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Our day at the beach for a vacation fantasy cum true didn’t quite pan out the way Lola had envisioned it. We didn’t make it to the nude beach, but we did find a lovely stretch of semi-private secluded sand where we could lay out and enjoy the sun and sea. But, much to Lo’s consternation, soon after we had parked our payload of the day’s provisions and set up camp, a gaggle of girls moved in on our unofficial quadrant of beach and set up their site immediately adjacent to ours. This wouldn’t have been unwelcome if it were a handful of hunky men that Lo could tease and tempt all day, but that was not the case. It was five college age women in the skimpiest of thongs, showing off their bubble-butts for each other, and, I can only assume, since I was the only male on the strand, for my viewing pleasure. This latter fact perturbed Lo to no end.

Not only did these women have the nerve to spread out (in every sense of the term) in our line of vision, but they spent a good deal of the time taking selfies, posing for each other’s pics, doing ridiculous stretches for the camera, and slapping each other’s butts. The height of indiscretion came when, as Lo and I were walking past them to take a dip, one of them stopped me and asked if I would take a photo of their entire crew lined up by the water so that they could have a group photo. I knew that acquiescing to this polite request would put me in Lo’s bad graces, but proper etiquette demanded that I oblige. So I took a few snaps of the ladies and then ran to catch up with Lo who was ankle deep in the water.

“Having fun?” she asked in her sarcastic tone.

“Lo, I didn’t invite them to join us here. This wasn’t my plan. I didn’t ask to take their photo. They approached me.” All of this was true and she knew it, yet I sounded as guilty as if I were a five-year-old caught with my hand in the cookie jar trying to say, “It wasn’t me.”

Despite all the facts being on my side, that was no alibi in the eyes of the law; that is, in Lo’s very green eyes with which she judged me. The true crime, as she saw it, had nothing to do with those facts, but with her perception, right or wrong, that I enjoyed the facts as they were. For that, there was no excuse and no punishment harsh enough.

The water was a little cold, but that was nothing as compared to the cold shoulder Lo was showing me. I didn’t know how I was going to get out of such a predicament.

“Look,” she said to me, “if you want me to wear a dental floss thong bikini, I will. Just say the word.”

“Word.”

“I hate you,” she said, kicking the water and splashing me.

“You said to. . .”

It didn’t matter. I realized that we were no longer in the realm of reason. This was pure emotion and trying to explain anything was futile.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested. I took her hand, which she reluctantly allowed, and we strolled through the small waves.

We got about a quarter mile down the beach in silence and then I said, “Lo, you’re the only one for me. You and you alone.”

“Then why do you look at those floozies?”

I could have explained that sitting on the beach, looking out at the horizon, only to have that vista invaded by almost bare bottomed, big breasted bimbos was not “looking” at them, but something much more passive. However, again, that would be an appeal to reason, logic, and facts, none of which were going to aid me in this argument.

“I’m looking at you. I’m with you. I want you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Trick question. Why usually evokes a causal explanation. Not here. Not now.

“I love you, Lo. You’re the only woman I love. No one else is you. You are the only you I know and that’s the person I love.” I was sincere.

Hearing those words, she leaned in for me to hug her. I gave her what she wanted. I held her tight. It was a tender moment, but it also aroused me. Feeling her flesh on mine, holding her body close to me as the water curled around our feet, I was eager to have her. I could feel she was eager to have me too. I pulled at the string of her bikini top. I untied it. It fell to the ground between us. I slid her out of her bikini bottoms. She willingly lifted her legs out of them. I grabbed the top and the bottoms in my hand so they wouldn’t float away.

We were alone on the beach and I kissed her and held her. My mouth slid down her neck to her breasts. I dropped to my knees. I kissed her soft belly. I kissed my way down to her smooth, supple pussy as my arms wrapped around her and held her ass. The waves washed up on my hips and torso. I kissed her gentle kisses around her pale, white triangle.

She just kept saying, “Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

She then slid down onto her knees and motioned for me to stand. The waves were washing up between her legs, splashing on her pink pussy lips. She pulled down my bathing suit and pulled out my hard rod. She kissed it and caressed it, licked it and devoured it with her open mouth. In and out she bobbed it as one hand held it firm and the other rubbed her pussy. She continued until I came on her, raining down white froth like the white foam of the sea that was between her legs. On her face, lips, tongue, tits, tum, and legs it poured forth. She loved it.

“Come here,” she said. I crouched down next to her. “Kiss me,” she commanded.

I leaned in and kissed her with an open mouth. As our tongues twirled, she pulled my naked body close to hers, pulling us both down into the water.

Then she released me. Her hands were between her legs and she was fondling herself. She quickly diddled and fingered herself until she came, squirting into the churning sea.

[Excerpt from the story, “Bimbos, Bubble-butts, and Blowjobs,” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]

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Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail: downloladown@gmail.com

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