Adriatic Shame Borders

Travel Short Stories · approx. 6 min read · 18+

I never understood why you absolutely have to fly somewhere no one knows you on your honeymoon. Until now. Until this moment, standing barefoot in the warm sand of a Croatian cove, the water so crystal clear I could count every single pebble on the bottom. Lukas stands behind me, his hands on my hips, and I feel him hold his breath. “Do you dare?” he whispers, the words tickling my ear. I turn around. His gaze is dark, full of that forbidden mix of tenderness and raw hunger that already made me wet between my legs at the wedding. “What wouldn’t I dare?” I ask, smiling slowly. The cove is empty. No boat, no hiker, no colorful umbrellas. Just us and the soft hiss of waves breaking longingly on the shore.

I feel his fingers, gently stroking the thin fabric of my bikini, tracing the edges of the bottoms, the hem already digging into my skin. A shiver runs down my spine, even though the sun burns mercilessly. I lean back, using his body as a support, a living wall, while my hands glide along his forearms. The light hairs on them are almost invisible against his tanned skin, but I feel every single one under my fingertips. “I love your hands,” I murmur, and he presses me tighter against him until I feel his heartbeat against my back. His lips touch my neck, a featherlight touch that instantly makes me shudder—an electric jolt straight to my lap. He doesn’t speak, but his breathing grows heavier, hoarser. I turn my head, catch his mouth, and the kiss is salty and hot, a foretaste of everything to come. My tongue meets his, and I taste the sea and pure, raw longing.

“Let’s go into the water,” I say, when we finally break apart, breathing heavily. He nods, and I see his pupils dilate, black with desire. I’m the one who takes the first step. I pull away from him and walk backward toward the water, slowly, provocatively, while my fingers find the clasp of my bikini top. It falls, and I toss it to him. He catches it laughing, the sheer fabric tight in his fist. The breeze strokes my bare breasts, nipples instantly hard under its kiss, and I watch his gaze grow heavy, how it clings to my skin. I take a deep breath, the air smells of salt and pines, of freedom, and I let my hips circle as I slowly, inch by inch, slip off the bottoms. Naked I stand before him, sand sticking to my soles, the sun caressing my skin. His eyes travel down me, linger between my legs, and I see him swallow. “You are beautiful,” he says, and I feel the words touch something deep inside me—a string only he can make vibrate.

The Warm Water

I pull off my bottoms and let them fall carelessly into the sand. Lukas’s eyes follow my every move, greedy, insatiable. His shirt is already open, his chest tanned from the last few days, muscles playing under the skin. I walk backward into the water until it reaches my thighs. It’s warm, almost body temperature, a liquid velvet that envelops me while the salt air caresses my skin. “Come,” I say, my voice hoarse with desire. He doesn’t hesitate a second. His shorts land next my bikini bottoms, and then he stands before me, wet to the chest, and I see his cock stiffen under the water’s surface, hard and ready. I reach for it, let my fingers glide over it, feel every vein, every swelling. He gasps softly, a sound that shoots straight into my lap. “Here?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. “Here,” I answer. No one will see us. The cliffs rise protectively around us, the sun burns on our shoulders. I lead him deeper, until the water covers us both to the waist. Then I turn around and brace myself with my hands on a smooth rock jutting out of the water. I feel his hands on my ass, pulling my cheeks apart, and the cool wetness on my moist slit, burning with desire. He leans forward, his lips at my ear. “Are you ready?” he whispers, his breath hot on my skin. I nod, press myself against him, offer myself to him.

He enters slowly, millimeter by millimeter, as if wanting to savor every resistance. I feel the stretch, the familiar but always overwhelming sensation of him filling me, but today it’s different. Today there is something wild in the air, the scent of salt and pines, the distant screech of a seagull. I thrust back against him, and he picks up the rhythm. The water washes around us, cool yet hot, and each thrust grows stronger, deeper. His hands cup my breasts, nipples hard under the wet fabric of the bikini top. “Leave it on,” he begs breathlessly, and I understand: He wants me half-covered, half-naked, the illusion of the forbidden, the boundary we are crossing. I moan as he thrusts deeper, until I feel him inside me, until I feel nothing else but him. The waves crash against our thighs, and I feel the arousal rising inside me, unstoppable like the tide surrounding us. His thumb finds my clit, circles it firmly, demandingly, and I feel myself clench, feel the orgasm building, a wave bigger than any surf. “Yes, come,” he rasps, and I explode in a wave that shakes me, legs trembling, my lap pulsing around him, I scream his name into the sky, and the echo bounces back from the rocks, a love song to the sun.

In the Shade of the Pines

Later we lie on the hot sand, sweat mingling with seawater on our skin, glistening like a precious film of oil. I still feel the pulsing between my legs, that lingering ache of fulfillment that reminds me of him with every tiny movement. Lukas rolls onto his side and props his head on his hand. “You know what I’d like to do now?” he asks, a glint in his eyes. I shake my head. “I want to take you from behind, here in the sand, while the sun goes down.” I laugh softly. “Recovered so quickly?” He grins, and I see he’s deadly serious. “We’re on our honeymoon. Who knows when we’ll find another lonely cove like this?” I sit up and let the sand trickle from my shoulders, a golden rain. “Then let’s not waste any time.” He stands and offers me his hand, his fingers closing firmly around mine. Together we wade.