The girl on the beach was walking away from me when I first noticed her. Hard not to be drawn to firm young tanned hips shifting asymmetrically as each foot found uneven purchase in the sand. Her ass looked like two kittens wrestling in a sack. Though there was no sack - just a faint hint of neon green thong back strap peeking out of the deep crevice between those teacup taut globes.
She was topless of course, like almost every woman on the beach from six months to sixty plus years old -- no matching top strap marred the rich copper tan of her skin as I finally rolled my eyes up to appreciate the rest of her beauty. Her thick black hair flowed in thick waves, falling just between her shoulder blades.
"Not just another bleached blonde," I heard myself mutter, realizing at once that I was already wondering if the pubic hair matched. Though she had the look, even from behind, of a woman who shaved her pubes.
"Not that it matters, because she's walking away, you'll never see her again," my more sensible side insisted.
Regardless, I was glad that I was wearing baggy swim shorts as I reclined in my lounge chair. I could feel my organ throbbing, blood surging to my groin as I became turgid. I sipped my drink, wishing that I was twenty years younger, and that I had six pack abs -- then maybe I could take a shot at someone like that without looking ridiculous. Though I suppose I looked ridiculous enough, my round hairy belly thrusting up where my silly brightly coloured print shirt hung open, my impossibly skinny legs and knobby knees jutting out of the shorts, flip flops on my feet. My wrap around sun glasses and straw fedora completed my middle aged geeky tourist on the beach disguise. Except, that was the real me.
Having never married, childless, I had a good income, having switched from accounting to computers to consulting as each trend crested. I had recently sold everything, and this resort destination was the first stop of my intended year long around the world journey of exploration. My family and friends had joked that I was going abroad to "find myself". The busybodies all counselled looking close to home. To them I had replied "I no longer have a home."
That had provoked reactions ranging from nervous laughter to jokes about "becoming truly zen" to suggestions that I seek psychiatric help. I smiled, winked, put my few worldly treasures in storage in my brother's basement, and caught the next plane to paradise.
I had not booked an itinerary. I had the means to stay as long as I wanted at any spot, or to move on as often as I wished, so would pick my next destination when I got bored.
"Well, she sure didn't look boring," I said to myself. I had noticed that after decades of living alone I had a habit of muttering my thoughts aloud. "Not that it matters, she's already gone." I must have dozed off after the girl passed, because the next thing I remember was opening my eyes to see her walking back from the other direction, a sarong now tied low on one hip, sipping a fruity umbrella drink. Each alternate step flashed her tanned and toned right thigh out the flap of the covering, and then it slid tantalizingly into hiding.
My cock, which had turned flaccid while I dozed, throbbed and twitched its appreciation of her muscular beauty. I resisted the urge to pat it and say "Down, boy."
She was maybe one hundred feet to my left when she suddenly smiled. Her lips pulled wide, her jaw relaxed; her perfect white teeth caught the sun. Though she was still too far away to know for sure, I was sure that her eyes were dancing brightly with genuine excitement.
As I turned my gaze to see who was provoking this joy, I realized that I had not even checked out her tits. Toplessness was so prevalent that my natural voyeurism was adapting already. I made a mental note to correct my omission as soon as I saw what had attracted her attention, even as I felt the sinking sensation that no doubt she had spotted her husband, boyfriend, or some random guy more age and fitness appropriate than me.
My heart revived, pumping faster, when I saw that her smile seemed to be directed at a small knot of young adults who looked to be about her age -- twentyish, was my guess. In particular, one tiny blonde with fair skin and perky A cup tits crowned by giant pink nipples was waving at the girl I had noticed. Others in the group held a volleyball, a net, and support posts.
'My Girl', as I thought of her, quickly ran across the hot sand to where the others were setting up the game. This gave me the perfect opportunity to note that her breasts were just a size bigger than her blonde chum's, enough flesh to bounce lightly as she moved, but to remain upright even when braless. Her nipples, like her hair, were darker than her friend's - a rusty brown -- and poked aggressively out from oversized areolae which seemed to cover half of each breast.
She passed right in front of me, untying her wrap as she moved, allowing me a close up appreciation of how her firm tanned thighs moved. Her sarong fluttered to the sand as she wasted no time joining the game, pausing only long enough to give her gal pal a quick hug, nipples brushing quickly. I was not near enough to tell for sure, but got the impression that both pairs of nubbins perked up even more after touching.
The game moved quickly -- one guy and two girls on each side of the net. The other two women were about as cute as the blonde, but less memorable - both with mousy brown hair, full bikini bottoms, slightly pear shaped with wider hips than shoulders. One wore a top, long hair pinned up. Her skin was so pale she had to be new to the resort. Perhaps she was afraid of burning her enormous breasts. Her pal was built more boyishly, flat chest sporting pale red nipples, hair cut short, shaved asymmetrically on one side.
All the players were obviously athletic, and the rallies could have lasted until evening but for the interjection of dramatic spikes and leaping blocks at the net. I got a brief flash of the bosomy brunette's boob as it flopped free when she lunged to make a save. After that happen a few times, she got tired of shaking sand out of her top, and with a giggling comment removed the fabric and tossed it aside. I heard one of the young men laughingly offer to lotion up her freshly exposed flesh.
As nubile as the brunette was, she did not have nearly as much impact on the increasing turgidity of my cock as when my raven haired girl spilled onto the sand, unsuccessfully diving for the ball. She bounced right back up and took a moment to brush sand off herself while one of the boyish men chased after the ball. She shook out her hair, stroked her thighs, and flicked debris from the valley of her tits so quickly that if I had blinked I would have missed it. Fortunately, she had my full attention; my eyes wide open behind my shades.
I sipped my drink and glanced away as she settled into position for the next point, forcing myself to watch as some fat older woman collapsed an overtaxed lounge chair. Even that diversion did nothing to reduce the almost total hardness of my cock. It begged me to caress myself, the devil in my brain whispering that anybody watching could see my excitement anyway.
"Yes, but why draw attention to it?" I reasoned with myself. "No one is going to notice me when there's so much beautiful flesh on display.
I smiled, pleased with my reasoning and sipped more of my drink. My cock still begged for my touch, pleading to be released, daring me to stroke it right there on the beach. Even looking at the fat old women no longer was abating its urgent throbbing. I drank more; half dozed, knowing that I could relieve this pressure later, by reliving the moments unfolding before me.
The game continued. All six players were obviously competitive athletes, each point was hard fought, and the giggling fun soon gave way to intense concentration. The boyish looking brunette was the best player, nailing every serve. Though not tall enough to block effectively, she made many saves and set up her taller team mate's spikes. Her casual grace as she moved reminded me of how much I had enjoyed being the score keeper for girls' volleyball in middle school. Her underdeveloped body was probably much like those of my classmates, except the youngsters who had caused my adolescent involuntary erections had been clad in baggy gym suits, and she left nothing to the imagination. And here I was, thirty years later, still just as horny and confused.
Sand clung to the brunette's skin even more often than to my raven haired beauty, but I noticed that the more serious competitor simply ignored it most of the time, even when she bounced up from the ground with grains clinging to her erect long nipples. She only touched herself when her boy short style bottoms were shoved down so low that almost her entire ass crack was visible. First, she pulled the fabric up, snapping back into place where the almost imperceptible curve of her ass met her spine. One rally later though, she asked for time out. The sound of her saying "Sand in the crotch," together with her friends giggling, travelled along the beach to my ears.
So next she tugged the top front of the shorts away from her washboard abs and bounced. Apparently, this did not work well enough, because with another burst of laughter, she yanked each leg hole away from well muscled inner thighs. Her fingers extended up under the fabric, twirling quickly. In my fevered imagination, I wished that it was her clit she was diddling, not just stray grains of sand. I did notice that her nipples seemed even longer at that point, and were encrusted with bits of the beach. Almost as if I had willed it, she reached up and brushed her chest where her tits should have been, her palms casually making the nubbins bobble, the dirt falling to the ground. Just as quickly as she started, she was once again bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready for the next serve.
I was afraid that my cock would pop right out of my shorts. At the same time, I felt guilty about diverting my attention away from my original girl. Tearing my eyes off the brunette, I refocused on the dark haired beauty. She was giggling like her friends, arms hanging loose by her hips, feet spread in a relaxed position, ready for anything.
"Not quite anything. She's not ready to fuck a fat old nerd," my common sense silently reminded me.
"Shut up," I mumbled allowed. "I'm not really fat; I just have a bit of a belly."
After all, my legs were still as spindly as they were in high school, and my ass still had dimples. How pathetic is that -- a middle aged guy checking out his own butt in mirrors, because no one else did. Not that it mattered much with my baggy swim shorts.
The self deprecation might have caused my hardness to soften, except fortunately the volleyball game resumed, and almost immediately "my" girl took her turn to spill in the sand and bounce back up, bits of the beach coating her tanned flesh, and reflecting sun off her dense mane of hair. She leaned forward, giving me, and hundreds of other onlookers, a perfect view of those firm tits dangling earthward, sand covered nipples begging to be rubbed clean.
