tagExhibitionist & VoyeurAshly's Adventures Ch. 02

Ashly's Adventures Ch. 02


Chapter 02 – The Bahamas (1983)

Ashly just couldn't believe her luck.

The curves and chubbiness that she saw in the self-deprecating mirror every day were now gone, a week after graduation and another week after turning 18. She was happy with her figure, and longed to show it off in cut-off jeans which just barely covered her sweet, round ass; or in a t-shirt tied under her breast, exposing the smooth tummy, the belly button a jewel to every man's eye she passed coming and going around the neighborhood. She marveled at the number of boys and men who stared at her when she went swimming at the pool down the street from her house. Her firm, tender 34DD's stood out, making a shadow over her smooth belly and flat pelvis, the comparison to a figure-8 not lost on one male or female who'd see her lounging to deepen her tan on her perfectly smooth skin. Her luxurious long hair was always a banner as she strode calmly, like a centerfold who didn't know her own beauty until she looked back at all the staring faces she recently passed.

And in passing on the street, wearing cut-off's, a skimpy t-shirt that showed her nipples through the braless material, and long legs soft and firm at the same time, she found him. Actually, he found her. He was in his early 30's, a dark tan and lots of jewelry, and could see she could take him somewhere if he rode her gorgeous looks the way he longed to ride her sweet ass, and the trimmed pussy; he assumed she was trimmed, since the shorts created an indenture against the folds of her pussy, and the lips peeked slightly out from the skimpy cotton panties underneath.

And all he saw was flesh.

His Trams-Am T-bird screeched to a halt and he leaped out of the car through the t-top, Dukes of Hazzard style. His Gucci boots hit the ground running, the Sergio Valente jeans, the silk shirt open to mid-chest, showing off his tight ass and muscular pecs and the heavy gold chain, the peace medallion encrusted in rubies and emeralds kept Ashly's eyes busy. His mini-spoon bounced next to the chain as he took two leaping steps, stopping in front of Ashly, smiling broadly, the caps of is teeth and the perfectly combed wings showing off the blue eyes and big, broad confidence behind the tight zipper; or was it a sock?

"You're a goddamned goddess," he said, still smiling broadly, "and you shouldn't be walking."

Ashly was surprised. Other men shouted comments about her body, sometimes making her stop in her Chuck Taylor low quarters, shyly trying to cover her fleshiness almost-bursting out of her skimpy clothing, or she'd blush, wondering if the offers to suck their throbbing cocks or bang her sweet, round titties, were really valid. But no one ever stopped, and her curiosity grew, until today.

She shifted slowly, her knees crossing each other in her sneakers, her cut-off's showing the disappearance of denim between her thighs, the nipple trying to push past the skimpy blue-ringed t-shirt, tied off under her amazing tits to show her wonderful stomach to the lothario in her path. She smiled a shy smile, her cheek blushing bright red, her eye lashes fluttering sweetly, her demeanor that of an innocent girl. But her mind raced with thoughts transmitting in her sensuous attire that she was more than willing to learn about all life entailed.

It was his charm, his fast-talking and his good looks that got her down to the Bahamas, on the shores in Bimini, wearing a skimpy bikini, watching a young boy with a dark tan holding a reflector as she smiled, lifted her hair, and pressing her elbows next to her breast. It took a day for her to decide, to rush out the door with little more than the clothing on her back, her passport, and some money from her father who hoped she'd have her dreams come true. She let the lothario, who's name she learned was Sam, when the plane was in flight and her impulse had taken her as far as possible continue taking all the pictures his Nikon could hold. Roll after roll of images were shot on their first day on the island. They had come from the US to a small plane in the Bahamas, and down to Bimini.

She posed, letting the water slide down her amazing curves, the skin splendid and curvaceous, the body making every man in range take in an eyeful as a memory for years to come. Sam was trying to follow his own impulses, the shutter snapping time and time again, making Ashly revel in the attention the images would garner on a magazine possibly going around the world in a matter of weeks. He smiled past his sunglasses, holding his camera in the moving tide, and when the crowd moved off, asking Ashly, "Now honey, lose the top."

"Are you joking," she replied. "I didn't come down here for that kind of photo shoot."

Sam cooed: "Ashly, you're gonna cover your breast with your hands. It's a cheesecake shot. It looks sexy but there's no sex involved. Same as the bottom: when we're closer to the rocks, the spray and water will cover your skin and pubes but nothing will show. I promise."

Despite the sun, Ashly's blushing was evident to the photographer. She smiled the same shy smile that drew him to her on the street, and said softly, "I shaved most of my pussy smooth so the dark hairs wouldn't stick out of the bottom."

"Toss the top in the air when the waves hit you. But let's get behind those rocks. The kid with the reflector won't care."

Ashly watched the young man barely her own age, gangly and under-fed but working at this job as hard as possible, watching the equipment, seeing the reflector move, taking all the orders and abuse Sam could muster in his photos. She also noticed his plaid shorts housed a hard-on rising thicker than she could have imagined, firm and standing, straining sideways, thick as a cut piece of sugar cane, trying to escape from his shorts through the pocket under his belt.

Hours later, they strolled into the hotel, camera equipment in tow, Ashly wearing a colorful sarong around the high-cut bikini, her cleavage bared and the nipples hard against the material. She was rubbing a towel through her hair, the long strands moving with the terrycloth material in her scalp to take out the sea water. She smiled, imagining a long hot shower, and a few cool, rum based drinks with this handsome photographer. Her smile warmed the tropical room just a little more, as she came up behind Sam in his linen shirt and huaraches. He was talking to the manager frantically, waving his arms at the imposing African-America with the soft but deep voice, the Anglican accent a lilt in his tone.

"What the fuck do you mean my American Express has been declined?!" Sam was bellowing, his face a raging pink contrasting with his blonde moustache and hair. His arms waved in the air, moving in an animated expression of right and wrong. He had just watched the clerk clip his credit card in half, and then called for a manager to take care of the situation.

"Mr. Sam," the tall, very-fit manager said, towering over the photographer by six inches, "if you have a complaint there's an office next to the US Embassy, three blocks south of here. It's just past lunch now so there should be someone in the office."

Shaking his fist, Sam turned to Ashly and the boy, who still held all his camera gear and the reflector like a pack mule, saying, "Go upstairs to our suite. Order a snack and I'll pay the kid when I get back."

Ashly wasn't thrilled her experience was turning out as it was, and Sam reached out, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I'll be back in an hour. Then we can have dinner together and go dancing, okay?"

A shy smile split her cheeks, and she blushed. Ashly and the kid walked up the stairs, the managers' and clerks eyes on her swaying, and perfect ass under the length of the sarong. She could almost feel their stares clipping the bikini top, wanting to expose her in front of everyone. She could also feel them breathing, almost on her neck, the tropical breeze stroking her damp hair, the towel moving under its own power, shifting with the swinging of her luscious ass as she walked away, not wanting the journey to be undone or ruined by this small snafu.

Unlocking the door to the suite, Ashly strolled in, tossing her towel to the floor. She noticed the wine coolers in the mini-fridge, and took one, sipping from the long neck. The boy, Raul, watched, licking his lips. Ashly noticed he wasn't ugly, really, just thin, and dark from living in the tropics. His hair was naturally curly, and his shoulders drooped slightly, the muscles slightly defined. "I'm sorry Raul. Would you like a Coke?"

"Thank you Miss Ashly," he said softly. His voice betrayed his age, just barely over eighteen, and he seemed very shy. Ashly was watching him stare at her body, the sarong not hiding anything and the nipples now a little harder than before from her hospitality and his thirst. Looking into his brown eyes, Ashly knew inside he hungered for something else. His arm turned up the soda, downing it quickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as the carbonated drink slid down his throat. Ashly took another sip of her wine cooler, felt the heady buzz of the light liquor, and said, "I'm gonna take a shower. Want to scrub my back honey?"

Raul couldn't believe his luck, his eyes jumping, absorbing every inch of her skin, tracing her figure into his memory, her gorgeous body with him until the day he died. He smiled a toothy white smile, contrasting his dark complexion, and watched her move like reeds in the water, swaying gently, a small dance of temptation as she roller her hips like a hula dancer, subtle and gentle. The sarong came off, and then the top fell to the floor, all the time Ashly kept her back to him. Raul was mesmerized, seeing this gorgeous young woman stripping, stepping out of her sandals, long legs moving with the switch of her ass, and he gazed adoringly, watching the model stroll casually into the bathroom, running the oversized tub, water splashing in the basin. He couldn't move, until he saw the bikini bottom fly through the air and land, soggy from the modeling, at his feet.

Raul watched Ashly move slowly into the shower, the marble floor contrasting her skin, the water rushing off her body, down her back and into the floor. His hard-on was long and thick, like a billy-club. Ashly didn't know if it was genetic or luck for this boy to have such a large cock, but she smiled, letting him enter with her, hugging him close, kissing his neck, showing him her gentle touch. Ashly turned him around, water slipping between them both, her nipples in his spine, his eyes shut tight in ecstasy, moaning in delight as her hands caressed the spine, then rose along the back around his small waist, and over to his stomach. She could hear Raul giggling, and smiled, shaking off her wet hair, kissing his shoulders, and seeing his dark-caramel skin moving in response to her caress. Her lips moved slowly between the beads of water, licking it, her nimble fingers moving along the length of the cock-stalk holding it in her hands, gently groping the length, holding him, keeping him inside her grip, wanting to see what this excited young boy would do with her ready, seductive touch.

Raul felt his balls moving with her touch, the hairiness of the sacs jumping in reply to her touch, keeping his body stiff and rigid, making him want to turn, to feel her heaving, perfect breast against his chest. To see her mouth hungering for his touch and his need to be pleased, and to know he could satisfy her, even if he was a virgin.

"Miss Ashly," he whispered, "m-may I touch you?"

"Shhh Raul. Let me do all the work."

Raul turned, watching Ashly slip down to her knees, cradling his cock inside her heavy cleavage, closing the amazing breast around the hard-on, making him smile. Her tongue reached out, licking the tip, water and precum and their mixed saltiness making her want more. The boy looked down, touching her cheek with the back of his hand, caressing it lovingly, and then his eyes bulged, seeing her lips cover the tip, sucking him into her mouth. Ashly worked the length slowly, bobbing gently, working the dickmeat deeper inside her mouth, slobbering all over him, her saliva mixing with his length, precum and the water of the shower. He watched her breast moving from side to side, keeping the cock between them, the nipples closing in on each other, and the head of his dick popping out between sliding motions of her mouthing him, and her titfucking him. Raul had to move his hands behind her head, keeping his legs steady, watching her sucking and making him feel like the only man in the world. She worked, slobbering faster, sucking harder, the cheeks of her mouth flexing, hollowed with the suction men dream about with a woman as sexy as her at their feet.

"Do you think I'm pretty Raul? Pretty enough to fuck repeatedly? Or maybe to feed your cum to?"

Raul was dumbfounded, watching the pornographic display in the shower with him, touching her head, seeing her bobbing, sucking, and licking him like mad again and again. She slid down under him, her mouth a vacuum on his testicles, sucking the balls one by one into her mouth, keeping him harder than he could have imagined, and always on the verge of an orgasm. His eyes watched the smile a contrast to his skin and to Ashly's tan, moaning and gasping, seeing her sucking him harder and deeper. She was testing her gag reflex with his cockmeat, fucking her own face, moaning and pumping him like a woman possessed. Ashly would only stop when asked, moved or fed the jism she sought.

And it was all for her pleasure.

Suddenly, Raul cried out, gripping her head, keeping her tight against his waist, cumming hard and deep down her throat. Her mouth clamped down like a lamprey on a shark, feeding deep and hungrily, sucking his cum down, a slurping sound audible over the running water, the music in the street, and her own moans of pleasure and delight. He moaned loud, gasping in abandon, almost drowning as his head hung back, his mouth swallowing the flash of water from the shower head. Ashly kept working the cock, sucking its' length, slurping, savoring all she could consume.

A giggle and Raul was back in the shower with the naked model at his feet, his own smile covering his cheeks. His trip to Nirvana was shaken when his amazing orgasm ended, and he felt his knees turn to jelly. Ashly smiled, and whispered, "Did you like that Raul? I know Mr. Sam was an asshole at times but I didn't want you to think all models were bitches."

"You're special. No doubt in my thoughts, Miss Ashly. Thank you."

"Thank you for the cum," she replied. "Now let me finish my shower."

Raul added: "Still want me to scrub your back?"

Both young lovers giggled, and Ashly stood, a soapy loofa in his hands, caressing her body, lathering her up and making her smile like never before. She'd only been with boys she'd known for a few clumsy experiences, and now this teen made her wonder what other men would be like. Many other men, even more than one at a time. After toweling off, Raul took a kiss in lieu of money, recalling the amazing shower blowjob, and left for home, leaving Ashly alone to dress, and wait for Sam.

Wearing a cocktail dress and heels, Ashly watched the sunset from the balcony of the suite, waiting for Sam. She smiled, having enjoyed sucking off and tit-fucking Raul, then having a chance to have another wine cooler, the smooth alcohol making her horny again after the boy left. Lying back on the bed, Ashly took the cool bottle, rubbed it slowly against her pussy lips, and rolled her hips, feeling the neck slide inside her sweet pink twat. She moaned, fucking herself slowly and deep with the neck, holding her thighs as close as possible, biting her lower lip and rubbing the clitty with her other hand. The deft finger moved gently, and then she gasped, moaning, her head thrashing from side to side, the whimpers and groans of a satisfying orgasm filling the room. Ashly couldn't believe she enjoyed the cool, inanimate object so wonderfully, and yet she did, without hesitation. She couldn't help herself, licking the neck, cleaning the glass of her hot, salty twat juices. She smiled, wondering if any other woman tasted as sweet as she does to her own palette.

After masturbating to her delightful orgasms, Ashly got dressed, skipping the panties, moving her breast so the cleavage showed like a trophy from the tube-top of the skin-tight dress. She felt the hemline sitting under her asscheeks, and stepped into stiletto heels, like the girls in the ZZ Top videos. She adored the rock-vixen-look she held wearing the dress, and couldn't wait to see if Sam liked it.

But after three hours, no Sam.


She was on her third wine cooler when the sound took her from the balcony inside the suite. Ashly wasn't sure who was at the door, or maybe Sam lost his key. But the door was quiet, and she was uncertain of what to expect, especially dressed as sexy as she was at that moment.

The tall, muscular black manager of the hotel was at the door.

"Miss Ashly," he said gently, "this cable came for you at the desk."

"Thank you." Ashly turned, giving him an eyeful from her tight dress, her breast bouncing softly with the contained spandex dress, moving back to the balcony. She smiled, watching, blushing with the contact his eyes made with every inch of her wanton figure, her eyes scanning the handwriting on the paper:


Sorry babe but I need to jet back to the States for some cash and see what I can do about our bill. Don't worry about a thing. I'll be back shortly. I'm sure the manager, Mr. Benjamin, can work something out with you.


She dropped the letter to the floor, watching the horizon, seeing the waves of the ocean reflecting the moonlight of the night. Ashly could watch the view forever, knowing that she was appreciated for her figure and for her hopes and dreams. Her long legs moved with the swing of a burlesque dancer making her way across the stage, knowing that all eyes were on her wicked figure. Her heels sank slowly, softly in the plush rug, and she came closer step by step to the manager.

"Mr. Benjamin, is it?" She asked softly, watching his deep eyes staring into hers', brown to her green eyes, smiling showing off her bright pink-hued lipstick to the brilliant smile beneath her lips. "What's my bill for staying so far in this suite?"

Benjamin smiled, not even looking past her nose, dazzled by her flickering eyes, and staring deep inside her green eyes, smiling softly. His moustache moves with the corners of his mouth, and he whispers, "Don't worry. You're not being charged right now. I know Mr. Sam left, but I'm sure we can ... work something out."

She smiled. He was a handsome man, pleasing to her eyes. At least 6ft., 3 inches, very trim, broad shoulders that make his body look like a upside down pyramid. She could see the perfect white teeth, the broad, muscular biceps, the moustache and trimmed beard, his eyes and the tight curly hair on his scalp. His hands were enormous, and his stomach was flat as a board, a perfectly proportioned man out of Da Vinci's anatomical studies. Another step and she moved quietly, calmly watching his eyes, never stopping the cat-like motions of her body with the locked gaze Benjamin kept on her chin, his eyes scanning up along the seductive smile and down along the tapered waist and flared breast jutting out, making a shadow on her feet. Calypso music could still be heard below the balcony, and Ashly slid her hands under his armpits, standing on her toes, embracing him ever so gently. She leaned upward, her eyes moving from his neck to the chin, past his shaky smile and down onto his brown eyes.

His chin came down, and his lips met hers', kissing her tenderly, wrapping the massive arms around the tiny bikini model, bringing her closer to his mouth. Their tongues danced slowly, lovingly, kissing holding each other within the moment, wanting the seal never to be broken. Ashly opened her mouth fuller, pressing upward, her full double-D breast flattening out against his linen shirt. She could feel his heart beating faster through her breast, the nipples hardening to a diamond tip, the point made sharper and starting to ache from his touch. Ashly could not help but to find the delight of her infatuation so wonderful, the man kissing her made her knees buckle, her foot reflexively coming up, an innate response to his touch.

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