The Beach Chair

Courtesy of Cammies on the floor

Finally she had a day off. For the last two months she had been making overtime, working about 80 hours every week. Her nights were short, her working days long and in the weekends her dining room table and couches were covered with printouts of spreadsheets, tax papers and other papers she needed to the annual tax returns of the company she worked for. Lorraine hated this time of year just as much as she loved it. She hated it because of the long days and being sleep deprived, but she loved it because she always took a week off from work once everything was done.

This year was no different. Friday was the first day in almost two months that she left the office at 5pm, the official time she stopped working every day. The only thing that encouraged her to put on foot in front of the other to go home was knowing that she would be off from work for an entire week. A week of no work. Lorraine made herself a sandwich and a cup of tea when she got home, switched on the television set and sat down on the couch. She woke up close to 4am the next morning, dragged herself to bed and didn’t bother to take her working clothes off when she crawled under the covers.

Twelve hours later she opened her eyes again. Lorraine was starving. She hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. The television set was still playing and on the side table were her half-eaten sandwich and full cup of tea of the night before. She brought that to the kitchen, scraped the sandwich into the bin and emptied the cup in the sink. She rinsed the cup, filled the kettle and got busy making herself some breakfast. Lorraine didn’t care that it was almost time for dinner. She wanted breakfast. She sat down at the dining room table that overlooked the street and the park on the other side, eating her bacon and eggs on bread and drinking her hot tea. When she was done she brought everything back to the kitchen, made another cup of tea and brought that too the bedroom with her. A shower followed and once she was back in the bedroom, she crawled under the covers again.

The next morning she woke up at 7am and for the first time in two months she wasn’t tired. Except for a trip to the store, Lorraine spent a quiet day at home, mostly reading and with frequent trips to the kitchen for more tea, a sandwich for lunch and a light dinner early in the evening. She went to bed by 11pm and was up again at 7am the next morning. A gloriously sunny day greeted her when she opened the curtains.


That’s the first thing that came to mind when she saw the bright sun outside. By 8am she was on her way to the beach, heading in the opposite direction than most of the cars. It seemed like everyone was on their way to work, except Lorraine. That was one reason why she loved this week. The beaches were almost deserted as schools hadn’t closed for the summer holidays just yet and most people still had to work. She would have as much peace on the beach as she would have at home. Lorraine arrived at her favorite beach. She parked her car, grabbed her bag from the back seat and headed down to the beach. Parasols were placed several meters from each other – enough to give people some privacy. Under them wooden chairs waited. Lorraine settled in one of them. Closer to the shore there were some people, but other than that the beach was deserted. Even though it was still early, the sun was quite hot.

Lorraine closed her eyes and relaxed. A couple of minutes later she opened her eyes again. She couldn’t relax. Lorraine was restless, but she couldn’t quite understand why. Her breathing seemed a bit labored. Her heart beat against her chest in a rate that was higher than normal. She breathed in deep and held her breath, trying to calm herself. It didn’t work, even though she repeated it a couple of times. Only one thing would calm her down. Other than sleep, this was the one other major thing she missed out on the last two months. An orgasm.

She was horny.

Lorraine knew herself well enough to know that she would not be able to control her breathing or her heartbeat until she had the orgasm. Or two. In a nonchalant manner she looked around her, but still the only other people on the beach were those she saw earlier closer to the shore. She spread her legs slightly and slipped a finger inside her bikini bottoms from the side. Lorraine moaned when her finger touched her labia. Her finger moved downward to find her wetness and she spread it towards her clitoris. The elastic of her bikini bottoms limited her movements. Lorraine glanced around her again and confirming that she was still alone and unobserved, she moved her bikini bottoms to the side to expose her pussy. Her finger found her clitoris again.

She spread her legs a fraction more. Lorraine’s finger moved in small circles around her clitoris. The fire inside her burned fiercer than before. It wouldn’t take long before she reached her first orgasm. Lorraine loved watching herself when she played. She looked down at her fingers and the sight of them teasing and pleasing the most sensitive part of her body excited her even more. Involuntarily she started whispering: “Oh yes. Just look at that. It’s so beautiful. I need this so much. Oh yes. This is so fucking good. Yes. Make me cum. I want this orgasm. I need this orgasm. This is so good. Oh yes. More. I want to come. I’m coming. Oh god, I’m come-ing!”

Lorraine sat back in the chair, her fingers still on her clitoris but not moving anymore. Today only one orgasm was enough to allow a serene peace to take hold of her body.

© Rebel’s Notes

Wicked Wednesday

7 thoughts on “The Beach Chair

  1. I really liked it. I love the quiet when everyone else has something to do, but yet I can scamper about and frolic as I wish.
    Though never in this delightful of a manner; I shall have to rectify that.

  2. Time to go the beach… I love the idea of just needing an orgasm and taking it… but I would have to ask 😉 also I like the private but public side of this story.
    xxx Twiglet Tigger xx

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