Thirty-Five Years
Brings Déjà vu to Reality
By H.G. Hunt
Chapter 8
That Saturday in July saw a sticky heat wave hanging lazily
over the middle of the country and the Great Lakes. With one
of those lakes less than an hour’s drive away, many people
would be heading for the beaches. Brent and Jean had
occasionally visited a portion of a dune-clad shoreline. Not
many people knew about the access point, even though it was
in a public area. By 11:30 a.m. they were trudging along the
path through the wooded terrain before coming to the beach;
mile upon mile of sandy beach stretched north and south.
They turned and headed north about 300 yards from where the
trail’s terminus hit the beach. Here the grass-covered dunes
had been sculpted by the wind to create a little cirque that
provided a horseshoe-shaped barrier from lines of sight to
both north and south, up and down the beach. The surf zone
was only about 25 yards to their west and one could see for
a mile or more in either direction. Jean had christened the
spot where they unfurled their blankets “The Cove” a few
years ago, a name that conveyed its peacefulness as well as
a hint at the seclusion it offered. The name was apt, even
though it was of sand, not water.
Brent approved of the location, especially since there were
no other people within eyesight up and down the beach. The
privacy was something he considered to his advantage, since
it would be helpful in “convincing” Jean later that a lusty
interlude would be fun. He couldn’t have known how little
convincing he would need to provide. They laid out their
blankets and arranged themselves to capture the sun. Jean
had on a two-piece suit, pale blue and snug to her
well-proportioned frame. Her heavy C-cup breasts bulged
around the edges of the just-a-little-too-tight top, causing
Brent to smile as he crafted his own spot on the blanket
next to his wife of 30 years.
Brent and Jean took a dip in the water, and feeling
refreshed after their walk had warmed them up, they lay down
on their blankets. Jean, anticipating some lusty fireworks
found herself quite antsy, often rising up on her elbows to
peek over the low-rising dune as she peered southward along
the beach. Boats of all sorts plied the waters off shore and
both took turns gazing through their binoculars at the
passing pleasure and commercial crafts. But Jean also kept
focusing those lenses south, along the beach, towards the
point where the path came out on the beach. Brent found it
odd that Jean was spending so much time with the binoculars,
since it was more common for him to do the most gazing. He
questioned Jean about it, but all he got for an answer was a
small shrug and a little grunt of “Oh, I don’t know, just
curious, I guess.”
But curious wasn’t a strong enough word for the feelings
that consumed Jean. It was far more. She was anxious,
aching, energized, worried, threatened, hopeful, and lusty
as hell, and longing for events to unfold. Her anticipation
was hard to stifle. She had not given Brent any verbal clues
that there were “plans” for the afternoon. She knew that
Brent would approve, if he had known. But she really liked
surprises and she thought this one would be hard to top.
Many times he had shared his excitement over female versus
female confrontations. Many times he had heard about Jean’s
one-time-only interlude back in her college days, long
before they had met. Oh, how he wished he had been able to
witness that dorm room event. Their role-playing and
fantasies had long provided a significant spark in their
sexual relationship, and mention of “Lisa” would always
arouse Jean to heights of ecstasy. Brent sometimes wondered
if Jean may have been holding something back. He was sure
that Jean was visualizing fucking Lisa during their
lovemaking. He didn’t mind, it excited him too! But this day
he wasn’t aware of any of that. He was hoping for a little
“hope-we-don’t-get-caught” beach-fuck action later on, but
that was all. He took a posed photo of the two of them,
using their tripod for a timed-shutter exposure. They were a
very handsome mature couple; Brent with his graying brown
hair and Jean in her blonde-streaked light brown hair, now
drying in the sun.
Brent had the binoculars for a moment and as he gazed
southward he spied a lone woman trudging across the hot sand
from the path that led back to the parking area. He kept the
binoculars glued to the woman far down the beach. She turned
north, and carrying her own bag, moved along the firm sand
at the water’s edge towards them. A broad hat covered her
head, so he couldn’t get a good look at her face, especially
from so far away, but he could recognize the pleasing shape
of an alluring woman at nearly 200 yards. Jean, perceiving
the long gaze, asked Brent what he was looking at. “A woman
is coming up the beach,” was all he mustered before Jean
grabbed the binoculars to have a look of her own. While
Brent had always felt the urge to visually appreciate pretty
women, he actually had mixed feelings about the woman
striding towards them. If she came anywhere close, it might
mean that his “plans” for Jean might be detoured or put on
hold. He didn’t believe that Jean would be willing to have
sex if there was any chance of getting caught by someone
else. So he had been a little disappointed by the woman’s
approach; that is until Jean turned to him, laying down the
binoculars, and said, “This is going to be a VERY good day.
I think you’ll really enjoy THIS!”
He quickly responded, “What are you talking about?”
She pushed him down on the blanket and whispered in his ear
(even though no one could have heard anyway) “YOU are a
spectator and cameraman. That is ALL. Don’t interfere in any
way. Got it?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Brent was baffled for
sure, but intrigued by the insistence in Jean’s voice.
“Don’t worry about it. I will take care of myself. And
remember, keep your mouth shut! When it is time to take
pictures, snap all you want. But most of all; be quiet and
let the chips fall where they may. Got it?”
A slow grin began to appear on Brent’s face. “Of course,
lover; I get it,” even if he didn’t get much.
It took about four more minutes before Lisa arrived in front
of their little “cove” hideaway, partially screened from
views up and down the beach. She had followed Jean’s
directions and found this secluded beach easily. Knowing she
was being watched made the hike up the beach beyond
exciting. She had seen Jean’s car at the forest turn-off, so
she knew they were already there, as per the plan. It was
hard for her to not run helter-skelter towards the monument
rock that had been her landmark to turn and look into the
dunes, aching to find her nemesis waiting. She had no doubt
that she would find Jean there. She was not disappointed.
But she hadn’t known for sure that Brent would be there,
even though she suspected that there might be some surprise.
TO BE CONTINUED