A Writer's Observation

Kazey De Beauchene sat on the beach blanket and smiled. The summer's day was glorious, with a high sky, brilliant sunshine, a slight breeze, and low humidity. It was days like this that made him glad he turned down the unpaid internship at the family friend's private investigative agency in favor of writing more short stories for local literary magazines, including one at his college. No one in his family faulted him for the decision. The head of the agency lauded him for choosing to continue writing over the summer.

He chose to put his blanket on a small stretch of beach away from the official campgrounds beach, on property attached to the ruins of an old hotel long left abandoned, and widely unknown by campers. This was his "secret place," his go-to location when he wanted to read and not be bothered by his sisters and their friends. To Kazey, it appeared no one else had found this spot, since the brush and bushes on his right side had not been trimmed and made for another wall of green. He reached into his backpack, removed a can of Dr Pepper, a pen, his leather journal, and prepared to continue with notes he started at breakfast. He opened the can when he heard female voices come from behind the verdant wall.

"Are you sure no one's going to see us?" an obviously nervous woman asked.

Kazey put down the can and crawled to the bushes. He peeked through an opening and saw who the sources of the voices were.

"No one's been here in years," a nude woman answered. He looked at her and the other three women and his eyes widened. This woman was ten years or so his senior, a woman whose midsection wrinkles told him she was a mother. Her breasts were sagging, due to the fact they were large. Her nipples were the color of dark bubble gum. She had very small areolae. This wasn't the first time he saw this, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. She had her hands on her hips, stood straight, and her smile never left her face. Kazey knew she loved being nude.

"Okay," the unsure woman added. She dropped her towel, exposing her pale white body to the air. Kazey's smile grew. She was a mature woman about his mother's age. She wasn't tall, shorter than his five feet, four inch mother was. This woman's bottom was wider, her breasts larger. Her smile widen when a soft breeze hit her body. Kazey was enjoying the view when something else came into view: a clean-shaven vagina, something he had seen only once before: one of his coed roommates did it as a dare in January but allowed it to grow back.

"God, Shirley," another woman began. Kazey noticed her: an older woman whose hips were wide, her breasts here sagging, her nipples were large and erect. She pointed to her friend's pubic area, "I like what you did there." This woman had the smallest of the breasts, slightly smaller than one of his roommates' B-cups were.

Shirley demurred. "Thank you."

"My husband asked me to do that last year," a third woman said. "But it itched too much, so I let it grow back." She leaned in to the woman called Shirley. "To be honest, it didn't do anything for him. He had problems getting it up and still wouldn't eat me." The other women laughed knowingly.

A fourth woman was quiet but nude. She had placed a large beach blanket on a patch of sand and was rooting through a large beach bag. He couldn't tell how tall she was, but noticed that she was the youngest. Her long brown hair flowed freely. Her breasts were the largest, at least a DD cup. Her nipples and areolae were dark, darker than her hair. Because she was sitting with her legs folded, he could not tell how she had her pubic hair.

"Do you need one of us to lick you, again," this young woman quipped.

Shirley blushed but smiled, "God yes!"

All the women laughed.

Kazey watched in silence as they moved into the water. They playfully splashed each other before Shirley and the youngest dove under the water. Their friends followed them. He observed them for a few more moments before coming up with an idea. Quickly and quietly, he slipped back to his blanket and grabbed his writing material. He quickly penned descriptions of all the women, especially the youngest. He wasn't sure how he would use these in his writing, but he knew that they would appear later.

Once he had written all the body descriptions and how he thought each woman would be in certain situations, he returned to the bush to get another look.

"Oh sweet Jesus," he mumbled when he saw Shirley on her back, on the youngest woman's blanket, her legs up in the air. He saw the youngest between the thighs, each other woman sucking on nipples. He slipped a hand down his swim trunks and pulled out his erection.

The young woman looked at the writer behind the table set up in the bookstore. He was signing copies of his latest book, the fourth novel in a series he does not intend to end soon. She read the previous three in the sequence and fell in love with his writing. It didn't hurt that she noticed right away that she bore a resemblance to one of the characters.

She waited patiently in line, waiting for her turn to have her edition signed. When her time came, she smiled broadly.

He accepted the book and looked at her. He smiled broadly and wrote his phone number on the dedication page. "Call me whenever you want," he said, handing it back to her.

She smiled and thanked him. Before leaving, she asked, "Can I see you after this? I'd like to discuss one of your characters."

"That would be great." Kazey De Beauchene looked at his watch and sighed. "I'm not done here for another hour. If you could wait, I'll take you for some lunch."

"I'd love that," she answered.