Alistaire's Summer 4: More Beach

It has come to my attention that Alistaire only seems to wake up when he smells bacon. This is only partially true. He definitely wakes up whenever he smells bacon, but he is capable of getting out of bed without it.

That said, the man or woman who invents an alarm clock that makes the sounds and smells of frying bacon, instead of fucking beeps, will retire an immensely wealthy individual, with or without Alistaire's business.

Amirite?

Regardless of your personal pork product-related morning rituals, please remember that this is not meant to be a realistic story. I strive merely for the plausibly ridiculous. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!

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THE OTHER ONE AT THE BEACH

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I woke to the smell of bacon. I never sleep that late, but first of all Poppy had worn me out as hard as I had worn her, and second, after she had slipped back to her own bedroom, I had not exactly fallen right to sleep as you would expect after that much sex.

The Sloane issue was weighing on my mind.

I mean, yeah. There was some remembering of things in the past, and some serious fantasizing about the possibility of things in the future. But come on. Poppy just had to be fucking with my head, right?

And even if Poppy was not setting me up for the mother (ahem) of all practical jokes, the fact remained that Sloane was not explicitly on board. She might not be on board at all. She could even be unaware of the train.

Well, she was sure as hell aware of the train, it had made enough noise the night before. And she had ridden it once herself, once upon a time...

I sighed as I bounced out of bed. Hunger far outweighed my desire for woolgathering. I pulled a shirt over my head, a shower could wait, and I headed out with a sigh.

The train would make a stop. Sloane could get on if she wanted to.

Please get on.

Please don't banish the train.

Hoo boy.

Turns out Poppy can make some serious waffles.

Sloane joined us, looking fresh, but this morning in a conservative, heavy, concealing robe. She was not as ravenous as were Poppy and I, for obvious reasons, but she clearly approved of the little kernels of sugar that Poppy suspended throughout the batter as much as I did.

"Where did you learn this trick?" she asked her daughter.

"YouTube," shrugged Poppy.

"Weather's perfect today," Sloane went on with a smile, after swallowing another bite. "Beach day, right guys? I want some sun, and I have not swum in the ocean in ages."

"Absolutely," Poppy agreed excitedly. "I brought a huge bottle of SPF 50 sunscreen. It's going to be awesome. Right, Alistaire?"

"Um, yeah," I agreed slowly. I was having serious reservations about how this day was supposed to go, and even more serious reservations about how it was going to go.

"SPF 100 this first day, young lady," Sloane retorted in the most parental voice imaginable. "You can go to 50 or even the 30 I brought in the next days, but I've seen the bathing suits you took on this trip. There is a lot of skin that will be seeing the harsh sun for the first time in a while. I don't want a lobster for a vacation companion." She paused. "I'm sure Alistaire doesn't either..." she added with a small grin.

Poppy shot a look my way and almost blushed.

"Sunburn

sucks

, Poppy," I agreed. "I think I've got a better tan than either of you, and I am going with 50."

"Speaking of your bathing suits," Sloane went on blandly. "Can I borrow the red one? I think that one looks comfy."

"Comfy, Mom?" Poppy asked archly. Then she smiled, carefully making a point of not looking at me. "But yeah, please wear it. I'll wear the blue one."

The look they shared had an element of Game On to it.

Shitshow, all right. I was suddenly heavily invested in how those bikinis looked. If they looked as good as I suspected, that could be wonderful or disastrous for me, but I was all in now, either way.

With breakfast done, I headed to my room to perform the arduous task of pulling on some shorts and shrugging into a teeshirt. I returned to the living room possibly before Sloane and Poppy were done so much as discussing the suits in Poppy's room.

While I waited, I texted Chris to see how he was doing.

CHRIS

: Dude, where are you this week? I just saw your mom at the grocery

ME

: I am at the beach with a friend from school and fam. See you Monday. Lunch, or R U working?

Bwahaha. I was going to love showing him a selfie with Poppy when I got back...

Poppy came out first, grumbling.

"What?" I asked.

"She asked to borrow my suit in front of you deliberately," she grumped. "She knows I hate it when she borrows my clothes, and I could not yell at her with you right there!"

"Does she do it all the time?"

"No," Poppy admitted. "She only does it when I have something really cool. She thinks it is a flex to show off she can wear her daughter's clothes."

"In fairness," I said seriously. "

Any woman

who can fit in one of your outfits deserves a flex."

That got me a very gratifying smile. But then she bitched on. "She especially likes outfits where it is obvious the one place where my clothes do not fit her..."

I knew what she meant. The one place where Poppy's clothes did not fit Sloane was actually two places. Two horizontally adjacent places.

I found the conversation irrelevant, mostly because I was kind of cataloging every polyester fiber of the blue bikini Poppy had on under a beach 'coverup' that consisted of just a mesh sarong around her hips. The blue of her bikini was bright, and the top wrapped from around her back then crossed up over her breasts and met again behind her neck. The thing lifted and showcased the bare handfuls of her firm breasts magnificently, and somehow sported the hitherto unknown to me characteristic of under-cleavage.

I was a fan.

The bottom was a low-waisted boy short that might have been lightly modest in front, but covered less than half her ass in the back. The mesh covering her from hips to ankles was so open it just made you feel like you had x-ray vision.

I had just decided that Poppy was sex incarnate when Sloane wandered out of her bedroom. At first, I was bummed, because Sloane's idea of a beach coverup was the opposite of Poppy's. She wore a loose, flowing pair of tan linen trousers and a shapeless, baggy, and very worn-out white cotton shirt. The only sign of this alleged red bikini was the left strap that peeked out of the wide, stretched-out neckline where it hung unevenly just off that shoulder.

It only took as long as it required for Sloane to walk fully into the room, grab her beach bag, and turn toward the sliding glass doors out to the beach for me to register that this outfit was actually sexy as hell. The trousers were loose everywhere except right across the pert, bouncy curves of Sloane's excellent ass. And the drape of the soft fabric there betrayed no creases of bikini bottom lines. The suit was either a thong or another pair of boy shorts. Either would have my approval, but that was nothing on the fantasy I entertained that there were no bottoms under there.

I didn't get my hopes up about that, and neither should you. We were heading to a crowded public beach in the southern United States.

But I could think about it.

I was pretty sure I was supposed to.

Sloane's waistband was held up by elastic, which ran about an inch or so below the top of the pants, leaving a loosely flared band above. The white shirt was tucked tightly into the left side at her hip, while the right side hung free, almost low enough to conceal her ass on that side, but high enough to make it feel like you were getting a peek. I realized that the way the old, worn-out shirt was tucked in was what tugged the neckline over to expose the bikini strap. Definitely deliberate.

Thank God I had purchased and brought a couple of new pairs of board shorts that were baggy as hell on my tall, lanky frame. Paying attention to concealing erections was going to be a large part of today's agenda, and the loose trunks gave me a plausible chance.

Poppy had her identical beach bag already, and I unfroze quickly, grabbing the small shoulder bag I'd been taking to the beach for five years as we followed Sloane out the door.

It was mid-morning, and the beach was already starting to fill up with summer crowds. But we were a significant distance from the nearest public parking lot, and the beach was lined here with houses, not condos, so we had little trouble finding a stretch of sand above the high-tide mark to spread out towels.

Poppy removed and tucked her sarong into her bag before she even pulled out her towel. I reflected that her bathing suit actually covered quite a bit of skin, aside from her lower butt cheeks and that hint of under-cleavage. But it fit her like a glove and gave off that, 'I don't have to show you any skin to make sure you know I'm hot as the sun' vibe.

Sloane spent quite a bit of time fussing with our setup, directing Poppy and me where to put things like the small cooler I was carrying, etc. She was just acting like a regular mom.

Meanwhile, I was starting to die inside, wondering about the red bikini, and when she might let me see it. I was actually watching her more than Poppy, despite my friend being there in her Look At My Body, Goddammit suit.

And Sloane was fully aware of my stares. I have learned quite well by now when a woman knows I am staring at her, and when she is liking it. Then, with no fanfare or even so much as a 'Well, that's that then,' she started to ditch the coverup outfit.

It was masterful. She just took the clothes off in a completely casual fashion, no lingering moves, no self-caresses, no deliberate posing. But never had I seen such a sexy disrobing. Somehow she made it, despite being in the middle of the beach at 10:45 AM, feel like a private voyeuristic experience only for me. She casually moved and turned so that I had the best possible angle of view as each garment exposed each bit of her. She was sideways to me as the shirttail tugged free, exposing her flat stomach. But she continued her turn so that her breasts were pointed right at me as the shirt tugged upward, bringing them, tenuously contained in the red triangles of Poppy's bikini, into view as her face became hidden in the shirt. Then she turned away from me to bend over and tuck the top into her bag. She did not even fully straighten. Then she was three-quarters turned away from me as she slipped the trousers off her waist and down over her ass. The suit was not quite a thong, but it was crazy high-waisted and high cut at the legs, and the view it afforded of Sloane's ass, drawn tight by her slight bend at the waist was fan-damn-tastic. She was back sideways to me as she stepped out of the pants, one leg at a time. She tucked the pants into the bag and straightened to look around.

"A beautiful day, isn't it, Poppy? Alistaire?" she asked casually. I got treated to another full turn as she checked out the beach. Honestly, the bikini did not live up to my fantasies. It was not some string number that barely covered anything. The top was the two traditional triangles, but they were held on by significant straps, not strings, and provided quite a bit of coverage. It was too small for Sloane's slightly larger breasts, but she was hardly spilling out. Much. The bottom was awesome, but not epic.

I ripped my eyes off Sloane to give Poppy another good eye-bath, because I am not stupid. As she gave me a look that said it was about time, I reflected that the blue bikini was actually a bit sexier, in my dispassionate appraisal.

Of course, there was the special sauce for Poppy's bikini in that I knew for certain I was going to be seeing what was under it later.

Yes, I know what Poppy had told me about Sloane's hopes. I know what Sloane had just done in front of me, for me. But Poppy was more than capable of totally fucking with my head. She had done it several times back at school, once in epic fashion. No, you don't get to hear about it. It was fucking embarrassing. I might have held it against her if she had not later held herself against me...

And Sloane, even if unaware of what Poppy was pulling, might easily just be using my eyes for a little ego boost for herself. And I sensed the tease apple had not fallen far from the tease tree, so she might just be blowing my mind for the sheer entertainment of it all. And she might just have been playing with fire in torturing Poppy through me.

I was going to enjoy this day, but I was going to have to watch my step... as well as erections like the one I was currently hiding as I sat on my towel. Poppy knew it was there though. Sloane, I'm not so sure of.

Things went from bad to worse when Sloane immediately produced a huge bottle of SPF 100 sunscreen and announced, in her best mom voice, "Sunscreen first! Don't forget." She squirted a long line down one arm and handed the bottle to Poppy before beginning to rub it in. Poppy got started as well and extended the bottle toward me. I just waved the can of spray-on sunscreen I brought. It is probably bad for the ozone layer or whatever, but I find it a lot easier to apply. It also went on quick, leaving me with more time to watch Poppy and Sloane rub in their lotion.

Both were quite skilled and got protected almost too quickly for my taste. Sloane watched Poppy like a hawk, and twice maternally pointed out where she was missing a spot. Worse than how fast they worked, they both were quite limber and had little difficulty applying the sunscreen pretty much everywhere. This short-circuited a few ideas that I had had about helping. It was still a helluva show.

But then Poppy handed the bottle toward me again. "I'm good," I said.

"My back dingus," she snarked. "I'm mostly covered, but I can't reach along my spine from about the shoulder blades down."

I wordlessly took the bottle and Poppy spun around to present her back to me. I squirted more than I needed onto my hand and ran the lotion up and down Poppy's lightly muscular back. Her tight skin felt amazing under my fingertips as I worked the lotion into invisibility, probing just under the strap across the middle of her back as casually as I could.

It was strange, touching the bare flesh of this girl I had had sex with many times, but this time doing it under the gaze of her mother... with whom I had also had sex. Still, I summoned the courage to work the lotion all the way down her back to where the waist of her bikini rested appealingly low above her ass.

"Ahem, I got down there," Poppy said drily.

I almost jerked my hands away, but I manned up and kept rubbing. Whatever Sloane might hope to do with me before this trip was over, or what I hoped to do to her, she at the very least knew what I was doing to and with her daughter. The woman has perfectly functional hearing.

"Yeah, but you didn't get it rubbed in well," I replied, and just kept rubbing right above her ass. I did chicken out before I could start tucking my fingertips under the bottom.

"All done," I said, after as long as I dared make the process. I rubbed my hands briskly.

"Alistaire," I heard Sloane say. She had turned around to also sit facing away from me, but was twisted around to look back at me and hold out the bottle which she had retrieved. "I could use the same help," she said calmly.

Hoo boy.

I had only ever physically touched Sloane on one occasion. And in the last moment that our flesh had touched, the only point of contact had been my dick thrusting up into her body. Alas, that had been when Poppy had caught us, triggering the five-alarm freakout of all freakouts.

Here we go.

I started above her shoulder blades and spread the lotion wider than was probably needed, but safety first, you know? Once done up there, rather than moving on down, I skipped down to her waist. Her bikini bottom's waist was so high, my hands were nowhere near her ass, and I took that as an excuse to rub things much more thoroughly. Then I slid back upwards. The band around her back, while not so thick as Poppy's blue top, was still an inch wide. But with the way Sloane was sitting, her athletic muscles had the middle of the strap not in contact with her spine.

I let my fingertips slide easily up under that gap. How that one inch of covered skin seemed so much more naughty than the acres of delectable, bare back, I did not know. But once my fingers were under there, I took a chance and began to move them out wide, squeezing under the strap as I moved.

Sloane decided to take Official Notice. She looked over her shoulder at me with a cocked eyebrow and cleared her throat.

I took a beat to react, then shrugged. "I've noticed women sometimes like to undo the back strap when they lie face down," I replied to her look innocently. "In case you want to later, I don't want you burned across here."

"Your concern is touching," Sloane snorted, but turned back away and said no more. But I felt her back relax just a touch.

There was only so far toward the edges of her back that I could go completely casually, but I went a lot further, fully onto her sides. I was still a good ways from those tits, but I made my point. And she didn't tense up when I did so. But there was a limit to how much of this I could do and keep it plausible. And a limit, I feared, to how far Sloane would let me get away with if she was simply teasing me as I teased her.

I slid my hands free and said casually, "There, we can enjoy the sun in safety. But don't forget to reapply every 90 minutes, or after we get in the water."

"That's my line," Sloane laughed.

"Ahem. You forgot to get under my top, Alistaire," Poppy said sternly.

Hoo boy.

Once Poppy was protected, we all lay back in the sun, all on our backs, making my bikini top shenanigans moot, and went over our plans to visit the nearby historic fort the next afternoon.

Sloane finally took out her book (the cover really was pretty smutty), and I grabbed my phone. Poppy sprang up and announced she was going to walk around some.

I had my phone silenced, for obvious reasons, and I saw I had a text from Jenn of all people.

JENN

: I hear you are at the beach today.

???

ME

: How did you hear that?

JENN

: Poppy is keeping us abreast of developments.

'Us'?

I did not answer that.

JENN

: How does Miss Manning look in the bikini Poppy is bitching that she stole?

ME

: Incredible

I typed that before thinking better of it. The sun was relaxing me too much. Filters, Al, filters!

JENN

: LOL! I'll bet she does

I needed to defend myself. And why was Jenn getting updates in the first place? Sure, she was Poppy's bestie, but still... Worse, anything I said was obviously going to get back immediately to Poppy.

ME

: I am enjoying the view, yes. But I am here to... be with Poppy

I considered adding three eggplant emojis, but I figured that might make Jenn pee a little from laughing.

I had time to go back to Instagram before I got the next text.

JENN

: Come on. You want another try, uninterrupted

JENN

: And I know that she has to want another bite of your apple

I replied quickly.

ME

: Oh, you do, do you? Well, I do NOT know!

JENN

: Fine. You have a point. Atop your head. But your history lets you at least flirt a little with her. You can't NOT do that anyway. She will let you know

ME

: You are not helping

JENN

: Ha! And I just am glad you want the help. If you were actually trying to avoid Miss Manning, I'd have to get you a CT scan

Go back to whomever that guy is who is chasing you, Jenn. She had told me about him a week or so ago. She had probably caught him by now.

I looked for Poppy and saw her standing with a group of kids our age. They had been playing paddle ball in the surf, but they seemed to have paused their game to meet Poppy. Almost all of them were guys. I did not blame them for shifting their attention.