This is the sixteenth story.
This is the story of Mackenzie.
Pretty much everyone who moves to Los Angeles tell themselves they're going to learn to surf. Pretty much none of them do.
I was no different, road tripping out here in my teens with dreams of growing my hair long, shredding the Pacific waves, bedding many beautiful chicks. But I didn't do anything about that dream for about a decade. And then in my late twenties, I did it, I finally did it, I sought out surf lessons.
That's how I met Mackenzie.
I'd signed up for a private lesson through a surf instruction company, and didn't know going in the type of instructor I'd get paired with. I hoped I'd get a beautiful, sun-kissed babe, but knew in all likelihood I'd get some leathery middle-aged dude. I drove out to the beach on a Sunday morning, the marine layer draped over the shore and making everything unseasonably chilly, and I parked in a lot overlooking the beach.
A small van was parked nearby, a girl pulling boards out of the trunk. She was half in a wetsuit, the top pulled down around her waist. She had a swimmer's physique, wide shoulders and a skinny torso, and a healthy rack behind a bikini top. Her hair was dirty blonde, with certain strands bleached light by the sun. She Iooked to my car as I got out. Her face was gorgeous, freckled and with a bit of baby fat, hints of Madelyn Cline. She must've been in her early 20s, 25 at most.
I hoped to God this was my instructor.
We looked at each other in that way you do when you're sizing up if you're supposed to know the other person.
"You waiting on Jack?" I said.
"Yeah!" she said. "I'm Mackenzie."
My mind reached out to a higher power, fell to my knees in front of them, kissed their beautiful feet.
"So," I said, looking out at the tiny waves rolling into shore, "you're the one who's gonna kick my ass today.
She laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Yep."
Her eyes ran up and down my body, I hoped liking what she saw, then she turned and grabbed a wetsuit from the van.
She tossed it to me. "This should fit."
I pulled my t-shirt off, really stretching out my torso as I did so, and tossed it into my car. I then pulled on the wetsuit and, like her, left it wrapped down around my waist. Her eyes lingered briefly on my upper body.
"Miss, you're staring," I said.
She laughed, with no embarrassment at all, and pushed me playfully on the shoulder. "Come on, let's hit the beach."
She handed me a board, grabbed her own, and I followed her down toward the water. I watched her ass moving in her wetsuit, a ripe juicy peach, looked at the shape of her legs.
"How long you been surfing?" I asked.
"Forever," she said.
"Well, try to go easy on this newbie."
She looked back at me and smiled mischievously. "Do you want me to go easy on you?"
"Nah. Fuck me up."
She laughed. "Will do."
And she fucked me right up. She treated surfing like it was the easiest thing in the world if you weren't an absolute coward. We started on the beach, her showing me how to hop up and stand, and then she had me out on the water much quicker than I expected. I spent an hour getting my ass absolutely handed to me, every rousing success followed by a plummet and a stinging smack into the water. But I kept getting back up, kept laughing with every failure, wanting her to see I was a good sport.
At the end of it all I stumbled out of the water and collapsed on my back on the sand, moaning. Something moved in front of the sun and I opened an eye. Mackenzie was standing over me, smiling, her hair hanging wet around her head.
"How you doin'?" she said.
"Absolutely wrecked," I said.
"You did alright. In a not bad way."
I gave her a fatigued thumbs-up.
"But get up, weakling," she said.
She extended a hand down and I groaned as she helped me to my feet, and we carried our boards back up the slope to her van. I watched her strip completely out of her wetsuit, down to just a bikini, looked at her gorgeously proportioned and tanned body reveal itself to me. As I pulled my wetsuit down, it caught against my swim trunks and pulled the waistband down over my crotch, revealing the top half of my dick. Mackenzie's eyes flashed down to it by reflex, and then she quickly looked away toward the water as I readjusted.
"Shit, I'm sorry," she said.
"No, I'm sorry," I said. "Didn't mean to flash you."
"I only saw a little."
She stayed turned away as I got the wetsuit fully off. I folded it up, went up to her and held it out. She turned to me, looked up at me.
"Only a little," I said. "Ouch."
She laughed. "A lot, I mean. A little of a lot."
We stayed there for a second, the first waves of sexual tension starting to crackle between us.
"Same time next week?" I said.
She nodded. "Hell yeah."
"Fuck me up, Mack," I said, raising a hand.
She smiled and high fived me. "Will do."
And I got in my car and drove off.
I spent the whole week looking forward to seeing her again, looking forward to her kicking my ass on the water, to seeing her wetsuit cling to her tight body. I was gonna try to grab breakfast with her afterward, make inroads on seeing her outside of the lessons.
The next Sunday dawned bright and raw, with no marine layer to be seen. I arrived at the same time, and Mackenzie was once again already there, pulling stuff out of her van. I caught her eyes as they flashed to my window, caught her look away quickly, caught her trying to hide a smile.