One wave of crystal blue ocean water after another, came rolling in and then without more than the most gentle of landings, rolled out. Each accompanied by no wind - no rain, only the most occasional sounding of bird, and footstep of jogger. Almost empty, the beach on which those waves crashed was, from the first grain of sand, to the last. In fact, for yards in the hundreds, there were only two: Ronaldo and Jasmine, a couple who had sought that particular cove out, not just for its beauty, but also its obscurity-born privacy. In those two expectations, it was perfect. A veritable dreamscape of color and sound, left mostly untouched and unoccupied, as if it had been dug out from rock, and shaped by the maker for they two, and they two alone. Or at least that's how Jasmine thought of it.
In much the same way she saw every other happening in her life as of late, that moment, and that beach itself, were simply another thread to be woven into a romantic tapestry Jasmine had begun when first she met her precious Ronaldo. He was perfect. Handsome. Fit. Funny. Loving. Kind. All and every. Her soulmate with not a single hesitation. Oh, how she loved him. Her every thought findings itself a mere hop skip and a jump away from their eternity together: children, marriage, retirement, old age. And though those plans ran on endless loop through her mind, she had but one worry. For Ronaldo had been the property of another woman when first they met. And though it took time and effort - guile and daring, Jasmine finally overcame his resistance and hers, in the end wooing her Latino romeo and taking him as her own.
In that victory, however, she began to find only dread. For if he left another for her, how was she to know he would not, in similar fashion, leave she who stole him for any other thief who might come along? Yes, she had all that he wanted: a thick toned ass, large tits, a thin waistline, with perfectly-kept tight-curled hair, but was it enough? Would it always be? No sooner had such thoughts crept back into the caramel-skinned Latina's mind, than did an unexpected shadow pass before her eyes. There, the figure laid down an oversized beach towel, and lowered herself onto it, not feet from Jasmine and her boo, despite nearly a mile of open beach from which to choose. The figure was a woman's. A beautiful black woman's, thick, toned, and busty just like Jasmine's, hidden only by the most insubstantial of bikinis, covering nipples, and kitten, but not much else. She had placed herself just under, and neatly between the couple, so that were she to scootch herself back up the beach, she would find herself tucked tightly between them.
The gall! The nerve! How dare this bitch! Jasmine had not moved, or spoken, and yet despite her silence, she was enraged. Fuming. There was literally zero chance this girl wasn't trying to draw the eye of Ronaldo. Why would she place herself so close when they were surrounded by open beach? And why between them? AAarrrggghh! As tempest and tumult swirled and stormed within the brunette, the invading girl began to stretch and pose herself, at angles which would give Ronaldo the best view of her assets. Jasmine in terror looked to her lover, hoping to see him looking at his phone, or resting his eyes, and though it was the latter activity he was undertaking, it was upon the chocolate-skinned doppleganger that his eyes rested. Up and down they traveled her body, taking in every muscle and mound - every crevice and curve, his tongue licking his lips all the while.
It was every one of Jasmine's nightmares and fears made manifest. The young Latina's dream moment of relaxation and warmth ruined by some bitch in the middle of nowhere. She wanted to attack! To strike! To release her fury, but she knew not how with Ronaldo there. If a fight broke out, he would break it up, and feel nothing but sympathy for the skank. If she said something, he would in defense deny that she had caught his eye, and try to spin her actions as something else entirely to save his own skin. No, she had to get rid of him, so she could handle this girl alone. But how?
Just as she began to ask herself the question, the black beauty sat up, and stood, using the most intentionally drawn out, and sexual of motions she could. Once vertical, the shaded seductress winked at Renaldo, and began to walk back up the beach towards the small dressing boxes, and vending machines that sat between the beach and the adjacent parking lot. One might think that the girl's decision to leave would calm Jasmine, but since she left her towel, the Latina knew the respite was only a temporary one, and that after the girl finished whatever she was doing, she would return. One moment passed, then two, as thoughts and plans began to take shape in Jasmine's mind.
"Honey, I'll be right back, ok?" The Latina said simply, in the most innocent voice she could muster."
"Where you goin', huh?" Asked her companion, confused by the sudden departure of not just one, but now both of the women with whom he occupied the empty span of beach.
"I'm gonna get a drink. You want one?" The brunette responded, finding herself unable to come up with a better explanation as to why she needed to follow after her chocolate doppelgänger.
"Yeah, a Coke. But hurry, this whole lying on a beach thing is your flavor, not mine." He responded impatiently.
