The blazing sun burns down on the island out of a clear blue sky, and I am walking through the stand of palms, my bare feet avoiding the prickly fronds that have fallen from the trees and are littering the path. At the edge of the grove I pause. The warm trade wind is coming straight in off the sea and caressing my body, and I am wearing my briefest swimsuit, the bikini with the side ties that make me feel up for anything every single time I put it on. In front of me the beach of white powdery sand extends right and left, dazzling in the sun and shelving gently into the lagoon.
Half a mile out is the coral reef and beyond that the deep blue and white surf of the limitless Pacific. A small bank of sand clings to the reef with a solitary palm tree on it and I think that if I can only get out there swimming will be much more adventurous in the breakers than in the quiet clear waters of the lagoon. Along the beach a small boat is pulled up on the sand. I try to move it back into the water, but though I am toned from regular sessions in the gym it doesn't want to stir. I try again. I strain, I gasp but not a movement. And then I suddenly become aware that I have company.
One of my instant girlie assessments, for which I am so famed back home, takes less than five seconds. Male -- check. Around my height -- check. Around my age -- check. Dark hair, brown eyes, white teeth -- check. All he has on is a scruffy pair of sun-bleached denim shorts, brief and frayed at the legs, carelessly exposing a smooth firm body tanned even deeper than my own. Yes, I think to myself, this looks very interesting. With a smile, raised eyebrows and a gesture of his hand he asks if I want to take the boat out on the lagoon. I nod and smile back and point to the sandy islet on the reef.
He motions for me to grip one side of the boat and between the two of us we slide it into the water. I wade in knee-deep, holding the bow into the wind while he swings on board and hauls up a small sail, and as the boat turns and begins to move forward I roll clumsily in over the side and end up in a heap on the bottom, in front of the mast.
I never did have any control over my pussy when I get roused, and right now I can feel it becoming wet and slippery with cum between my thighs and there is a little dark patch on my bikini bottoms. I quickly pull my legs in, knees up to my chin, and then think what the hell and stretch them out again, as far as the other side of the boat will allow. I look up and just catch him as he looks away. But the bulge in his shorts is betraying him, and I am in no doubt at all that he is well aware of the sexual tension that is already building up between us.
Hell, I say to myself again, why not, and I pull the bandeau top up over my head and drop it into the bottom of the boat. Stretching my arms out along the sides I let my head fall back, shutting my eyes against the brilliance of the sun and deliberately displaying myself. I can feel my nipples perking up and I am quite sure that he is looking at me, drinking it all in. Have a good look, I think -- this can all be yours if you play your cards right.
The boat grounds on the islet and as I open my eyes and sit up he jumps out and pulls it up on to the small beach. I stand up, balancing precariously, and he turns to see if I need help. I purposely trip over the side of the boat to see what reaction I am going to get, and he is there as I had hoped, ready to steady me. I fall against him, brush my mouth against his cheek and then quickly back off and turn to walk towards the surf, taking one of his hands in mine and grinning at him to show that there is still plenty for him to play for.
At the water's edge I let go of his hand, point to the waves and make breast-stroke motions, and he immediately shakes his head. Imitating a fish with one hand he makes a triangular gesture over it with his other forefinger and I get his meaning at once. I didn't realise that sharks might come this close inshore.
