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.