My husband has a family house at Old Orchard Beach in Maine, which I have written about in past journal entries. Every summer we go up there. Another summer had rolled around, and it was once again time for the family stay at the cottage. Sometimes we can stay at the cottage and at other times, we just park the car at the cottage and rent a motel room.
This year after two nights and two days at the cottage, I was already going nuts. It was all the kids and the family that was driving me crazy. 'Ugh! I needed some tender loving care.' I didn't see anyone online on any of my adult web sites worth hooking up with, so I knew I was going to have to break down and go out looking on my own.
Everyone was getting on my nerves, so I finally decided to walk away. Since I normally do this, it wasn't unusual, that I decided to walk up the beach. I was wearing my black bikini and off I went. As some of you may know from my earlier journal entries, Old Orchard Beach is a huge Tourist trap, attracting not just the locals but also many Canadians. I’ve had some luck with scoring some good times with our cross border neighbors before, so I wasn't surprised seeing so many Canadians on the beach, even on July 4th.
As I walked further up the beach the number of people on the beach started to thin out until only one or two people were still walking. Not too long after I broke away from the majority of beach goers, I noticed a pale looking guy. I knew right away he was a Canadian because of the small bathing suit. Both Canadian men and women don't have any hang ups about how they look. Even in the smallest of bathing suits, some who might over wise look disturbing showed no modesty.
As I walked along, I kept glancing over at this guy. He was just slightly ahead of me, about twenty or thirty feet. He had on a small yellow bathing suit. I noticed now that he looking at me from time to time as we walked in the same direction. I knew he saw me looking at him as well since he was smiling a lot.
He slowed up so we could come into vocal range so I said, “Bonjour.”
His smile widened, "Bonjour! Tu es écoeurante."
I shook my head, "Sorry, that's the only word I really know in French."
"Pardon, cherie. I only said, 'Hello! You are beautiful.'"
I answered back. “Thank you.”
I then apologized for not knowing more French.
He walked toward me and asked, “How did you know I was Canadian?”
I pointed out his suit. I then further explained that he looked very pale and was different looking from the rest of the guys near the Pier.
He laughed and introduced himself. “I am Jack and hail from Montreal."
I smiled encouragingly and replied, "Nice to meet you, Jack. I am Lindsey."
Taking this as an invitation he asked, “Do you mind if I walked with you?”
Jack was about five foot eight inches tall, with black curly thinning hair. I guessed he was in his late forties or early fifties. We continued to talk. I knew he was watching me. He repeated to me again that I was beautiful. I was dying to get laid, so I waited for an opening to feel out the situation.
When I felt the time was right I took a plunge. I told him about how I was of French Canadian descent, but had been born and grew up in America. He rambled on about life in Montreal and why he comes to Maine to vacation.
I told him how much I enjoyed coming to Old Orchard Beach, and then explained about the family house. Continuing to engage him in small talk I went on telling him how being on vacation with the family was driving me stir-crazy, so occasionally I would go for long walks.
He laughed as he made his move, “I love American women.”
“Yeah, well I like Canadian men,” I replied wanting to keep him talking.
He looked over at me skeptically, “Why do you make up stuff, about liking Canadian guys.”
At first, I said, “Well you are polite and more laid back than American guys.”
He agreed with me. I then took my chance knowing it was time to see if I was going to score.
I hurried on with the conversation, “Oh and most Canadian men are uncut.”
Looking confused he asked, “What does this mean?”
I smiled and said, “Uncircumcised.”
“Well that’s true and even I am uncut.” he replied laughing, looking at me in that way that I knew I now fully had his attention.
Turning to him so he could get a good view of my body I replied, “Good! It’s better that way! Most American men are cut and that’s fine, but I prefer uncut.”
This wasn't exactly true, but I didn't care since I was now making some progress.
Plunging ahead with our conversation I now went for broke, “Uncut cocks are more sensitive and better to suck!”
I think he saw that as a sign and said, “I prefer American women because they wear fewer clothes.”
I then further lead him on my with my comeback, “Yeah, but I wish there was a nude beach!”
Our discussion went on and I told him where he could sunbathe nude.