#3014: Jurmala, Latvia
Original photo: @petitesluxures
Inga and Arturs escape to the quiet beauty of the Baltic coast, where the sea hums, the fire crackles, and desire simmers just beneath the surface. As night falls and the world disappears, their bodies find warmth—and bliss—in each other.
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Transcript
Evening had just begun, the sun still high in the sky, when Arturs and Inga began packing for their night at the shore. They’d been together for three years and had recently moved in together—less like lovers now, and more like a small, content family. One of their shared loves was nature—any excuse to escape into it, they took.
They camped often—across Latvia and even parts of Europe—but nothing compared to their getaways by the Baltic Sea. The water was rarely warm, except for a few lucky months in summer, but that didn’t matter. There was something magical about sleeping near the waves—as long as they remembered the bug spray.
While Arturs handled the tent and sleeping bags, Inga packed their food and drinks. Once ready, they left their apartment and headed to the car, chatting about the simple things—their day, their plans. It wasn’t boring; it was familiar. Intimate in its own way.
As they drove, a warm wind swept through the open windows. Inga smiled wide, letting it brush across her face. Arturs stole a glance at her, heart swelling at the sight. Sometimes, it amazed him that she was his—that he could kiss her whenever he wanted.
They parked and started unloading. Cars weren’t allowed too close to the beach—an effort to preserve the coast. Inga carried their food basket while Arturs hauled the rest. The beach was still busy—sunbathers, swimmers, laughter echoing in the air. But the couple veered away from the crowd, finding solace in a more rugged, rocky area where few ventured.
Arturs pitched the tent while Inga talked about her work and the evening ahead. Soon, they sat in the sand, sharing food and drinks, watching the tide gently kiss the shore. The view of the waves glinting against the rocks was one they never tired of.
As the sun slipped lower, they started a fire and pulled out sausages to roast. Fire-cooked meals always tasted better—another joy of being in nature. They ate slowly, talked about their dream bicycle tour through Europe, and made quiet, joyful plans.
By the time Inga glanced at the beach again, the crowds were gone. Just them and the sea. A little spark flickered inside her.
She stood up, walked toward the water, and looked back at Arturs with a knowing smile. He didn’t yet know what she was planning, but he was already intrigued.
Inga slowly undressed—first her shirt, then her shorts—each motion deliberate. Moonlight and firelight danced across her skin. Arturs watched her, entranced. Then came the bra, revealing her perfect breasts, and finally her panties, until she was standing bare before the sea.
Still holding his gaze, she cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples, moaning softly. She loved the way he looked at her—like she was the most beautiful thing in the world.
He called for her to come back to him. She shook her head with a wicked grin, then turned and walked into the sea.
The water was cold. Goosebumps bloomed across her skin, her nipples hardening. But she kept going, slowly adjusting to the temperature. She called out, “You can have me... if you catch me,” and dove into the deeper water.
A moment later, she heard the splash—Arturs was in, chasing her.
Inga giggled and swam, not too fast. She wanted him to catch her.
He did.
His hands gripped her shoulders and spun her to face him. Their eyes met, breathless and laughing. It was a perfect moment—just the two of them, soaked in moonlight and saltwater, wrapped in joy and love.
Their kiss was deep, slow, and hot—nothing like the cold water surrounding them. It was passion and familiarity, a spark that still burned bright. Arturs’s hands roamed over her slick skin, and Inga’s heat grew, burning from within.
She teased him, letting her hand slide around his growing cock, feeling it pulse under her grip. He moaned against her mouth, tongue teasing hers. The need between them became too much to bear.
Inga pulled back. “Let’s go to shore,” she said, voice low.
Arturs nodded, his eyes dark with desire. They swam back, brushing against each other, heat building with every touch.
On the beach, they lay on a large towel, firelight flickering beside them. Arturs hovered over Inga, their kisses turning urgent. His cock rubbed against her wet slit, and Inga moaned into his mouth, nipples tingling against his chest.
She reached for his hand and guided it to her pussy, letting him feel how wet she already was. He pulled away, eyes smoldering with understanding.
He kissed down her body, savoring every inch. Inga spread her legs wide, aching for him. He grinned at her desire, and she laughed softly, telling him she felt like this every time they were together.
Then he pressed his mouth to her pussy, kissing it like he kissed her lips—deep, sensual, reverent. His tongue circled her clit, then flicked it, sucked on it, teased it while Inga moaned and writhed. Her back arched, fingers digging into the sand. She let the sounds of the waves blend with her cries of pleasure as her orgasm crashed over her in wild, endless waves.
She lay panting, her body humming, but she wasn’t done.
Inga pulled Arturs up and pushed him onto his back. His face lit up with surprise and then a wide smile as she straddled him, pressing her soaked slit to his hard cock. She teased him with her hips, then guided him to her entrance and slowly slid down, moaning as he filled her.
His hands gripped her hips. She paused, savoring the stretch, then began to ride him, slow and deep.
Their bodies met again and again, surrounded by firelight, moonlight, and the rhythm of crashing waves. They moved together like nature itself—raw, connected, beautiful.
As pleasure took hold, their moans echoed across the empty shore, swept away by the wind, sacred and secret.
Afterward, they lay tangled on the sand, still joined, still breathing each other in.
They whispered about the future, about all the places they’d go, the life they were building. They knew one thing for sure:
As long as they had each other, they would always find their way back to happiness.