Salty Getaway: A limerick is inspired.

A marriage is more or less a clash of two cultures—two different genders; two different families; two different tastes; two different sets of experiences, aspirations, and expectations. At first, the differences can be so attractive that they add excitement and passion, but they also can gross each other out!

The circumstances of my courtship with Tess made our marriage feel something like an arranged marriage- organized by the hand of God. We are from different parts of the world, backgrounds, and families, but we knew we were meant to be. So we both dived in, thoroughly committed for the whole ten yards. After a short engagement, we entered into our marriage relationship without too much knowledge of the many ‘little’ things about each other that we were soon to discover!

Before we met, Tessa had thought that perhaps she was destined for a celibate missionary lifestyle. She had also wondered as a kid of whether she’d end up being a nun! Early on in our relationship, I told her that she was way too sexy to cloister herself away in a convent; it would be a tragic waste of her talents! She has always been sexy and fun.

One of the big differences for us soon became obvious. It was the difference between a ‘see-food’ diet and a seafood diet. I’d eat almost anything. While I like simple food and lots of it, I discovered that Tess loved things from the sea. I am partial to some nicely cooked fish, particularly if it is battered and with chips, but most other stuff from the ocean I find quite gross. I have never liked the smell or the slippery feel; thinking back now, I guess those traumatic childhood experiences with pipis and squid were not mum and dad’s finest moments!

After coming to faith in Jesus and getting my head into the Bible, I realized that some of the old food laws were quite in-sync to my own particular culinary preferences. So jokingly, I would say to people, “I know that, with faith in Jesus, there is grace and freedom from ‘The Law,’ but I still think that Moses had a few good bits of advice when it came to not eating ‘ocean dwellers without scales.’” Tess laughed the first time I told her that, and from then on, she loved to ignore my advice and taunt me with a crustacean of any kind—a crab, or a prawn—or with a smelly sardine or shellfish! But she has continued to try to stretch my culinary likes and habits, and I am grateful for that.

It all came to a head for us one early summer in our marriage.

We were staying a few days at a friend’s place by a seaside lake. It was a weekend of ‘us time,’ plenty of time to enjoy each other slowly. It was a beautiful setting that was fairly secluded, but with a few friendly neighbors and local kids, and usually an interesting array of people in view, and quietly enjoying the lake fishing or sailing. The lakeside was rocky and covered with oysters. To my horror, Tess liked to go out there each afternoon; crouching down with a knife, she would wedge them off the rocks, shuck them, and eat them out of the shell right there. Raw. One after another.

Today, she kept looking back at me, knowing I was disgusted and calling out to me, “Ooh, Phil, come and have some. They’re so squishy and scrumptious.” And then mindful of neighbors, she added in a hushed tone, “and they are deliciously salty like your dick juice.”

I laughed at Tess. She seems frisky? I sat there in the sun in a fold-up chair at the water’s edge, just watching her lithe body barely covered with her skimpy, flowery bikini. A bright, wide-rim hat and reef shoes finished her holiday look.  I could never decide if I was a boobs-guy, a butt-guy, or a legs-guy, so I enjoyed gazing at her and comparing the relative merits of each of her assets against the others.

Today I found Tess’s boobs mesmerizing. As she bent over and exerted herself to free the oysters, which were sucking themselves onto the rocks for dear life, her stomach would tauten as she worked the knife. The muscles in her lean arms were shapely, as she pried the oysters off the rocks, with the water lapping quietly around her knees. When she finally released one from the rock, then the jerk made her breasts suddenly bob around. And with the setting sun, it was creating a lovely spectacle for me!

I loved her tits. They were full, more than a good handful! Her bikini straps were the type that tied in large bows at the sides, and as I watched for a while, I wondered if she might accidentally undo the bow by catching it with her shucking motion or snag it when she leaned forward near the jagged oysters. I smiled as I imagined her breasts bobbing free.

It was nice to focus on her boobs because the thought of those oysters made me feel sick to the stomach. She knew that, and occasionally taunted me by holding the oyster in the shell in front of her mouth, letting the juice run out and down her neck onto her breasts, and then with more “mmm, Phil. Oh, how yummy,” she would tip her head back suddenly and suck it down with a big sickening slurp!

So I just did the best a fella could do under the circumstances: I kept my focus on her breasts! I loved the depth of her cleavage, a cleft in the rocks. Mmm, that’s what I call ‘yummy’ I thought to myself.

Then I imagined that I could put on an invisible-man cloak and sneak right out there onto the rocks behind her. Then while she focused on extricating her dreadful oysters, I could quickly pull the strings of both bows together, suddenly releasing those masterpieces. And I imagined how I would then enjoy watching her panic at the dilemma of her boobs bouncing there, free for all to see.

It would be so funny to watch her. She has quite modest tendencies, and I like that. Even wearing such a skimpy bikini with a few people around the lakeside was something she usually felt a little uncomfortable doing. I smiled again as I imagined her sudden mammary liberation. With her hands full of the mollusks, bucket, and shucking knife, she’d be unable to correct her’ wardrobe malfunction’ very quickly. Yeah, I’d definitely enjoy that little show! Unfortunately, I’d left my invisibility cloak at home, so I’d just have to keep day-dreaming!

My mental undressing progressed while Tess continued as the hunter-gatherer princess.  I enjoyed her legs and butt and how the sunlight occasionally lit up the slot between her thighs running right up under her crotch. Mmm, yes, that’s yummy too, smooth and welcoming, I thought. I could feel my yearning for her body in mine. We had enjoyed each other at length this weekend. I called out to her, “Hey, babe, you are looking good!”

Tessa glanced up and called out, “Yes, and I’m feeling very good too.” She licked her lips deliberately and blew me a kiss, “You really should come out here and have some of these, honey. They make you feel good on the inside.” She said this rubbing her tummy and wiggling her hips—she knew I was perving at her!

“Well, I’d sure like to feel you good on the inside,” I replied, laughing.

“I’ll bet you would,” she said, nodding at me, “judging by that mound in your budgie smugglers!”

I peeked down at my throbbing penis secure within my swimmers. Could she really see my bulge from over there? I didn’t think so.

But before I could think of anything smart to say she continued, “And yes, babe, I think I’ll be needing to give you some serious lovin’ soon, because these soft, moist oysters are quite the turn-on!”

We both expected another great evening together. So while Tess shucked her last few oysters, I pulled out my phone and finished off the limerick I’d started the day before:

Seaside rocking- a limerick

On seaside rocks you ate oysters;

Inhibitions soon left their cloisters.

“With this shucking,” you then said,

“l am fucking good in bed…

Yes! Oysters, sure make this girl boist’rous.”

My limerick, as it turned, out was quite prophetic. She came in from the water, and we agreed to put off dinner! We went up to the house arm in arm and enjoyed a cool drink on the verandah. This progressed naturally, and we made passionate love there on the day-bed as the sun dipped behind the hills in the west. I could taste the oysters in her passionate kissing, and it was surprisingly lovely.

After, we lay there naked in the fading light and recovered from our lovemaking. The sunset-colored water gave way to darkness, and then emerged the full privacy of a starlit night-time. We wasted time together, reminiscing and laughing, and then suddenly, she was ready for more. As we curled together, she whispered in my ear with conviction, “Fuck me again, Phil—and this time harder!”

We pulled the day-bed down to the water’s edge, and there I  felt Tessa’s unusual urgency as she pounded and wriggled her body over and over upon my penis until orgasm after orgasm lapped over her. She moaned out loud; in the darkness, she wasn’t worried about the neighbors. Her breasts swayed delightfully above me in the soft light from the night sky. Maybe I am a boob-man, I thought whimsically.

Yes, oysters sure make my girl boisterous. And my love for things of the ocean without scales continues to grow!