Line on the beach

It was once at a tantra festival in the wilderness, where we were living in tents under the trees. Across the river, on a small island, I noticed a girl alone on the beach. Something was drawing me to her. I swam quietly, the water cool on my skin. When she finally noticed me, she was scared—shy and unsure—because we were both completely naked in the open air. I spoke softly, carefully so as not to scare her. But I could sense her unease. I asked her more than once if my presence bothered her, and when she confirmed it, I respected her space and left. But another story was playing out in my head—a fantasy of what might have happened if I had stayed. In this vision, I told her I was no threat. I suggested we draw a line in the sand, dividing her half of the beach from mine. I promised never to cross her, no matter what. She agreed, smiling at the strange agreement. And then, slowly, she began to play. She swayed her hips, moving as if she were dancing, letting her body speak. Her hands roamed over my skin, teasing, inviting. She called me with her eyes, her gestures, the rhythm of her movements. On the other side of the line, I was burning with desire—like a caged animal, restless and naked. Every impulse of longing was written on my body, impossible to hide, because we were naked, and nothing could be hidden. She was so carried away that she even started touching herself, and I could see how much pleasure she felt, how it grew stronger and stronger. And as she approached ecstasy, I couldn’t help myself either—I started touching myself intensely, and in a matter of seconds a huge wave of pleasure swept over us both.