The winds were angry, angry and loud, whipping his voice away and then turning the lash on her skirt, pushing it up, exposing her to the world, though there was nobody left to see her. The sensible people, the people not ruled by lust, had long gone inside, and the beach was deserted.

Her hand reached down, not to push the dress back, but to touch herself, no, cup herself, pressing her palm as hard against her cunt as she could.

"I'm very wet" she whispered.

"What?" he shouted back, "I can't hear you!"

"I'm wet!" she screamed into the phone.

"And I'm hard!" he screamed back. "Why are we screaming?!?"

"Fucking wind!" she replied as loudly as possible.

"Yes! Fuck in the wind!"

He never could leave a stupid line alone, but still, the idea excited her, to be out on the beach in the crashing waves, with the clouds growing dark over her head and him inside her, deep inside her, punishing her, fucking her hard from behind, pushing her down into the wet sand as nature roared around them.

"I need to come!" she screamed into the phone, kneeling down, the sand on her legs, the wind in her hair, and her hand on her clit rubbing furiously.

"Yes!" he screamed back and she wondered for a moment where he was that he could scream with such impunity. "I love you!"

"I love you too baby. I want you here. I want you now. I want you hard."

"Down on all fours, bitch!" he hollered.

Which really, really, made her wonder where he was, but she was turned on beyond caring as she leaned forward into the dune on her elbows, the phone to her good left ear, her right hand still fingering her cunt. "I am honey. I so am." she hollered back.

"I'm fucking you, you horny slut, out on the beach in the storm for the world to see!"

"There's nobody else out here, but they could see us if they were!"

It is that image, more than the wind and the ocean and the sand and the raw elements of God and Nature that sends her over the edge, the image of seven billion people watching, circling them, watching her come as she kneels in the sand on all fours with her cell phone, all of them vicariously participating, spiritually bound to her to God, to the sand, to the ocean, to the wind and each other,

Rubbing herself hard and fast, sweating and red with exertion, her tank top and skirt pulled up, her breasts and her knees and one elbow in the sand of the dune, the cell phone pressed to her ear, her long dark hair blowing, she comes, comes with him, comes screaming his name before God and all God's people.