It was a pleasant summer day and I'd gone to the beach with Cheryl so that we could work on our tans. We'd found a relatively secluded place on the far side of some boat-sheds and were just relaxing and taking it easy. Nobody was bothering us as there was no beach to speak of where we were. Basically a lot of brush and a few patches of sand, on one of which we'd settled.
We had some drinks and nibbles and sunscreen and just relaxed and let the sun soak in. After a couple of hours Cheryl decided to reapply her sunscreen and asked me to toss the tube to her, which I did.
She totally flubbed the catch. All she had to do was hold out her hands and the tube would have just dropped into them, but she grabbed and bounced the tube up into the air and onto her shoulder, with it finishing up landing on this ramp leading from the boat-shed to the water. I assumed that it was used for getting the boats in and out of the water.
Now all Cheryl had to do was hop up on the ramp and pick up the tube. There was one tiny problem with this. We were at the boat-shed end of the ramp, not the water end, which meant that there was a bit of a drop from the ramp to the ground. Some accident cautious soul had stuck up some railing on either side of the ramp to prevent unwanted accidents. They either had more money than sense or they'd used a five-fingered discount to get the railing as it looked to me to be an expensive bit of work. It wasn't just a bar with some support posts but quite an ornate piece of fencing, which meant the Cheryl was either going to have to walk down and around or jump over the railing. She chose option three.
She reached between the rails to grab the tube, saying a few rude things when she found it was still out of reach. I watched, amused, as she wriggled and squirmed, trying to get that extra couple of inches closer. She was reaching in, stretching hard, facing the railing so she could see what she was doing, when her head popped between the rails just as neat as you please, giving her the extra room. She gave a yip of triumph and grabbed the tube.
It turned out that she now had a real problem. When she pulled back her head refused to come. It was stuck firmly on the other side. I think the problem was mainly her ears. Pushing in they flattened against her head. Pulling back they spread out, catching on the bars, and holding her in place.
Once I stopped giggling I tried to help her. Nothing seemed to work. She was well and truly trapped.
"Um, Cheryl, I'm going to have to go and get help," I told her. "We need someone to get a jack or something to lever the bars apart. I'm pretty sure if we wedged a car jack between the bars and started opening it the bars would bend."
"For god's sake, don't get anyone. Grab the jack from my car and we can use that. It's not that hard to use one, after all. I don't really want anyone catching me like this."
"Ah, it might be a little late for that," I mumbled.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you remember that little guy who Michael brought along to our eighteenth birthday do? The one who asked you out. I think you called him pudgy Paul."
Cheryl said a rude word and sounded as though she meant it.
"Him of all people. What use will a fat little butterball be? He probably doesn't even know how to use a jack."
I looked at the man who was approaching. I vaguely remembered being introduced at the birthday party but that was all I knew about him. I gave him quite a bit of attention at this point.
He was wearing shorts and that was it. Now if he was a butterball it certainly wasn't obvious from his physique. He was, to put it crudely, built like a brick shit-house. It looked to me that he was a walking slab of muscle. Even his muscles looked as though they had their own set of muscles. He looked as though he could just rip the bars apart and if they were reluctant, why, he'd just bite them in half.
"Um, I think you might have misjudged the lard to muscle ratio," I mumbled.
Paul came strolling up, his face totally bland. Lying swine. I was quite sure that inside he was rolling around laughing.
"Cheryl," he said, and then looked at me. "Simone, isn't it? I believe I met you at your joint eighteenth birthday party."
"Um, yes," was all I said.
"Doesn't it grate on you having your birthdays on the same day?" he asked, seeming genuinely interested.
"There's actually a couple of days difference," I told him. "Being friends and neighbours we find it convenient and less expensive to just hold a joint celebration as we tend to have the same set of friends."
"Do tell. Ah, just as a matter of curiosity why has Cheryl got her head on the other side of the railing?"
"It was an accident," I told him, while Cheryl silently stewed. "I was about to go and get a jack to try to force the bars apart."
"I'm sure there'll be no need for that," he told me. "If you'll excuse me I'll just test my theory over here."
With that he moved a couple of steps away, gripped a pair of bars, and pulled at them. It was a case of 'holy shit, would you look at that'! The way those bars buckled under his pull you'd think they were made of plastic. Apparently those muscles weren't just for show.
"Yeah, I thought that would happen," he said with some enthusiasm. "I suppose you'd like the ones holding you moved as well, Cheryl?"
"Yes, please," came her reply, and it sounded to me as she was gritting her teeth together as she said it.
He eased me to one side and then to my surprise he knelt down behind Cheryl. It was an even greater surprise when he lowered her bikini and started massaging her.
It was quite a surprise to Cheryl, too, judging by her outraged shriek.
"What the fuck do you think you're playing at," she howled, and I have to admit that I was yelling the exact same sentence.
Paul laughed, glancing at me to give me a wink.
"The labourer is worthy of his hire," he said. "I'm just collecting my payment in advance."
I was about to move over and try to forcibly push him away but the look he gave me changed my mind. I'd let Cheryl handle it.
She read him the riot act. If I'd been on the receiving end of a tirade like that I'd have backed off real fast. Paul just laughed and kept playing with her pussy. He stroked and touched her up for several minutes while she snapped and snarled and described his character in depth, and very murky depths they were. I could almost see Cheryl breathe a sigh of relief when he removed his hands.
A moment or two later I was starting to sweat and had a word of warning for Cheryl.
"Um, Cheryl, I think it's only fair to warn you that Paul is only small height-wise. Maybe it's that short stature that makes other things look longer and fatter."
(Maybe, but I wasn't going to place any bets on it.)
"What the hell are you talking about?" Cheryl demanded and then gave a startled squawk.
