Cheaters Try To Prosper
by InsertHere ©
Disclaimer: The following is a piece of fiction. Fiction (in case you don't know) means it's made up, not real, a bunch of lies. The characters in the story are all fictional too, meaning they don't exist. While non-existent, if they existed and had an age they would be over 18.
Furthermore, since the characters aren't real they can't possibly be harmed by the stuff they do or that happens to them in the story. This would not be true in reality, meaning you should not think you can do the same things safely, legally, or ethically in real life. Just because bullets bounce off Superman (he's fictional) that doesn't mean they're going to bounce off you, got it? If you believe that the things fictional characters do in a pornographic story are a valid guide to behavior in the real world, then you have much bigger psychological problems than a story could ever cause and you should stop reading this and seek medical help immediately.)
Celine lay on the beach, the hot sand warming her through the beach blanket. Despite it's scantiness (most of her breasts and all of her buttocks being exposed to the sun) the swimsuit she wore was extremely expensive, though it had cost only a pittance compared to the gold and ruby earrings she wore, not to mention the enormous diamond on her ring finger.
The resort was severely exclusive so there were few others on the beach with her. Despite this a young man in board shorts came walking along the shore. Spotting Celine looking at him through her dark sunglasses he smiled and made a beeline for her.
"Hot day," he observed.
Celine shrugged. "I understand it often is here on Bora Bora."
"True," he said cheerfully. "And the sun can really do a number on your skin. I hope you're wearing enough sunscreen."
"Perhaps I want a tan."
He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Bad idea. Sun damage can lead to premature aging. Beautiful skin like yours should be properly cherished."
Celine lifted an eyebrow. "I suppose you have a solution."
"Well, I could help you apply more sunscreen. Just as a friendly gesture."
She kept her expression neutral but gazed at him intently through the dark glasses. Aside from board shorts and sandals (leather, clearly high-end Italian) the only thing he wore was a heavy gold class ring from Yale. He was of medium height and his lithe swimmer's body was in excellent shape, clearly the result of daily workouts. He was certainly years younger than her, though not so much younger she could be his mother. The gleaming smile looked far too perfect to be anything but the product of an expert orthodontist.
"Why not?' she said, lowering herself onto the towel and rolling onto her front. "There's a bottle in my bag."
She closed her eyes, not worried in the least that her wallet was in the bag as well. A moment later two strong oily hands began giving her a backrub.
It was definitely a massage. He kneaded and stroked her skin far more than it would have taken merely to apply a layer of suntan oil. Celine sighed as clever hands worked magic.
After a while his hands drifted downward. Since her rear cheeks were largely exposed and thus vulnerable to the sun he had the perfect excuse to fondle her curvy bottom, and took full advantage of this. Celine didn't object, not even when venturesome fingers traced their way into her rear cleft and smeared oil to within a nail's breath of her barely concealed backdoor.
Despite this he didn't try to get under her swimsuit, instead proceeding down her thighs, legs, and calves. Celine sighed heavily. He did have very good hands.
"Turn over, I'll get your front," he said. He was breathing a little hard, she noticed. Good, she'd hate to think this wasn't turning him on at least as much as it was her.
Celine flipped over as instructed. He worked his way up this time, starting from her feet. She had to gasp a little as the hands rubbed her inner thighs and just-slightly-rounded belly. He grinned down at her and concentrated on stroking areas that caused her to react.
By the time he got to her breasts any pretense this wasn't sexual had vanished. His hands kneaded her firm tits, pressing them together then pushing them apart. Oiled fingers slid under the edge of the fabric to tease rapidly-hardening nipples.
Celine caught at his wrists. "We can't. Not in public."
He kept rubbing her tits, hampered only slightly by her grip. "Your suite comes with a cabana, doesn't it? Probably that one right behind you."
Celine considered this briefly. "No, I don't like doing it on the beach. Sand gets into all the sensitive spots."
"How about in the water, then? No one will see us out there."
She gave a little snort. "Have you ever done it like that? Salt water washes away all the lubrication pretty quick. It can get painful for a girl."
"Then I guess we better head for your suite."
She pushed his hands away and lifted herself up on an elbow. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"
He grinned again. "Yeah, I guess so. Shouldn't I be?"
Celine snorted. "You Ivy League boys are all alike, think you're God's gift."
He chuckled. "Aww, don't be like that. I'm just trying to make your day less boring."
She rolled her eyes. "I should get a little bit of a tan, you know. If I don't come back with one people will wonder what I was doing at a beach resort."
"They'll undoubtedly assume you were doing what most women do on their honeymoon, Mrs. Carver."
"Most women on their honeymoon do that sort of thing with their husbands," Celine pointed out.
