Dressed in my swim trunks—a pair of Olebar Brown board shorts with a hem that lands a few inches above the knee—a linen shirt, and a pair of Soludos, I packed up my car, an Audi R8 convertible that I kept locked in the garage attached to my building—am indulgence that only really saw the light of day when the urge for a road trip would hit me. Admittedly, having a car in the city was a luxury, but on days like today, when the sun is shining and the air is warm, the little convertible was a luxury I was glad to afford.
I whizzed through the early morning Brooklyn streets devoid of traffic during these pre-breakfast hours. I passed new coffee shops, boutiques, and bars where the workers were still sweeping up from Friday night's festivities. On every block it seemed a new hip business had sprouted up over night. I had heard that old Italian men still played bocce in Carrol Gardens on mornings like these, but as a flew down Flatbush Ave, the signs of Old Brooklyn were few and far between. At least Junior's was still there.
I turned down DeKalb, zipping past the elegant Brownstones that line Ft. Greene Park, and headed towards the address Sofia had texted me the night before. I turned left on Washington Ave and pulled up in front of an old Brownstone, not as elegant as the ones I had passed earlier—a little run down perhaps, but nevertheless stately and filled with character. I knocked on the door and an elderly woman dressed in a floral housecoat, with her hair in rollers came to the door.
"Ohhhh!" she exclaimed with the type of wonder that is reserved for old people who seem to have reached point in life where somehow everything and nothing are both surprises. "You must be the boy Sofia was telling me about. My my... you're even more handsome than I thought!"
Blushing: "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I didn't mean to disturb you so early in the morning."
"Nonsense, sweetie," she replied in a warm tone. "At my age, I'm lucky of can sleep at all. I've been up for hours."
Just then, Sofia appeared bouncing down the steps. She was a vision, more beautiful than I had remembered. Her white tunic reached mid thigh, covering her curves, yet clinging just enough to allude to all her slopes and valleys. Her tan skin contrasted nicely with the light fabric. She wore a wide straw hat and pair of oversized 1970's style sunglasses with hexagon frames. A pair of stacked espadrille wedge sandals and a large wicker tote completed her ensemble. In her hands were two cups of coffee. As she reached the bottom of the steps she gave me a quick friendly kiss.
"Hi silly," she smiled. "Here... I made you café solo, like we drink in my country."
"Beautiful and thoughtful," I smiled, taking the cup from her. The brown liquid inside was thick and bitter, more like an espresso capped with a small amount of foam. "Mmm... delicious."
I stood by the passenger side of the car as she backed into the low seat; her long tan legs swinging around allowing me shut the door behind her. I took my seat, pressed the ignition button, and we were off. Top down, we coasted along Flatbush towards the Marine Park bridge, the wind in our faces, Sofia hanging onto her hat, her flimsy tunic fluttering in the breeze. As we drove along Prospect Park, Sofia told me about her week and her classes all the while my hand resting on her bare thigh. Further down Flatbush Ave we passed by African and Caribbean storefronts, the smell of spices lingering in the air.
"Mmmmm... I love it here," Sofia exclaimed as she took in the sights and sounds. "So many colors, so many interesting people, so many cultures—it's so vibrant!"
Seeing her happy made me happy. We continued south, occasionally stopping at lights and hitting small pockets of traffic along the way. It was now getting close to 10am and the streets were filled with all the usual suspects that made driving down Flatbush through the heart of Brooklyn such a distinct pleasure—gypsy vans darting through traffic, delivery trucks double parked, and city busses that would pull away from the curb with little regard for who or what was around them.
As we reached the bridge to the Rockaway peninsula I decided to test the waters, even before reaching the beach. My hand, which had been resting on Sofia's thigh the whole ride crept higher up her leg and under the hem of her summer tunic, my knuckles grazing against the warm fabric of her bikini bottoms. Sofia responded by sinking further in the bucket seat and allowing her legs to drift apart slightly. I followed her encouraging lead and stroked the front of her swimsuit, feeling her plump lips as the pushed against the stretchy fabric. Eyes still on the road, I pulled the fabric aside so I could access her folds. She was already wet—in fact, as far as I knew so far, Sofia was always wet—and I let my middle finger slide between her soft petals. I felt Sofia's hand on top of mine as she helped guide my middle finger into her hot, hungry pussy. "God," I thought. "Her appetite is insatiable.
With the wind blowing I couldn't actually hear her reactions, but I could feel her open up to accommodate me signaling her enjoyment, holding my hand as she helped me fuck her with my finger. I watched her biting her lower lip in my peripheral vision. I was growing hard in my trunks, the outline obvious through the thin fabric. I wanted to pull over and fuck Sofia right there on the side of the road, but there were other cars around and so we would just have to continue playing games until we reached the beach. Before Sofia had a chance to orgasm, I removed my finger and brought it to my lips. Her taste immediately flooded my senses and sparked memories of last weeks' intense escapades.
"Why did you stop?" She pouted.
"Don't worry, beautiful. I'm sure we'll have a chance to finish soon enough."
Moments later we Reached Fort Tilden beach—a more secluded cove popular with Williamsburg hipsters due to the lax clothing optional policy practiced there. Technically, a woman is allowed to be topless in NYC anywhere a man can, but there were few places where women actually took advantage of this. Fort Tilden was the rare exception.
We gathered our things and headed out on the hot summer sand looking for a place to set up our camp. At 10:30, the beach wasn't exactly packed, but there were already a healthy amount of young people there so it took us a minute to find an open space. Tattooed bodies in all states of undress were abound as we meandered a bit further down the shoreline, finally laying out the blanket I brought, staking claim to a nice patch of sand not far from the water.
I stepped out of my shoes and began unbuttoning my shirt while I watched Sofia stretch and lift her white tunic over her head. The suggestive curves that had been merely hinted at were now on full display barely covered by her sparse lime green bikini. In fact, calling it a bikini would be generous considering the small green triangles of stretchy fabric strained to actually cover anything at all. The bottoms were tiny, just big enough to cover her small patch of pubic hair and were only by some miracle able to contain her inner lips, which were clearly visible through the fabric. I would comment on her top as well, but that would be pointless considering that as soon as Sofia removed her tunic, she immediately reached behind herself and pulled the string, untying and discarding the two green triangles. She stood there topless, breasts protruding from her figure in sheer defiance of gravity, as the cool ocean breeze graced her erect nipples.
"God, I love the beach," Sofia extoled. "Don't you?"
Staring at the unimaginably perfect figure in front of me, I nodded. "I couldn't agree more."
Sofia was far from the only topless woman on the beach that day, but I couldn't help shake the feeling that all eyes were on her. Men and women alike stared, trying to comprehend her impossible geometry. My emotions were mixed: on one hand I was proud to act as an accessory to the most striking form on the beach; on the other though, I didn't necessarily like all the attention as I wanted Sofia for myself. Who could blame me?
We lay out on the blanket for a while soaking up the sun. I did my best to banish any jealous thoughts and focused instead on how lucky I was. Mind adrift, the gentle rhythm of the crashing waves punctuated with soaring seagull cries created a serene soundscape, coercing me to sleep.
Twenty minutes passed, before I woke, Sofia next to me, propped on her elbows thumbing through a magazine. We had both developed a sheen of sweat, our bodies glistening in the late morning sun as the rays bounced off our skin. I sat up, rocking my head side to side to crack my stiff neck then raised to my feet to finish my stretch.
"It's hot out here," I observed. "I think I'm gonna go for a swim and cool off. You coming?"
Sofia shut her magazine and looked over her narrow shoulder up at me, a coy grin on her face, "Of course. Sounds like a good idea. Let's go."
We frolicked in the water, making out as the waves rolled by. Sofia braced herself against me, her back against my chest, as she prepared for an approaching wave. I instinctively wrapped my hands around her tiny waist pulling her closer, my dormant dick now nesting in the valley between the soft spheres of her barely covered backside. As the wave crashed on us we jumped together to keep our heads above water; it's buoyant force rendering us practically weightless.
The salty air filled our lungs as our hands explored each other's bodies under the cover of the dark green Atlantic. Her hands reached back and moved along my thighs; my hands first cupping her bare breasts before letting one slip inside the front of her tiny swimsuit bottom. She purred as another wave passed and lifted us off of our feet craning her neck once we landed so that our lips could meet.
With one hand, Sofia lowered the front of my bathing suit and grasped my now partially hard cock, her actions hidden under the water's iridescent surface. She pumped it a few times bringing me to full attention before sliding her swimsuit out of the way and letting me sink into her eager pussy. Her muscles pulled me in and we let the undulating motion of the water rock us with each wave. My hand in her swimsuit searched out her pearl and I caressed and massaged it as she grinded back against me.
"Fuck you feel good," I breathed into her ear. "I've missed being inside you."
"Mmmm... yes baby," she cooed back. "Your dick feels so good."
We fucked in the ocean in full view of everyone on the beach and although, I'd like to think that the Atlantic Ocean's warm July waters provided enough of a blanket to mask our under water ministrations, our passion would have been obvious to anyone who bothered to look in our direction. We continued in a slow, steady rhythm, kissing passionately, letting the water's gentle movements dictate our pace, neither of us racing towards an orgasm. There was no goal to our actions; we merely wanted to enjoy the feeling of floating in water with our bodies locked together.
"Mmmmmm... I could do this forever," I moaned overcome with tranquility and bliss.
"Me too," Sofia answered. "But maybe we should get out of the water and go for a walk. I wouldn't mind fining a quiet place where we can really be alone. Plus, look at my fingers," she teased bring her hand from the water and showing me her raisined digits.
Reluctantly, I let myself slip free of Sofia's warm embrace and tucked my swollen cock back into the constricting confines of my swim trunks. We walked slowly to the shore, gradually emerging from the ocean, allowing enough time for my erection to subside to the point where the outline may have still been obvious, but no longer vulgar.
"I know a place just past the beach we can take a walk to," I suggested while gathering our things. Sofia stuffed her bikini top in her tote and slid her tunic back over her body, her brown puffy nipples blatant and on full view through the thin, white fabric, offering me yet another impossibly sexy view. Each time I looked at her, I fell in love again. It's as if every thing she did, every action she took was designed to further ensnare me.
We hiked towards the remains of Fort Tilden; essentially a series of overgrown sand covered WWII bunkers and hollowed out buildings just off the shore. As kids during summer vacation, we would ride our bikes there and sneak around the area, looking for old bullets in the sand. And, if I recalled correctly, aside from the odd park ranger there were almost never any other people there, especially if you climbed to the top of one of the bunkers.
"Follow me," I guided Sofia, hand in hand along the sandy path, scaling the largest bunker.
"Wow!" Sofia squeezed my hand as she took in the view from the summit. Looking to the north, in the distance we could make out the outline of Manhattan's saw-tooth skyline, the buildings seeming like miniatures from where we stood. And, to the south there was nothing except the endless dark green expanse of the Atlantic.
"It's really beautiful up here, " she said as she leaned in. Her lips found mine and my arms wrapped around her curvaceous physique; my hands gripped her ample ass. We melted into one another, the scent of salty ocean water intermingled with sunscreen, as we kissed. Sofia pressed herself into me, her firm breasts—still covered in white cotton, pushed against my bare chest, her nipples palpable through the delicate material. The blood drained from my body, rushing to my rapidly expanding cock and I was certain Sofia could feel its size against her. She responded by sliding a hand between us, reaching into my already tight fitting swim trunks, and wrapping her fingers around the trunk she found within.
