The beach was my escape that afternoon, the sun warming my skin through the light fabric of my summer dress, the breeze teasing the hem and sending little shivers up my thighs. I'd chosen this colourful sundress on purpose—vibrant florals that hugged my curves just right, the neckline dipping low enough to hint at the fullness of my breasts, the skirt short enough to flirt with the air. At 52, I knew my body was a weapon: soft hips that swayed, heavy tits that strained against the thin material, and between my legs, a hunger that hadn't been properly satisfied in years. I wasn't here for a stroll; I was here to feel alive, to chase that spark of danger in broad daylight.

I spotted him on the bench first—alone, eyes on the view, but I could sense his restlessness. He looked like he needed no invitation , and I was in the mood to give one. I approached slowly, my sandals shuffling softly on the sandy path, stopping just in front of him. No words; words would ruin the thrill. I turned my body slightly, letting the breeze lift my dress a fraction, exposing the smoothness of my thighs. His gaze flicked to me, then away, then back—hooked. I smiled, warm and inviting, standing close enough that he could smell my perfume, feel the heat radiating from my skin.
My heart raced as I waited, facing forward now, pretending to admire the ocean view. Why him? Because he looked safe yet tempted, because the area was quiet, and because my pussy was already aching, bare under the dress—no panties to get in the way, just slick folds begging for touch. The breeze played again, fluttering the fabric higher, and I felt his eyes on me, devouring the curve of my ass, the shadow between my legs. Come on, I thought, make your move.

Then it came—his palm, tentative at first, pressing gently against the back of my calf. Warm, rougher than I expected. I didn't flinch; I stood still, letting him test the waters. His fingers traced up, slow and exploratory, over the swell of my knee, the soft inner thigh. Heat pooled in my core, my clit swelling as anticipation built. Higher... yes, there, the edge of my mound brushing his knuckles. I was soaked already, my juices coating my lips, dripping slightly down my thigh. He froze for a heartbeat, then caressed bolder, his hand cupping the heat of my cunt through the thin barrier of air.
I parted my legs just a whisper, inviting him in without a sound. His fingers explored, sliding along my slit, parting the wet folds to find my entrance. God, the relief when he pushed two inside—thick and insistent, stretching my walls as he pumped slowly. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, facing the park like nothing was happening, but my hips rocked subtly against his hand. He found my clit with his thumb, rubbing in firm circles that made my knees weaken, my nipples harden into peaks against the dress.

'Mmm,' I hummed softly, the only sound I allowed, as pleasure coiled tight in my belly. He worked me harder, fingers curling to hit that spot deep inside, his palm grinding against my mound. The breeze cooled the wetness seeping out, but his touch kept me burning. Once he slipped a finger in my arse as well, it was over. Climax hit like a wave—my thighs clamped around his hand, trapping him as my pussy spasmed, gushing over his fingers in hot pulses. I gripped him tight, riding it out silently, stars bursting behind my eyes.
When it faded, I released him, feeling his hand trail up over the round globes of my ass, squeezing the flesh before pulling away. I turned then, and watched as he licked my juices off his fingers.

I should have given him one last smile—grateful, wicked—and walked off, my dress settling back into place, thighs slick and trembling.
But, he had awakened something, so as I stood facing him, I didn’t move, silently willing him to explore more. The telepathy worked - in an instant he had lifted my dress for a good long look, and his fingers quickly found their way to my moist, dripping cunt again. This time, I pulled the top of my dress to the side, exposing my breast and leaning into him encouraging him to take my full breast into his mouth whilst he was working my pussy.
His tongue playing with my nipple was like turning a tap on, and my pussy was gushing. So wet. So hot. Thoroughly enjoying the attention, and the thrill of the moment. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out as his strong fingers bought me to yet another orgasm.
Slowly I composed myself, readjusted my clothing and turned to walk away.

As I melted into the path, I heard nothing behind me, but I knew he'd savour it, just as I'd savour the ache, the secret thrill. Who knew what tomorrow's breeze might bring?