When she awoke, Cassandra laid naked, wrapped in an extra large white beach towel that struggled to cover her huge, proud breasts. An unfamiliar woman told her that she was severely dehydrated before asking how she felt. Cass answered groggily and honestly, "My butt hurts."
Sitting up, she felt the abundant, dry, and crusty cum on her body crinkle. Then she noticed that her left wrist was tethered to the plastic board they'd laid her on. Cass furrowed her brow and squinted into the sun to see two lifeguards and a couple of apparently vacationing nurses standing over her.
One of the nurses beckoned another blurry figure who stepped closer and introduced himself with a husky voice. "Good day, I'm Officer Bruski. How are ya feelin', ma'am?"
Upon noticing his police uniform and salt-and-pepper mustache, Cass realized she was trapped.
"Um, I'm all right. I guess," she said, fidgeting as she spoke.
She tried to remind her befuddled self of all that had happened so she might think of convincing lies to escape the aftermath. It all seemed like a wild dream, though, and if it weren't for the pulsing pain in her ass she might have believed it had simply been her imagination.
"You and some German fella created a real stir in that concession stand over there," He pointed at the small building which sat about forty yards away. "You remember that?"
"Uhh... kind of," she bluffed, looking away and rubbing her neck with her free hand before bluntly asking, "Why am I tied to this thing?"
"Just for yer safety, ma'am. Witnesses said you seemed dazed and confused, possibly even concussed. When the owner opened that shutter, said you ran right out of there like a cockroach goin' under the fridge when the lights come on," he laughed. Then, seeing the baffled look on her face, he added, "Sure yer feelin' all right, ma'am? Could ya tell me what happened with you and that skinny German fella?"
"Well, uh," she fumbled for a convincing half-truth to pass along and started it with, "I was naked."
"You were naked when ya went in there?" He eyed the bulge of the blonde's big, perky balloon tits under the beach towel.
"Yes, because he stole my top and my shorts and threw them in the waves!" The words that came from her mouth surprised her.
"He stole your clothes?"
"Yes, he did. And he told me he wouldn't give them back unless he could lick whipped cream off my butt and then he pointed at that food stand!" Cass pointed, her heart rate increasing with every disingenuous word.
"Hm," he seemed incredulous, "really? And did you two know each other before this?"
"No! He just took them and threw them and got in my face! He told me to call him Santa Claus and sit on his lap!" More wild details makes it more convincing, she told herself. "He kept calling me a 'naughty girl' with that gross accent of his," she shuddered.
"Santa Claus, huh? Well, I can tell you, ma'am, that this fella is on his way to the police department right now for indecent exposure, public fornication, trespassing, vandalism, expired visa and petty theft. Are you telling me that you'd like to press charges on him for sexual assault as well? That is a very serious accusation, ma'am."
"I'm - I'm not sure," she let her voice crack and tried but failed to summon some tears to her dehydrated eyes, "can - can I think about it, sir? Everything just happened so fast..."
"Of course you can, ma'am. Here, take my card - well, just a moment," he seemed to just then realize she didn't have any clothes or pockets to put it in. "Could I write my number on your arm, instead?" He pulled out a pen.
"Sure," she thrust out her right arm and he scribbled on it in black ink.
"Oh, and I'll need your name, number, and address too, ma'am. For my report."
"Oh, um, of course!" Cass hesitated then lied again, "My name is... Samantha Jones and... I just got a new phone so I'm not totally sure the number but it's something like 877-3950. And, yeah, I'm staying at 55 Beach Club Lane."
"I could give you a ride home, if you like, ma'am." Cass shook her head. "All right, well, thank you very much for your cooperation, Ms. Jones. I'm glad you're feeling fine after this whole... ordeal." He loosened the thin rope tying her to the board, continuing, "and please give us a call as soon as you've, well, cleaned yourself up a bit and gotten some rest."
"Thank you, Officer."
Cassandra wasted no time jumping to her feet and tightly wrapping herself in the large, borrowed beach towel. The sooner she left, the fewer questions she'd have to answer, she decided. Her golden hair, swayed long, loose, and coated in the dried remains of both salty seawater and semen as she swiftly strode away from the crime scene.
Eyes, questions, and pointing fingers followed her across the white sand beach, but within two minutes of steady speed-walking, she had escaped the rubbernecking crowd.
The walk home passed quickly as the day's events replayed in her head. As she walked, every bounce of her breasts and sway of her hips brought back a thought of Antonio or Klaus or even her husband. She wondered what sort of welcome he had awaiting her at home.
When she made it back, Cassandra found their beach house as beautiful and imposing as ever. Passing between marble pillars as she ascended the front stairs, Cass looked upon the replica Statue of David and hung her head in pity for the Roman women who thought that little penis was enough.
