Under a sapphire-blue sky, the arc of the sandy beach draws itself out before me, as if forever. The Sun, out over the ocean, is barely above the horizon yet, and has the sky all to itself, for now. I like to walk here at sunrise, whilst the golden sand is still like a freshly made bed beneath my feet, and before the tourists arrive and swarm over everything like ants. The solitude gives me time to collect my thoughts. Besides, even though it is a windless calm now, a storm is forecast for later.
In the distance, a shimmering figure approaches. Drawing closer, this figure coalesces into a woman walking directly towards me. Streaming little footprints behind her in witness to her passage, she has long raven-black hair and a lean athletic build like a female soccer player. She looks about a decade older than me and is wearing a sleek high-cut swimsuit in navy blue, which contrasts with her almond-milk skin. Unused to company, I now feel a little underdressed in just my trunks.
Stepping into my path, she plants her bare feet down hard onto the sand. Placing pale hands onto thighs as well-muscled as a racehorse, she lowers her head before flicking it back with panache; her long glossy hair arcs over her shoulders before it cascades down her supple back like black rose petals tumbling down a satin sheet.
Standing up straight with hands positioned on hips where the cut of her swimsuit guards her further mysteries, there is the hint of a smile on an ethereal face. Her blue eyes languidly appraise me. When she looks up to meet my gaze it is like seeing daybreak over the open ocean.
"That's quite an exhibit you have there", she said, her voice melodious.
"W-w-what?"
"That big thing between your legs, of course."
I squirm like an awkward teenager.
Her lips, delicate like an orchid, curl into a little grin. "Don't blush. I'm very impressed." She steps towards me quickly, planting her feet firmly down again, her little toes coated in grains of sand. Using both index fingers, she gently prods me through the fabric of my trunks. "We should talk about your big balls", she said matter-of-factly.
Shocked, I open my mouth as if to remonstrate, but she moves to my side as gracefully as a gymnast and takes my hand, whilst her eyes, as big as full Moons, disarm me of any anger. Looking into those ocean-blue eyes, for a moment, I forget to breathe.
Her brow furrows with concern. "I know how vulnerable they are," her hand gestures towards my loins, "even big ones like yours."
The underside of my package receives a gentle flick as if it were a puppy being disciplined. I let out a whimper and instinctively pull myself back.
"Yes, they are sensitive," she said.
Hands as soft as linen take hold of my hips coaxing me back towards her. Her eyes are as persuasive as the strongest currents.
Folding aerobicized arms neatly under the mysteries of her breasts, she glances down at my loins. "I could squeeze them so hard." Moving to my side, her body is as warm as a tropical sea as it brushes against me. "I'd have you crying like a baby."
I know she's right.
Nostrils flaring, she thrusts her head and shoulders back and declares, "No man's balls can stand a good squeeze from a woman," taking hold of my hand again, her touch as gentle as a summer's breeze, her voice softens, "but I don't want to hurt your balls." Lips curling into a lopsided grin she looks down at my loins. "I have better uses for a big package like yours, but there are women around here who just want to hurt men like you."
Circling me now, her feet leaving a mandala of little footprints in the sand, she traces her index finger along the seam of my trunks as if marking her territory. "They know exactly how to hurt a man," she said, her voice trailing off as she turns her gaze out to sea.
Hooking little fingers into the top of my trunks, her nails raking against me like little silver daggers, she pulls them open an inch. With her mouth forming into a half-smile, she leans forward and glances inside my trunks for a split second before letting them snap closed. Stepping back and laughing to herself, she playfully taps me on the nose with a finger. It is like being embraced.
She looks back into my eyes. "They often comb this beach looking for a man's balls to hurt."
I shudder as her nails brush my inner thighs like little shards of glass as with a cupped hand, firm in its manner, she takes my whole package into her custody. At the same time, she places her other hand onto the small of my back securing my compliance. I whimper as a gentle squeeze, as if testing the ripeness of a peach, is applied to my organs.
Releasing me, she gazes out to sea as if searching for both something and nothing. Her fingers caress my arm like warm rain. "I can save both your balls from these women, but I want something." Her fingers now trace a serpentine path on my arm, she meets my gaze again with eyes like whirlpools drawing me in.
"What?"
Stifling a smile, she gestures down. "I want what's inside your trunks, of course."