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by Sal De Klerk, “The Salacious Scribe”.

©2020 All Rights Reserved.

Final Revision August 2020

Authors Note:

I got the idea for this short story as I lay in bed with insomnia. I started writing it about 4 am and finished about sunrise, on my phone. I hope you like it. I decided to enter it in the Summer Lovin’ 2020 Contest.


This story contains adult content including public sex and more. If this is not your kind of smut, please find another story.


I glanced at the time on my phone. August 16th, 10:06 pm. It was two weeks, three days, nine hours, and six minutes after our seventh anniversary. Not that I was counting the seconds. Minutes, yes! Seconds, no.

My wife and I had fallen into a rut. All we talked about was money, what to eat for dinner, what to watch on TV and our honey-do lists. After seven years we had grown tired and bored with each other and our relationship. I had a greater emotional connection to my college roommate than I did to my wife.

Our marriage reminded me of the time when I came to hate my favorite song. One summer when I was in middle school, my mom sent me to a Catholic summer camp. The camp ran two sessions. The first was in July, the other in August. On the second day of the July session, someone stole the camp director’s copy of Reville. For the rest of the session, we woke up to Jump by Van Halen. It is a great song, but after hearing it for twenty-eight days straight at 6:30 in the morning it got worn out. Even today, I taste runny pancakes, burnt bacon, and stale toast when I hear it.

So I was in bed, wide awake, feeling a tad horny. My wife had been asleep for over an hour already. She only worked 15-20 hours a week and was asleep by 8 pm every night. I was reading some erotica and planned to rub one out, while she slept. I found myself intrigued by a well-written story by an amazing author. It was about a husband in a bad marriage who finds love in all the wrong places. While I read this story, I noticed a banner ad for Ashley Madison flash on the screen.

I don’t know if it was the seven-year itch, boredom, or curiosity that made me tap the link. Whatever the reason I tapped Ashley. I set up a free profile, and went through ads for ‘Hot Horny Housewives In Your Area’. I was only looking for shits and giggles, or so I told myself. Then I found a personal ad that caught my eye. There wasn’t a picture, but I felt like whoever wrote it was my soulmate.

Married Female 27 nice body, pretty face, brunette.


Married Male 25-45 at least 5’6″. Height/weight proportionate. Intelligent, with a steady income. D&D FREE! If you meet the above criteria and are looking for adventure I want to hear from you.


I like fruity cocktails, long walks on wet nights, Escort bayan and the most romantic place in the world is the beach at night. If you like the same things send me a message. We can plan our escape from humdrum lives. No new-age types or hipsters.

I read the ad several times fighting the inevitable. I didn’t bother to even glance down at my sleeping wife. I felt a momentary twinge of guilt, but our lives had grown dull and boring. I needed something new and exciting.

So I paid for a trial membership and composed a direct message to send to this married stranger. I’m not a wordsmith by any stretch of the imagination, (but you already know that. You’re reading this story). But after many drafts, rewrites, edits, do-overs, and a few polishes, I felt that it was better than average.

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Lovely Lady,

I hope this finds you well. I read your ad, several times. I am gratified that I meet your listed desires for a companion. I am a little taller than average, but I do carry more poundage than I would like. I have a slight paunch (I was going to use ‘beer belly’, but wanted to show that I have half a brain ;). It’s big enough to rest a head-on and nap, but not so large it’s a turn-off. I’m in my late 20’s and feel like my marriage has lasted far too long. I’m in desperate need of a change! I would love to go on an adventure with you.

I too love sweet fruity cocktails with little umbrellas. They make a nice companion to a night out with friends. Afterward, there’s nothing better than a stroll in a warm summer storm. When it comes to my lifestyle, I’m very much a Ron Swanson type. Meat and potatoes washed down with a nice sparkling white. I don’t like that snooty French stuff. To me, downward dog is from the Kama Sutra. Flannel is for lumberjacks and snowy nights in front of a fireplace.

I plan to eat lunch at O’Malleys Sports pub by Publix on Tuscawilla Road every day this week. I’ll be there at noon so we can talk in person instead of messaging back and forth. Let’s meet soon so we can discuss the possible adventures we can share. I look forward to meeting you. Look for the guy with the fruity cocktail on his table.

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I sat in the almost empty Irish bar. There was a Pina Colada in front of me. It was a physical symbol of my hope that she would show up, but I had my doubts. I mean who in 2020 would show up to a bar to meet a total stranger after a single private message. I sat there staring at some baseball game, not seeing the action. All I could think about was meeting my lady love.

The small crowd grew silent. I turned to look and saw her walk in. I knew it was her by the way she dressed. She looked like a spy from some late-night B movie. A red and black silk scarf covered her head and tied under her chin, hiding her hair and jawline. Huge sunglasses Bayan Escort covered the rest of her face. An overcoat that was two or three sizes too large for her draped down her body.

She began to unwrap the scarf, as she scanned the pub. Her eyes locked on the sweet white concoction that sat untouched on my table. A cute lopsided smile appeared on her face. I knew that smile, and when she pulled the scarf off and I saw the shape of her face, I knew she was my lady love.

“Aw, it’s you,” she murmured as she came over and sat down. We both let out a nervous laugh unsure how to react at this revelation. There was an uncomfortable silence as we sat there to consider what this meant for us. I let my mind wander as I toyed with my drink.

The silence became oppressive. I said the first thing I could think of, “I didn’t know that you liked fruity cocktails. I never saw you drink one.”

“Why didn’t you ever take me for a stroll in a spring shower, or on a vacation to the shore?” She said to counter my words.

“You never brought home any sparkling wines for us to drink,” I replied shrugging.

We were starting to argue, but it was the first real open and honest conversation we’d had in years. Our argument turned into a painful yet wonderful heart to heart talk. We sat in that sports bar well into the night sharing our hopes and dreams and hurts and everything. I learned more about her in those few hours than I had in the last seven years.

This wasn’t a miracle. It didn’t cure our marriage overnight, but things improved. We took our first vacation in three years. Two weeks at the Cape, Just the Two of Us. We only packed a few swimsuits and a lot of booze. When we arrived at the hotel and got into our room, we looked out the window. The beach was perfect! Wide, and long with pale brown sand, and large dunes.

Our first night there we went for a long walk on the beach. It was a warm Florida August night. The cool sea breeze kept the temperature a hair below sweltering. We walked hand in hand for several miles without a word along the shore. Our new emotional connection growing stronger with each step we took. We passed a handful of people as we traveled south, away from the hotel. On our return trip, we didn’t see anyone on the beach. We stopped under a pier and kissed. It was the first real kiss we shared in years. Our tongues explored the long-forgotten terrain of each other’s mouths. Our bodies pressed together as the surf crashed around our ankles. We let ourselves sink to the wet sand while our hands explored each other.

As the warm waves washed over us, we shed our clothes. She was ripe and ready. I flicked her nipple with my tongue and caressed her between her legs. Teasing her, tantalizing her. Then as a large wave washed over us, I sank myself into her. Her hips rocked up and she gasped in pleasure Escort as I matched the rhythm of the waves. For the first time since our second anniversary, we made love. Sweet, slow, passionate, romantic love. Our fingers intertwined in the surf our hips rolled with the waves. The seawater on her breasts glistened in the pale moonlight. Her lips parted enough so she could whimper and gasp as my hard shaft plunged into her depths.

Her arms encircled my neck and she pulled my mouth to hers and we kissed. It was a loving soulful kiss. The kind of kiss you see at the end of a romantic comedy when the couple finally gets together. As I kissed her salty lips, her long legs wrapped around me. She used her legs to pull me into her and I felt her torso undulate. I felt fluid surge around my cock. I withdrew from her one final time and drove myself home. When I felt my balls collide with her flesh, my cock throbbed and I filled her with my personal salty liquid. She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and cried out in pleasure as I filled her with my seed.

After we finished making love, we lay in the surf letting the warm salty water wash over our nude bodies. Somehow we had shifted positions and I was on my back, she was on top of me, her head on my chest. My hands roamed over her body. I fell in love with her all over again.

After we spent time relaxing and reconnecting we felt we had pushed our luck long enough. We swam into the sea and rinsed as much of the sand from our bodies as we could. After dressing, I put my arm around my lady love. As we walked back to our hotel, we saw a bar off in the distance. We walked over and sat on the patio. The night air was intoxicating, but not as intoxicating as the Pina Coladas we ordered. After three rounds we left the bar and continued our journey back to the hotel. As the Tan building came into view, a warm rain started to fall. I grabbed my lady love and we started to dance.


End Note:

The inspiration for this story is Rupert Holm’s song Escape (The Pina Colada Song). When I researched the song, I learned Mr. Holms applied for a job from the help wanted section of a newspaper. His wife had placed the ad. Mr. Holms wondered what would happen if it had been a personal ad instead.

The original lyrics were Humphrey Bogart, not Pina Colada. He realized he had made several references to Mr. Bogart and films in general in his previous album. He decided he needed to change the lyrics. He thought about what people drink to escape. The first tropical drink he thought of that fit the song was Pina Colada. Mr. Holms in a recent interview stated he’s never had a Pina Colada. And that my friends is…The rest of the story.

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Please let me know if you liked this story. I do not make money from writing. My sole reward is your comments, votes, likes, follows, shares, and emails. Hearing from readers is what encourages me to keep writing. I am a firm believer that feedback is a gift, and I like gifts.

Sal De Klerk, “The Salacious Scribe”.

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