This is the ninth story.
This is the story of Ariel.
It was the height of summer, the sky cloudless and bright, and some guy friends and I were out in Playa for a beach day. We alternated lying around with various physical activities, tumbling around in the sand with a football and a frisbee, frequently dipping into a cooler of Bud Lights and White Claws.
At a certain point we all tracked that a gorgeous group of girls had set up towels near us, and a lot of peacockery ensued, each guy trying to subtly establish through loud noises and garish behavior that he was the guy. I caught the girls looking over, amused yet not completely uninterested, and I decided to do something about it. I walked over to them.
"Hey!" I said.
"Hi!" a chorus responded.
There were five of them, a range of blondes and brunettes, laid out straight on a row of towels. They were all tan and beautiful, with stunning bodies, like a field trip of Instagram models. They all rose onto their elbows and looked up at me.
"Not sure you've noticed," I said, "but all my friends have been trying to get your attention."
"We've noticed," one of the girls said. The others laughed.
"Not exactly subtle, I know," I said. "The only guys you can see from space."
The girls laughed again.
"I'm Jack," I said, and extended my hand down to the leftmost girl.
They each smiled and took my hand in turn, introducing themselves.
Sarah, Liz, Jessica, Kayleigh, and...Ariel.
The girls were all beautiful, but in my eyes Ariel took the cake. Short platinum blonde hair, pulled back in a ponytail, showing dark roots. She looked like she was from somewhere on the eastern Mediterranean, with hooded, piercing eyes over sharp cheekbones and full lips, somewhere on the spectrum between Gigi Hadid and Hailey Bieber. She had small breasts, a skinny torso, nice hips, and a pair of stunning legs. Her bikini was nickelodeon - red and skimpy - leaving very little to my already powerful imagination.
"We've got White Claws," I said. "Any interest?"
The girls all exchanged looks, their expressions already saying "sure, why not?" Then they looked up at me and said:
"Sure, why not?"
I went back to our cooler, grabbed five White Claws, the guys asking me about the girls in hushed tones.
"What are their names?" "Are they single?" "Do they wanna hang out?"
I walked back to the girls, saying over my shoulder:
"Ask them yourselves."
I handed out the drinks, getting to Ariel last. As the can passed between us we shared a smile and I gave her a small wink. The other guys shuffled over behind me, and our two groups officially merged.
I made sure to chat up Ariel immediately, to stake my proverbial claim. She was twenty-two, eight years younger than me. We didn't have too much in common, but she had an engaging smile, a steady way of speaking, and a tendency to hold eye contact that differentiated her from the other women, made her seem more mature, sexier. She was trying to be a makeup and beauty influencer, at one point showing me her Instagram. To be honest I think she looked substantially better in real life, much more naturally beautiful offline, stripped of the garish makeup she was often promoting.
When I told her about my career, she perked up, seemed immediately interested. I got the sense she wasn't turned on by me being an artist, by me maybe having something unique to say with my work, but instead by me maybe having some clout, that I may be rubbing shoulders with famous people. It wasn't my favorite quality in a woman, but when she looks like Ariel and you think you'd really enjoy fucking her, you learn to overlook it. We talked and laughed for a good while, everyone else in our group forgotten.
I'm glad my friends made a good impression, because we then found out that the girls had an Airbnb nearby, rented for the weekend, and we were invited back to hang out with them. We gathered our stuff, left the beach, and walked less than a block before we arrived at their place.
I don't know who in the group had a lot of money, but someone did, because it was a drop dead gorgeous bungalow. It was three floors, with a bedroom for each girl, topped by a rooftop deck that looked out over the Pacific. The deck had couches, a grill, a fridge, a beer pong table, and a hot tub. We couldn't believe our eyes, nor our luck in ending up with this group.
Someone started playing house music and beer pong kicked off in full force, each guy pairing with a girl, me naturally pairing with Ariel. She was absolutely terrible, but I'm not one to get mad over beer pong, and we had a lot of fun getting run off the table. We started making more physical contact, me putting an arm around her shoulders, her putting a hand on my chest, or an arm across my stomach. And when we lost our first game, we were now free to leave the deck and the others. I asked her if she could show me where the bathroom is.
"There's one in the living room," she said, "but you can use the one in my bedroom. Follow me."
She led me down the stairs back into the bungalow. I watched her tan ass bouncing in front of me, the bikini just a thin red string down her crack. It was cool and quiet inside, all the people and the music reduced to a dull sound above us.
She led me down another flight of stairs to the second floor landing, and through a door. The bedroom was clean and bright, very white, decorated here and there with seashells. A window looked north toward the Santa Monica mountains. Ariel's stuff was piled against a wall, with various bikinis laid out on the bed.
"In there," she said, indicating the ensuite bathroom.
I walked toward it, then heard the bedroom door close. I turned around. Ariel was leaning back against it, looking at me. I smiled, surprised but unfazed, and leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom.
No one said anything. We just stood looking at each other, daring the other to make the first move. The sexual tension was palpable, her gaze steady and intense. My eyes moved down over her body, over her tan skin, over the parts covered, barely, by her bikini. Her small breasts, her pussy. My dick started to swell in my trunks.
She looked down at it, saw the leg of my shorts lifting, bit her lip. Her fingers turned the lock on the handle, click, and she skipped across the room toward me. A foot away she jumped toward me and I caught her, my hands around her waist, holding her easily off the ground, as her hands came to my face and we started making out. Then I lowered her until her toes hit the floor, and she stayed poised on them in order to reach my face. Her crotch pressed up against my trunks, my hard penis pushing out against her leg. I moved my hands down her back and onto her ass, and grabbed handfuls of both cheeks. It was a nice ass, not the biggest, but still good and meaty in my hands.
Her hands were planted on my chest, her full lips pressing into mine. I gripped her butt cheeks, pressing in with my fingers, lifting them up, and she moaned. We stumbled back into the bathroom, tiny, with only a toilet, a sink, and a standing shower. My lower back hit the sink and I leaned back over it, her leaning with me in her excitement, her chest pressing against mine.
She broke off from kissing me, looked up into my eyes, I looked down into hers, a nutty hazel brown.
"Sorry I was so bad at pong," she said, her voice breathy.
"Part of me couldn't care less," I said. "The other part wants you to make it up to me."
She bit her lip, smiled impishly, and one of her hands planted itself on the outside of my shorts, directly on my now very hard cock.
"Like this?"
"Fuck," I said, her hand rubbing up and down it quickly.
