In-Air Comfort

Comfort at the Beach

After finishing your delicious breakfast Dean takes your hand and leads you out of the restaurant. You assume he's leading you back towards the car until he makes an unexpected turn towards the esplanade.

"Babe, the car's back that way," you state pointing in the direction of the Impala.

"I know. I had something else in mind...unless you wanna go back to the hotel and continue what we started earlier?"

"As tempting as that is, lead the way." You let him guide you along the street as you each look through the glass windows at the displays. Eventually, he stops and leads you into a store filled with beachwear and accessories. You look at him shocked. "But you hate the beach?"

"But you don't. I saw you looking out the window earlier."

"But I'm not gonna go to the beach on my own on our honeymoon, nor am I gonna force you to be subject to the whole laundry list of complaints you gave me last time I asked to go the beach. You'll just be annoyed and then I'll feel guilty and the day will just suck." You turn to lead him back out onto the street but he pulls you close to his chest instead.

"I won't bitch about it, I promise." Dean spots a sexy red bikini out the corner of his eye and drags you over to the display picking out your size and handing it to you. "Trust me. Just go try it on."

"You promise? Not a word about the sand? Or the salt water? Or-"

"Anything for you, now go try that on and give me a fashion show." He pushes you towards the dressing room as he collects towels, sunscreen, and a new pair of sunglasses for each of you.

Once dressed in the slightly skimpy bikini you suddenly feel very self-conscious. You throw the flannel back on over the top and nervously peak out of the curtain for Dean. When you don't see him you quietly call out for him. He pops up from around the corner almost instantly with an overflowing basket.

"Alright, let's see it," he says encouraging you. You step out but keep your arms folded across your chest to keep the flannel shut. "Hey, it's just me. Don't get all shy on me now." He places the basket on the floor and pries your hands away from your chest and slips the flannel off your shoulders. His eyes glance over your body as he makes you spin for him. "Can't believe I got such a sexy wife." Sensing your unabating discomfort he pulls a light red, floral kimono from a nearby mannequin and slides it over your shoulders. "Better?"

You pull it closed in front for more coverage and nod. He kisses your cheek and pulls you close. "You're never this shy in bed."

"It's different. It's dark and you're the only one there."

"If anyone else tries to check you out or touch you they're dead. This," he gestures at your body, "is all for me."

"Alright, Mr. Big Talk, your turn." You venture into the men's section a pick out a pair of simple black boardshorts.

"Sweetheart, you know I don't do shorts."

"Actually, I know for a fact you do." You push them into his hands and lead him back towards the dressing room. "I've seen you cleaning Baby. Not to mention we share a room...I've seen your collection of short shorts in your drawer." You push him into the dressing room and close the curtain. While you wait for him you pick out a pair of slip-on sandals.

"Nope. No. Nope. I don't do shorts." Dean complains from behind the curtain.

"You promised. No complaints. Now get out here."

Dean awkwardly emerges while pulling at the bottom of the swim shorts which fall just above his knees. You walk around him, checking him out. The shorts fit perfectly, moulding to the shape of his sexy ass. You nod in approval, "Perfect. But you are losing at least a few of these top layers when we get on the sand," you say tugging at the collar of his jacket.