Sunny Side Up
To celebrate my newfound flaccidness (is that a word? I’m declaring this a word now!), Mandy and I decided to go to the beach yesterday.
You can imagine things didn’t quite work as planned.
We got there late in the morning, still early enough that the place wasn’t too crowded, but not so much so that we had a lot of private space. But hey, it’s a beach, and the whole point of going was NOT to have privacy. I’ve had enough privacy in the last months, so I was grateful for the crowd.
You probably know that even in her post-curse state, Mandy is still a very hot-looking girl. She has that killer white bikini that she likes wearing when she knows she’s only going sunbathing. That’s what she wore this time.
It was all good at first. We were soaking up the rays, each reading some books we’d brought. For me, that was a copy of “How _NOT_ to Write a Screenplay.” For her, it was some Harlequin novel, “The Girl in the Steel Corset.” (To her defense, this isn’t because she LIKES those books, but the result of a bet she lost with me.)
Then at some point, she got thirsty, so she got up and headed toward a small concession stand nearby to get us some bottled water. I watched her swinging hips as she headed out, also noticing a few other guys doing the same (can’t blame ‘em!). My eyes only left her for a moment, but that’s when something happened and she yelped.
I immediately looked back at her and saw that her top had come undone and she was holding the cups in place with both hands. Then she cried again and I literally saw the straps of her bottom snap off. She had no hands left to cover herself, so she dropped to her knees and sat in the sand.
It didn’t take me very long to do the math. I scanned the beach near her, and sure enough, I saw that Hobo again, the one who owns Meghan’s Funcam. I immediately jumped to my feet and started racing in his direction. He saw me, grinned maliciously, and lifted the camera in my direction. I was barely past Mandy when he snapped a picture of me. My trunks came undone and dropped around my knees. I stumbled and fell face first into the sand. I spat some sand and was about to get up when I saw him point the camera in all directions, his finger remaining on the button.
He was rapid-firing shots everywhere. As in, ten a second or so. And with every shot, there was someone new being affected.
Like this very busty girl whose one-piece swimsuit ripped up down the front, right down to below her navel.
Or this large man whose trunks slid down to his ankles, revealing an unimpressive erection (I had a moment of sympathy for him).
Or even these two lifeguards, a guy and a girl, who tripped on their tangled bottoms and felt against each other.
Or this chubby mother who was playing in the sand with her two boys, and whose creamy breasts were exposed to her children’s stunned gaze. (They were large, but a bit too National Geographic for me.)
And of course, chaos erupted on the beach. I grabbed my trunks and held onto them as I raced toward the Hobo, but there were people standing and running everywhere, so he was gone by the time I reached his spot. I couldn’t find a trace of him.
That guy is REALLY bugging me.