Satisfying each other, on a daily basis.

Based on a post by sex4every1. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

I had just divorced my husband after twenty-two years of marriage. It wasn't anyone's fault, there just was no more love, let alone lust, between us. I think we both gravitated to different interests and different activities. Sex was almost nonexistent, but I often saw semen stuck to the shower walls, after he left for work. Me? I had vibrators and erotic novels, keeping me sated.

We had decided to dispense with lawyers and all the red tape and to just part amicably; it helped, of course; that we were very wealthy and I was offered a very reasonable settlement. For that amount, I was able to buy an old house at the beach, which had been a dream of mine for many years. My husband loved the busy city life while I was more of a country or seaside girl. I swiftly came across a fixer-upper, which had been deserted for years, mainly because of the steep asking price.

As money was not an issue and because I didn't mind the prospect of a long-term renovation, I didn't need a lot of time to make up my mind. Although the place was an absolute dump, I insisted on moving in as soon as possible, before any of the repairs or modifications had even started.

One of the most appealing features of the house was a giant porch overlooking the coastline; at the left side of the house the porch ended in a wooden stair case, providing direct access to the beach below. From the very first day, that porch was my favorite part of the whole house. As I was sitting there on my porch that first evening, looking at the setting sun and listening to the ocean sounds, I began to unwind for the first time in many months (maybe even years) and an almost intoxicating tranquility took over my mind and body. I can't remember how long I just sat there, enjoying the serenity, but suddenly my attention was drawn to a man walking up to the house. He had a very confused look on his face; and the closer he came, the more puzzled he seemed to get; until he was right in front of the house, looking up at me. I nodded and smiled, greeting him and asked, "Can I help you with something?"

"I didn't know someone lived here." the elder gentleman replied.

"Well, I just moved in this morning." I said, getting up and leaning over the banister of the porch. “My name is Jill.”

"Oh, hello, Jill. Well, I see; it's been so many years, I guess I didn't even consider the possibility." he murmured, barely audible. He looked completely disoriented for a moment.

"Would you like to come up for a cup of tea?" I asked, taking pity on him.

"No, I wouldn't want to disturb you." he said, turning away and preparing to leave.

"Don't be silly. Come on up." I insisted.

Still reluctantly, he walked up the stairs and introduced himself; his name was Jack and he was 44 years old. After pouring him a cup of tea, I listened to his story.

He lived about half a mile away; and had done so for the better part of his life. Fate had taken his wife; Darla. His high school sweet heart; away from him only months after marrying her. He had never loved another woman since then. While life had not been particularly kind to him, he seemed very cheerful and happy, although a bit lonely, I sensed. When he started talking about his interests, it seemed that we both shared a passion for the opera. He struck me as a very intelligent, kind and lively man.

However, the longer we talked, the more restless he seemed to become. At first, I assumed he was just the nervous type and that was the reason why he was constantly fidgeting in his chair or checking the time, but when he started showing physical signs of stress; dry mouth, sweaty hands, foot tapping; I decided to call him on it.

"Jack, Is something wrong? You seem terribly nervous."

"Don't worry about it, Jill." he smiled.

"Jack, something is obviously bothering you. And I would very much like to know what that is." I replied sternly.

"But I don't want to ruin an otherwise lovely evening." he whispered, getting even more nervous now.

"Come on, whatever it is, it can't be that bad," I insisted, "Spit it out."

He took another sip from his tea, took a deep breath and then said, "For the past seventeen years, I've been coming to this stretch of beach, come rain or shine, every evening at dusk. It has been my memorial tradition, to remember my departed wife, and find relieve from my grieving. It includes an activity of a more intimate nature.”

"Okay," I said, as he paused for a moment.

" to masturbate," he concluded.

I looked at him, waiting for a punch line, but none was coming.

"Excuse me?" I said, wanting to make sure I hadn't misunderstood him.

"Masturbate," he repeated, "What do you younger people call it? Jacking off, jerking off, wanking."

"I see," I said, unsure of what to do or say next.

"I am sorry, I have made you uncomfortable. I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I think it's best if I go now," Jack said as he was about to get up and leave.

"Every day for 17 years, in the same spot?" I asked, not wanting him to leave.

"It's not that I don't jack off in other places, but yes; I don't think I've missed three days in all those years," he replied as he sat back down.

"Why here?" I asked.

"There's no deeper meaning or romantic story behind this location, if that's what you mean. I just got on my knees one day, jacked out a load and came back the following day to that same spot; and I have been doing it ever since. I guess I've always known that someday this house would be sold and I'd have to find another spot, but it's been so many years that I started kidding myself that the moment would never come," Jack said as he gaze into the darkness for a moment.

"But don't worry," he immediately added, turning his head towards me, clearly worried about my reaction, "I won't do it again; I'll find another spot."

"You don't have to stop just because I moved here," I said, after giving the matter surprisingly little thought.

"Off course I do," Jack replied, "This part of the beach is yours now."

"Don't be silly, the beach belongs to everyone. There's no reason why you should give up a 17-year old tradition," I said.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yes I am. You can come and dump a load on my beach anytime you want!" I smiled.

"That's very kind of you. But what about when you've got company?" he asked.

"Don't worry, I never have company. I don't have any kids, I have one brother I haven't spoken to in years and no real friends to speak of; it seems my husband got those in the divorce," I smiled.

"And don't worry about your privacy," I suddenly added, "I plan on having some drapes up very soon."

"Don't be silly," he said almost as soon as I had finished my sentence, "If I can jack off my fat cock and shoot my sperm on your beach, I don't mind you watching every second of it!"

I smiled as I noticed his language had suddenly gotten a lot fouler.

"Besides." he continued. "I like to be watched, it makes me feel like a wanker!"

"Oh really?" I smiled, not knowing how else to respond.

"Hell yes. There's no point in sugar-coating it, I jack off every day; sometimes more than once; that makes me a wanker, period. And doing it while someone's watching, only makes my cock bigger and makes me squirt an even more disgusting load than usual."

"I; uhm." I stuttered, at a loss for words.

"Come on, be honest," he said, "Don't you think I am a wanker."

"Uh, maybe a little bit." I admitted, realizing that that was what he wanted to hear.

"Very good," Jack said, cupping his hard crotch with his right hand, "Then I'll think I'll go and jack off. You know, the technic ought to be named after me!" He winked.

"Now?" I asked, catching myself looking at the hard bulge in his pants.

"Do you mind?" he asked, unzipping his pants.

I’m hardly the one to feign moral disgust for self-pleasure. It repulses me to hear women demean men who jerk off. I usually observe uppity women and ‘church ladies’ being more guilty of this hypocrisy.

"No, go ahead," I quickly responded, not wanting him to whip out his cock in front of me. He smiled and turned away, walking down the stairs, further unzipping his pants and taking out his cock.

As he walked away from the house, in the direction of the sea, his arm movements left little to the imagination. About thirty meters in front of the house, he suddenly dropped to his knees, his back still towards the house and continued wanking. Although he couldn't see me; with his back towards me; and I couldn't see much more than his outline, I still felt uncomfortable looking at him while he was pleasuring himself and so I went inside. This had been a strange ending to an interesting and pleasant evening.

I tried to detach the last fifteen minutes from the rest of the evening in my mind, but; naturally; my brain kept focusing on that particular part. I fell asleep while visualizing Jack jerking off and spurting his cum on the beach; my beach, in front of my house!

I slept like a baby and for most part of the following day, I hardly thought about Jack. It wasn't until dusk started to set that my mind wandered off and started thinking about what happened last night. As I was sitting in front of the tv, I found myself constantly looking at the clock. Always finding some sort of reason, I got up and walked past the glass porch doors every five minutes or so. Eventually I got what I was after, confirmation of his presence. When I saw him sitting there, on his knees, in the same spot as yesterday; and probably every day before that, for like forever; a sort of calm came over me. I stayed and watched until he got up and seemed to be stuffing his cock away. As he walked away, he glanced over at the house and waved as he saw me through the porch doors.

As I hadn't bothered with turning off any lights behind me, I must have been pretty hard to miss. I felt like a silly school-girl for waving back. With nothing more to focus on, I quickly fell asleep in front of the tv. When I awoke several hours later, I went to bed, thinking of Jack once again. Although I wasn't in the habit of changing into my night attire too long before actually going to bed, the following evening, I did so right after dinner; telling myself I'd be more comfortable that way. So, in nothing more than some white panties and a men's shirt; that barely covered the panties; I set up camp behind the porch doors with a cup of tea. With the lights on behind me, it was pretty obvious that I wanted him to see me. And by the way I was dressed for the occasion, I was also sending pretty explicit signals; although I was still in denial about that.

When he showed up, he already noticed me on his way in and waved, smiling widely. I raised my hand, greeting him back and watched him as he sank to his knees in his usual spot. This time however, he didn't face the ocean but the house, looking straight at me as he took out his cock and started jacking off. I watched him and he watched me for several long minutes, until he eventually arched his back and shuddered; probably shooting a load of cum in the sand. Shortly afterwards, he got up and stuffed his cock back in his pants. But instead of leaving, he approached the house and seemed to be waiting for me to open the porch doors, as he clearly had something to say.

When I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, he said, "Nice view, but could you lose the shirt tomorrow? I would very much like to see some tit."

Without waiting for an answer, he waved goodbye and walked away. I quickly closed the porch doors again, taken aback by his bold question; but then again, I had done very little to discourage him so far. Anyway, I would just have to disappoint him tomorrow, I told myself as I turned off the light and went to bed.

But, the following evening, there I was again, dressed in a pair of panties and the same men's shirt I wore the night before; holding my cup of tea and trying to convince myself that I wasn't a complete slut. When he showed up and waved, I didn't wave back, but simply unbuttoned a button from the shirt; I don't know why I did it, I guess I was on some sort of automatic pilot. After watching me undo a second button, Jack quickly took off all of his clothes; sandals, t-shirt, shorts and underwear; before taking his cock in his right hand and jacking himself off as he dropped to his knees. While my left hand clenched my warm cup of tea, my right hand kept undoing buttons until there were none left to undo. Then I nonchalantly opened the shirt all the way, so both my tits were exposed.

He arched his back not much later and dumped yet another load in the sand. As soon as I realized he had done his business, I closed my shirt to cover up my tits; without actually buttoning up again.

As he got up and picked up his clothes, I opened the porch doors and shouted, before he had a chance to walk off, "Would you like to come up for a cup of tea?"

"You sure?" he shouted back as he was already walking towards the house.

"Yes, I am sure," I said as I walked into the kitchen and poured him some tea. As I walked back to the porch; where he had in the meantime taken a seat; I was a little surprised that he hadn't put his clothes back on yet and was appar