Steven awoke to the sound of crashing waves complemented with a brisk breeze flowing through the glass louvers. It was vacation time for him and his wife and they were spending the week in Hawaii. He felt a twinge below–his cock yearned for attention. His hand found its way under his boxers and gave it a quick tug; it felt great and wanted more. He looked over at his wife who was sleeping soundly. Her breathing was rhythmic. He was glad she was sleeping, despite his arousal. She had been sick for the entire holiday. His hand, still in his boxers, started to stroke his cock. She started coughing and he stopped. He wasn't worried or embarrassed at what he was doing; he just didn't want her to feel bad about their lack of sex on the trip.
It was the last leg of a multi-stop trip that included several cities in Japan. Something she had eaten on her second night in Japan had made her sick and the stomach virus had lingered. Normally, vacations were raucous fuck fests for the couple, but this was not the case. They'd done it one time in Japan–the first morning–and that had been it. He wasn't a heartless bastard. He understood and felt compassion for her, but he also had an insatiable need which he'd supplemented through masturbation. It wasn't working anymore, and the bevy of scantily clad women did not help.
He decided to forego the pleasure, and rolled out of bed. His bones creaking as he stood up and stretched his back. A warm breeze fluttered in from the open shutters. The head of his semi-hard cock rubbed against the fabric of his boxers, sending a pleasurable sensation through his body. He glanced back at his wife again, pulled his dick out, and admired it. His hand wrapped around and he considered rubbing a quick one out. But he decided to wait and ambled to the bathroom for his morning routine.
He emerged feeling relieved. He'd read an article about Sea Life Park and brushed his teeth to get rid of his morning breath. His wife was still asleep and would be for a few hours so he decided to do what he'd gone there to do, and relax at the beach. After donning his swimsuit, he grabbed a large, colorful beach towel and headed out the door with the intent to laze away the morning, or perhaps the entire day, on the sand. As he closed the gate, he glanced down the small road toward the beach and noticed a woman in a chartreuse bikini walking toward the beach access. She had a towel over her shoulder and her phone in her hand. His eyes locked on her form as she sauntered down the paved road toward the narrow, tree-lined beach access. He liked the way her ass looked in the bikini bottom so he sped up to get closer.
His eyes soaked in the view as he stepped out onto the white sand of the beach. Shades of green and blue danced on the horizon as the waves crashed down onto the sand with a roar. The sky was as blue as blue could get punctuated by thick fluffy cotton-like clouds. Palm trees swayed in the wind. In the distance sat Rabbit Island. To his liking, the beach was deserted. Not too far from the access, the woman was bent over, laying out her towel. The heat inside of his chest was beginning to build; his cock twitched again.
Not wanting to be too obvious, he set his towel further down, but close enough to be able to glance at her. She put on suntan lotion and tied her auburn hair back, then sat down on her towel, watching the surf. Not thin by society's standards, he found her curvaceous form rather appealing. She had large breasts held up with a small bikini top. As she got up and removed her sunglasses, he strained his eyes, his libido yearning to see the subtle outline of her nipples, or the indentation of her labia. His blood was boiling; he was highly incensed, almost uncontrollably so. He knew this was from a lack of sex with another person, but it was almost disconcerting how this woman was affecting him.
He decided follow suit and headed into the surf. The water was warm and felt good on his feet and legs. Thanks to a tropical storm to the south, the waves were voracious and resulted in knocking him around. It felt good to frolic in the ocean as if he was a child again. His head swarmed with memories of doing the same many years before with his parents. Back then he was afraid of sharks but now all he was concerned with was stealing quick glances at her while she waded into the waist-high shallows.
After a while, he had had enough and slogged out of the waves. He looked for the woman, but she was not at her towel. A flash of bright green came from the right and he saw her tumbling in the sand, a large wave having had its way with her. He rushed to her and extended his hand. She grabbed it, obviously having a tough time getting her footing.
"Thanks," she said and walked back to her towel and plopped down.
"No problem; it's rough out there."
"Oh my God, no kidding," she replied with a smile. He quickly studied her form up close, seeing that the cold water had caused her nipples to harden. He initiated some small talk to get to know her better, but more so to linger without suspicion. Each of them were there for the same reason–vacation. She was married also, but he got the impression that her husband was a workaholic. Her comments about him were all negative and tinged with resentful references to emails and conference calls. She added the word "alone" to many of her recounts of what she'd done.
She laid her legs flat and leaned back. Steven's heartbeat increased at the close view of this perfectly curvy body. Underneath his sunglasses, his eyes darted from her face to her chest to her legs. His gaze lingered on the "V" between her legs, covered by her bikini bottoms. She had a tattoo of a rose on her hip. Her toenails were painted pink.
"Just a thin strip of fabric separates me from it," he thought to himself. His cock began to throb as he felt it swell, the head pressing against his swimsuit. Not wanting to show his arousal, he bid her farewell and went to the small shower near the beach access intent on spicing up his masturbatory routine by doing it in public. There were four faucets attached to each face of a tall square wooden post. He set his towel down on a waist-high wall nearby and then turned one of the faucets on.
The cold water hit his chest and cascaded down his body. It felt good to wash away the sand. Someone walked up next to him. He knew whom it was from the chartreuse reflection in the water that had gathered on the smooth sandstone ground. She smiled at him as she set her things down and went to the opposite side of the post, and then turned on her faucet. She flipped her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head.
He could not help but to watch as she leaned her head back, allowing the fresh water to run down her chest. She started with her feet and legs, and then turned to wash her backside off. To his surprise, she reached around back and put two fingers in the top of her bikini bottom and then pulled it out to let the water wash down her ass. His eyes locked on the paler skin and the very top of her butt.
"I need to cum, badly," he thought to himself.
She turned back around and he pretended to resume his washing, which, by then, he was already finished. Then she did something that stopped his breathing–she hooked the front inside of her bikini with two fingers and pulled it out. His eyes trailed down from her navel, past the lighter skin usually covered, and to the top of the patch of her light brown pubic hair.
He quickly looked around to see if anyone else was coming and to his relief no one was. His gaze went back to her as she continued to allow water to run down the front of her bikini. Her head lulled back, as if she was enjoying it. By this time, his cock was at full attention. It formed a tent in the multicolored nylon fabric of his swimming trunks. He reached down, ran his fingers through his own dark brown pubic hair and then gave his cock a quick squeeze as if to let it know that he would tend to it soon enough.
