Chapter 4
Alan sighed contentedly, closing the last window, and shut down his computer. He stood to stretch.
"Heading out a bit early for the long weekend?" Laurel asked, turning from her screen.
"Yup," Alan said, pushing in his chair. "I've saved up enough hours, so I'd go into overtime if I stayed much later, anyway."
"Yeah, I wish I'd done that. Too many long lunch breaks." She shrugged. Her silky royal blue top, the same that she wore for that day in the mother's lounge, emphasized the gesture nicely. "So, any special plans, then?"
"Well, I don't know how special they are," he said, putting away his water bottle and pushing in his chair, "but I was thinking of hitting the beach some."
"Ah," Laurel smiled. "Well, try to enjoy the sun and surf," she said, and then leaned in and lowered her voice, "you know, in between fucking blonde beach girls."
Alan felt a slight blush. "I think that might be a bit optimistic. I'm not exactly a pickup artist."
"Yeah, that's what I would have thought, too, until a couple months ago," she said. "Nice camera work for Ally, by the way."
Alan froze halfway out of the cubicle. "How did you-" he started, but she only laughed at him, giving a look at his ass, and then turned back to her computer.
Alan stared at her a moment. He'd been so focused on Ally, and how *she* looked on camera, that he didn't even stop to think that thousands and thousands of people online have now gotten a close-up, HD look at his cock. And that one of those people might recognize it.
He wasn't sure what to think about that.
"Try Halia Beach," she called after him. "I hear it's a good spot for hot hook ups."
"Sure, whatever," Alan said, stalking away.
***
Halia Beach was a half hour longer drive than he'd planned for, but as Alan pulled into the clean, freshly painted parking lot and found a spot on the far outside corner, he was already starting to see the advice had been good. Before he'd pulled the key out of of the ignition, he had already stopped at least twice to stare.
The sky was clear except for a few rolling clouds out over the ocean, and the beach of white sand was clean and soft. The water cut a deep blue curve into the white, and it was dotted small, colorful sail boats. The women were toned, tanned, and baring a lot of skin in tight, tiny bikinis.
For once in his life, the sight of the number of men at the beach didn't bother Alan at all. He smiled, grabbed his umbrella and gear in a bag out of the trunk, shucked off his shirt to reveal his nicely toned (but very pale) chest, and headed for the beachhead.
He had taken a few steps onto the parking lot when he turned to see a large, silver truck coming his way. He paused, watching as it as it approached. He kept expecting it to slow, or stop with him right in its path, but it just kept bearing down on him. The driver was invisible between the glare and the tinted windows. Tensing, he took two quick, leaping steps backward and shouted, "Hey!"
Alan was able to catch a flash of long, blonde hair as the driver's head whipped around, and the truck screeched to a halt. It was a bare stride from turning Alan into a trauma case. There was a frozen moment while he and the driver stared at each other in shock.
Then she rolled down the window. Alan could only see the edge of her face-platinum blonde hair and big bug-eyed sunglasses-around the large side mirror as she leaned her head out.
"What the hell are you doing, you dipshit?"
He opened his mouth, unsure how to reply. Then he felt a surge of blood pressure. His adrenaline hit, late to the party from the near miss.
"I'm walking," he called.
"You're in the middle of the road, jackass!"
"This is a parking lot," he said pointedly. "Not a road."
"You should be on a crosswalk!"
He gestured behind him. "Do you see a crosswalk anywhere around here?"
She jerked her head to the rear of her car. "There's one right back there, dipshit."
"I'm not going that way," he said, gritting his teeth gritted as he moved toward the driver side door. "That leads to another part of the parking lot. I'm going that way." He pointed firmly at the beach with his free hand. "Shouldn't you be thinking more about, I don't know, looking in the direction that you're driving? This is considered fairly basic tactic."
He finally got a better view of her at the door. It made him pause just a little. She was short-she looked dwarfed in her massive truck. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, but still spilled to her mid-back in a gleaming wave, and she had perfect, golden-tanned skin. She wore a white t-shirt over her shiny, gold-colored bikini. Alan could tell the color, because she had such huge knockers that pointed straight out of her chest, they stretched the white shirt thin enough to see the golden sparkle. She had a flat, lightly toned stomach, even scrunched up in a car.
"Stare much, creepwad?" she sneered.
He glared, hesitating. He opened his mouth.
"Dipshit," she said again, and hit the accelerator. Alan had to leap away or the back rear of truck would have clipped him as she roared passed. The truck made a squealing turn around a corner, and was lost from sight among the parked cards.
Alan stared after it. His jaw hurt. He let out a short breath, and then turned to the beach. His gut burned for a good twenty minutes after.
***
Alan stared up at the sky. His arms and legs were beginning to feel the burn as he treaded water, the waves washing him up and down. He nodded slightly, and then turned and swam back to shore.
He found his bag and umbrella where he'd buried them in the sand. He'd placed them near a stick, on a line between the fifth and sixth fence posts. He set up the umbrella well back from the shoreline, and threw down a towel to lie on. He paused, looking at the spot. Alan pulled the towel off again, and working with both hands, piled bunch of sand up on one side to elevate the head area, and then threw the towel over it again. He re-applied some SPF 50, and throwing on a pair of sunglasses, he settled just inside the shade of the umbrella.
And then he took another good look around.
Alan's eyes instantly settled on a pair of girls in the distance, slightly to his right. They were both about average height, Latin, and filled out their swim suits nicely. The one on the left had a sexy black tankini with white lining, emphasizing the nice way her cleavage pressed against the dark fabric. The one on the right had a dark green cut-out one piece, showing off some toned abs.
Alan frowned at them a moment, and then pulled out his phone. He used an app to calculate the distance they were from him-about 25 meters. He tilted his head, and then shrugged.
"Worth a shot," he muttered, and focused on them.
First he had to make sure they didn't walk right out of sight. [Slow down, enjoy the ocean a bit], he thought at them. It took another moment or so, but then they did slow, turning slightly to look at the crashing waves. As did several women around them. He saw one girl yanking a boy at her arm to stop, and he turned to her, blinking.
Alan scratched his chin. Was he having some sort of dispersion effect? He typed quickly into his notes of his phone:
{I'm probably adding in too many variables. Greater distance, multiple targets.} He stared at that for a moment. Alan shrugged again. {Well, I guess I'll just continue and see what happens.}
He tried to focus in on those two only. Like they were standing together across a tunnel from him. The cut-out girl had hard, toned ass that said she worked her booty, and the other had a nice wide, rounded shape out from her waist. He could feel his cock start to stir.
[I'm starting to get horny,] he thought at them. [I can feel the swimsuit rubbing against my clit. The fabric feels amazing.]
He stared at them. After three breaths, he didn't see any apparent change, so he tried again.
[So many hot guys out here. My pussy is so warm. How long has it been since I had a good cock?]
He leaned forward, squinting. They just continued to stare out at the ocean, turning slightly to chat a bit. They might have been breathing harder, but it was hard to tell from the distance. He took a deep breath, and gritting his teeth, he pushed at as 'hard' as he could (if that was the word):
[God, I could really use a fuck. And I mean right now].
At this there was a flurry a movement. Just as a man in long black trunks walked by the two women, they both instantly latched onto him, grabbing an arm each and pressing their boobs into his chest. He gave a quick, confused glance at them, but they pulled him hard and steadily, saying something in his ears, until they were out of site.
Alan blinked. His field of vision widened, and he suddenly noticed that that whole area was now almost emptied, and surrounding it was a large number of women urgently pulling on men out to the ocean, or to the parking lot, or another secluded spot. One nearest to him went so far as to yank her guy out of the sand where he had been burying himself, and after whispering something hot in his ear, grab him and drag him off the beach.
Alan made a sour face. {Refraction effect seems strong over distance with multiple targets.} he typed. {I've managed to get a whole bunch of guys lucky, so I guess I'll get karma points, but now I'll try a single target instead.}
He panned more to the left, looking for someone that was out of the blast area. There was a girl sunbathing, wearing a classic black bikini. She had dyed red hair, which looked odd with her deep tan, but her body was long and smooth, and she had a nice, firm pair nestled in her bikini top. She lay with her hands resting behind her head. He focused on just her.
