was no change of course.

I struggled to understand this turn of events. Was the universe now playing a cruel trick on me for my having dared to think that I could perceive its enormity?

Regardless, the man advanced.

At 25 metres, my throat began to tighten.

I knew that crying out at him in alarm would terrify my oblivious girlfriend.

This I wanted to avoid.

I also wanted to avoid having the man trod over the top of us.

Or attack us … ?

Thoughts swirled amid gathering panic. I was both astonished at what I was seeing and paralyzed with indecision.

And now all was accelerating — my mind had gone hyperspace — and I envisioned having to violently shove my girlfriend from where she lay so that I could spring up and confront the intruder.

This, too, I wanted to avoid, but the moment was upon me and my muscles coiled.

Now the man was perhaps 15 metres away and maintaining pace.

The only choice was becoming clear: I’d have to transform from pinned, spent lover into fierce protector.

I felt intense anger toward the man for his seeming carelessness, his nonchalant manner of approach, but still I waited, feeling that I had yet the briefest of moments to spare, my brain alight with pure sensation now, just as before.

And then in the blink of an eye, the universe intervened.

At a distance of some 10 metres, the man suddenly stopped, paused for less than a second, recognized that the puzzling dark mound he’d observed from those 300 metres away was in fact the piled up bodies of two human lovers.

Then he angled sharply away and hurriedly disappeared into the dark.