A Day at the Beach

"Ricky! You coming?"

"In a minute."

He watched his parents walk across the sand and go into the bath house. He reached into the cooler pulled out a beer, slid it into a koozie, and cracked it open. He was too young to drink, but he'd packed the cooler and squirreled a couple of extra cans of beer. They were the same silver color as his soda, so no one would notice, especially in the koozie.

He took a long pull and scoped out the beach. There was decent surf and down a ways he could see guys riding the waves. He wished he had a board, but he was saving for a car. His dad said he'd match him and it would silly to waste that. Still, where there were guys surfing there would be girls. Maybe he'd get lucky.

He heard his mother's voice, grabbed his trunks out of the beach bag, and headed for the bath house. He finished his beer, tossed the can into the trash. He'd sucked it down pretty fast and he could already feel it. He stepped into the bathroom to pee, then headed towards the back. There were rows of changing rooms. Women to the right. Men to the left. He checked the men's side, ducking down, looking under the doors. All empty. He stopped, listened. There was nothing but beach sounds and the occasional cry of a gull. He checked out the women's side, moving more slowly, cautiously. Like the men's, they were all empty.

He opened the first door. Nothing. He opened the second, third, fourth. Maybe some girl had left her panties. Hey. It could happen.

The sixth door was locked. He ducked down and, sure enough, it was empty. A prank. He'd done it before. Lock the door then crawl out. He pictured some old lady worming her way into the booth. Better yet a girl. A girl like Jennifer with her big tits and big ass. Oh yeah.

He tried the rest of the doors. He was about to go to the men's side to change when, for no reason, he went back to the locked door. He stopped, listened, dropped to his hands and knees, stuck his head under the door, and leapt back, banging his head on the bottom of the door and fetching up hard against the wall.

It was a girl!!

His instinct was to run, but before he could get to his feet his brain processed what he had seen. It was a woman, kneeling on the bench and she was all tied up.

He willed himself to settle down, crawled over to the cubicle, looked under the door again.

Yes, it was a woman. She was kneeling on the bench propped up in the corner. She had ropes or straps or something around her legs and around her chest and she had a blindfold and gag.

Footsteps! Loud women's voices. Ricky scrabbled under the door, stood, pressed himself against he wall. He heard two doors open, then slam shut. The women kept up their conversation. There was the sound of scuffling, then doors opening and closing. Finally, the sounds of receding footsteps.

Ricky, panting, pressed against the wall turned and looked at the woman.

She was a woman, not a girl. He couldn't tell how old she was, except that her skin was brown and smooth. She seemed slim with long legs tucked under her and a serious rack. And he could see her tits. She was sweating, beads on her chest forming rivulets, running down over her tits, soaking her top turning it transparent. He could see the white triangles from her bikini top, the large, brown nipples. Then he realized it wasn't a bathing suit - it was a bra.

She had a wide, white cloth across her face, covering from her forehead down to her nose. Another white cloth with a large knot filled her mouth. He could see her teeth and the red lipstick stains on the cloth.

She had a white strap above her tits and another below. Her hands were behind her back and he could see a glimpse of metal. Handcuffs? Lastly, there was a strap around her legs binding her ankles to her thighs.

Ricky took a step closer. There wasn't room for more than a step and he eased back for fear of touching her. But he did touch her.

He had never seen a girl's tits. On the internet, sure, but not in real life. And it wasn't like the sex vids with the girls shaking their tits all over the place. She just knelt there, her chest rising and falling gently. He reached out.

He'd never touched a girl before. Well, at camp last year he had hooked up with a girl, Bethany. And they kind of hung out and they made out. And he tried to cop a feel, but she brushed his hand away. A couple of days later he tried again and she got all pissed at him. But he'd always remember how it felt to squeeze her little girl's tit under her t-shirt.

These weren't little girl tits. He put his hands on both of them, gently, not too hard.

He groped her for a few minutes, then he realized that the bra clasp was in front.

With trembling hands he undid the clasp, pulled the cups apart. A part of his brain was in denial. No way was he going to actually play with her bare tits! But he did. Oh yeah.

The woman knelt there, calm, unmoving as he squeezed her tits, played with her nipples. He even sucked her nipples. And he must have been doing something right because they got really hard.

After several minutes he pulled back. His cock was hard, straining in his shorts. He looked down at her. The way she was kneeling he couldn't see her pussy, but he could see a bit of sheer cloth on her butt. He resisted the urge to free her legs, resisted the urge to see her pussy, touch it. That... that would be too much, too much like rape.

He jerked off, staring down at the mostly naked, helpless woman, splashing his sperm on the wall.

"You didn't!"

Robin took a sip of wine, gestured toward the beach.

"Yep. right down there."

Right down there was five stories down and a bit to the right of their hotel balcony.

"But what if someone came in?"

"That's the point, isn't it. Being all helpless, irresistible, vulnerable."

"Robin!"

"I mean, I'm on the pill. So what's the harm."

Judy scowled at her.

"I'm kidding. Sheesh. But, yeah, I think about it. Today I was thinking about some married guy coming in. You know, some guy with a bit of a beer belly, a fat wife, and a couple of pudgy kids. Someone who knew what sex was, but hadn't been getting much lately. Someone who would be, uh, appreciative."

"You're sick."

Robin sipped her wine.

"You know... someone did come in."

"What?! Are you serious?"

"Mm. I got myself all ready. Stripped down to my underwear, you know the sheer set, the set that goes transparent when wet, as in I'm in a hot, stuffy room and I'm dripping. He got quite a show."

"Anyway, I strapped my legs, then I blindfolded myself and gagged myself, worked a couple of straps above and below my boobs, and cuffed my wrists."

"I hope you had the key."

"No. I just figured I'd call 911. Of course I had the key, on a string, on my finger."

"And someone came in."

"Uh huh. I heard him moving around, checking out the rooms, opening doors. I thought he'd left, but then he came back and I could hear him outside the door."

"I hope the door was locked."

"Not that it did much good. The bottom is two feet off the floor. Anyway, I heard voices and then I heard him scrambling under the door and he's in the room and I can hear him breathing."

"You're sure it was a he?"

"Oh yeah. At one point he was sucking my nipples and he had one of those scruffy beards all the guys wear."

"I hate those."

"Yeah, me too. Pretty much put the kibosh on cunnilingus in my book."

"You got that right."

They touched glasses.

"Mm. Anyway, so what happened?"

"Not much. He stood there for a while, then he groped me for a while, then her undid my bra and groped me some more. Then he masturbated."

"What?!"

"Mm. You know. You can tell, the sounds and all."

"Did he, er, cum on you?"

"Uh uh. There was a stain on the wall next to my shoulder."

"Then what?"

"Nothing. When I heard him leave I free myself, got dressed, and came back here."

"Did he see you?"

"Doubt it. I heard him go out the beach side and I went out the back door and there was nobody around. So I came back here and took a shower."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much. How was your day?"

"I beat Paco. It was pretty close, but I birdied the last two holes and he shanked one o.b."

"Judy! You know you're not supposed to beat the boys at sports!"

"Ricky are you coming?"

"No!" What sixteen year old wants to go to dinner with his parents. Besides he'd have to wear a tie. "No, sorry. I'm just gonna, uh, hang out."

His parents gone, Ricky downloaded the pix to his computer, wiped the phone's memory. He moved them to a secret folder, a folder named like alphabet soup in the middle of the system folders likewise named.

He pushed away from his desk, went out to the kitchen, poured some Coke into a glass. Back in his room he fetched his hidden bottle of rum. He didn't drink much, especially at home. His mother had a real sensitive nose, called his dad out a couple of times. Ricky even measured out exact shots. He did so and dropped one into his Coke, stirred it with his finger.

He pulled off his shorts, grabbed his dick, clicked on the first picture, mentally kicked himself, again, for not checking for a wallet. It would have been nice to see her face, nice to know her name. Maybe he could have found out where she lived. Maybe...

"Damn."

18.09.13