Chapter 02 – The Bahamas (1983)
Ashly just
couldn't
believe her luck.
The curves and chubbiness that she saw in the self-deprecating mirror every day were now gone, a week after graduation and another week after turning 18. She was happy with her figure, and longed to show it off in cut-off jeans which just barely covered her sweet, round ass; or in a t-shirt tied under her breast, exposing the smooth tummy, the belly button a jewel to every man's eye she passed coming and going around the neighborhood. She marveled at the number of boys and men who stared at her when she went swimming at the pool down the street from her house. Her firm, tender 34DD's stood out, making a shadow over her smooth belly and flat pelvis, the comparison to a figure-8 not lost on one male or female who'd see her lounging to deepen her tan on her perfectly smooth skin. Her luxurious long hair was always a banner as she strode calmly, like a centerfold who didn't know her own beauty until she looked back at all the staring faces she recently passed.
And in passing on the street, wearing cut-off's, a skimpy t-shirt that showed her nipples through the braless material, and long legs soft and firm at the same time, she found him. Actually, he found her. He was in his early 30's, a dark tan and lots of jewelry, and could see she could take him somewhere if he rode her gorgeous looks the way he longed to ride her sweet ass, and the trimmed pussy; he assumed she was trimmed, since the shorts created an indenture against the folds of her pussy, and the lips peeked slightly out from the skimpy cotton panties underneath.
And all he saw was flesh.
His Trams-Am T-bird screeched to a halt and he leaped out of the car through the t-top,
Dukes of Hazzard
style. His Gucci boots hit the ground running, the Sergio Valente jeans, the silk shirt open to mid-chest, showing off his tight ass and muscular pecs and the heavy gold chain, the peace medallion encrusted in rubies and emeralds kept Ashly's eyes busy. His mini-spoon bounced next to the chain as he took two leaping steps, stopping in front of Ashly, smiling broadly, the caps of is teeth and the perfectly combed wings showing off the blue eyes and big, broad confidence behind the tight zipper; or was it a sock?
"You're a goddamned goddess," he said, still smiling broadly, "and you shouldn't be walking."
Ashly was surprised. Other men shouted comments about her body, sometimes making her stop in her Chuck Taylor low quarters, shyly trying to cover her fleshiness almost-bursting out of her skimpy clothing, or she'd blush, wondering if the offers to
suck their throbbing cocks
or
bang her sweet, round titties,
were really valid. But no one ever stopped, and her curiosity grew, until today.
She shifted slowly, her knees crossing each other in her sneakers, her cut-off's showing the disappearance of denim between her thighs, the nipple trying to push past the skimpy blue-ringed t-shirt, tied off under her amazing tits to show her wonderful stomach to the lothario in her path. She smiled a shy smile, her cheek blushing bright red, her eye lashes fluttering sweetly, her demeanor that of an innocent girl. But her mind raced with thoughts transmitting in her sensuous attire that she was more than willing to learn about all life entailed.
It was his charm, his fast-talking and his good looks that got her down to the Bahamas, on the shores in Bimini, wearing a skimpy bikini, watching a young boy with a dark tan holding a reflector as she smiled, lifted her hair, and pressing her elbows next to her breast. It took a day for her to decide, to rush out the door with little more than the clothing on her back, her passport, and some money from her father who hoped she'd have her dreams come true. She let the lothario, who's name she learned was Sam, when the plane was in flight and her impulse had taken her as far as possible continue taking all the pictures his Nikon could hold. Roll after roll of images were shot on their first day on the island. They had come from the US to a small plane in the Bahamas, and down to Bimini.
She posed, letting the water slide down her amazing curves, the skin splendid and curvaceous, the body making every man in range take in an eyeful as a memory for years to come. Sam was trying to follow his own impulses, the shutter snapping time and time again, making Ashly revel in the attention the images would garner on a magazine possibly going around the world in a matter of weeks. He smiled past his sunglasses, holding his camera in the moving tide, and when the crowd moved off, asking Ashly, "Now honey, lose the top."
"Are you joking," she replied. "I didn't come down here for
that kind
of photo shoot."
Sam cooed: "Ashly, you're gonna cover your breast with your hands. It's a cheesecake shot. It looks sexy but there's no sex involved. Same as the bottom: when we're closer to the rocks, the spray and water will cover your skin and pubes but nothing will show. I promise."
Despite the sun, Ashly's blushing was evident to the photographer. She smiled the same shy smile that drew him to her on the street, and said softly, "I shaved most of my pussy smooth so the dark hairs wouldn't stick out of the bottom."
"Toss the top in the air when the waves hit you. But let's get behind those rocks. The kid with the reflector won't care."
