Beach Goddess

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Sometimes visions are real.
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Jon drove slowly down the beach. He loved Daytona just for that reason. Being able to drive his tricked out Jeep down the shining sand with the water on one side and the sight of bikini-clad bodies all around him—nothing better in all of the world as far as he was concerned.

The hotels rose up to his left, their balconies crowded with beach chairs and towels, surfboards and floats. The place wasn't as hopping as it had once been but it was still a surfing, sandy heaven for sunbathers and ocean-lovers and he was most definitely that.

The air coming through the jeep was rich with the tang of salt. The sun lay on his toned and tanned upper body and flat abs. Women smiled and he smiled back. His hair, tinted to a honey color by the sun, blew back from his forehead and his blue eyes, behind the aviator sunglasses, scanned the area restlessly.

College aged girls gamboled in the roaring waters, and he laughed as one got knocked right off her feet. She went under and came back up, spluttering and laughing, water shedding from her body and her hair hanging across her face in soaked sheets and strings.

Jon parked and got out right below the lifeguard tower. Andy, his dark hair slick with sweat and sunblock, saw him and stood up, stretching slowly as he did so. Jon climbed up the short steps and fist-bumped Andy. "How was it today?"

Andy lifted one toned shoulder then dropped it. "All green flags man." That meant the water had no riptides, marine life, or dangerous swells. In other words, it was a perfect day to take a dip in the ocean.

"Nice. You get to go out at all?"

"Nobody decided to dunk so no." In other words nobody had nearly drowned either. "I'm going to hit the waves for a few then head home. You all settled in?"

"I'm officially on duty." Jon settled into the chair and scanned the surf and sand again. Everything good. He leaned back as Andy left the building. Being a lifeguard was the perfect second gig. It gave him extra money, let him hang out on the beach, and allowed him to scope out all the action. Win-win-win.

Not much was happening. The sun had hit a zenith and it was nearly three in the afternoon. The people who'd come out too early were sunburned or on their way there, grumpy, hungry, and ready to go back to their rooms and their air conditioners. Little kids demanded food and he watched as the strand of sand slowly emptied.

Between three and five it would empty like that—steadily and surely—until there was nobody left but a few diehards and the oldsters with their metal detectors. Jon was often amused by the latter; they reminded him of the gulls that swept in after the crowds left. The gulls and the ones toting the metal detectors were hoping for the same thing—to find a little treasure left behind by the ones who'd already left the beach.

The sun moved higher still. He pushed the chair back further, making sure to stay just in the sun enough to get tan but not too far out that he would be blinded by the tarnished disc as he watched his section of the beach. He took his job seriously and he was proud of it.

Eventually the beach was still. He checked his cell and saw that it was just after five. He was on duty until six-thirty, right before the sun would start its slow slink back toward the western edge of the sky.

It was just him, the gulls, an old man with the metal detector making hopeful passes at an area where a crowd of tourists had been sitting earlier and a couple walking hand in hand through the creaming surf.

The couple headed into the fading rose and gold sunlight and the old man gave up. The gulls drifted toward the pier and its promise of spilled food. It was just him and the beach. Twenty minutes more and he'd be on his way to a local burger joint for a quick bite to eat then home.

A woman appeared, walking toward the waves. Her white dress clung to her tall and curvy body and he swallowed hard. Her hair was a deep ebony, hanging far down her back. The wind pushed it to one side, revealing the creamy golden column of her spine showing above the two halves of her fluttering dress. A single circlet of gold rode her upper arm and her full ripe bottom pressed against the fabric of the dress. Jon swallowed hard as she turned, her eyes scanning the sands. He knew the pocket of shade and shadow that had just fallen hid him from her view and he opened his mouth to call out to her, to tell her that he was there and not to be afraid but before he could she reached up, into the bodice of the dress and began to pull it down slowly.

The bathing suit was scandalously small. The two tiny triangles of a pristinely white fabric barely covered her nipples and exposed much of her breasts. The bottoms—his eyes widened and he flushed as he realized exactly how small they were.

A mere scrap. Barely enough to cover her lower body. Golden skin glowed from the sides of it and he had to remind himself to breathe as she turned to reveal that it was not just small, it completely revealed the entire back of her body. The thin material could not even be deemed a thong; it was closer to a G string in appearance. The white shone and contrasted with her body's hue, the little thread holding it right above the firm and lifted swell of her ass was a sight he had to see.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. The resort closest to where she stood was filled up and so were many others along the beach. How many men were staring out at her right now with their cocks hardening and their hearts racing?

Plenty. He was sure of it. She let the dress flutter to the ground and then she put the sandals she wore on top of it to hold it in place. Her ass lifted and fell as she headed for the water, her hair swinging enticingly over her bottom. The waves rushed to meet her and his cock stood at stiff attention.

Water hit her body. The sun struck a single beam in her direction. The lonely call of a single bird riding the air currents above and the crash-boom of his heart beat, of the waves, were the only sounds. She danced in the waves, spinning a few times, arms out stretched. He was sure she was a vision, a vision of a Goddess.

Jon couldn't stand it. His cock literally throbbed. He reached into his lap, rubbing furtively in an attempt to simply ease the pressure, his eyes still fastened on the woman. Is wasn't just that bikini, there was something about her. The way she moved, the confidence she displayed.

His hand stayed on his cock. He couldn't help it. The flesh throbbed below his fingers and he gave it an experimental tug. The pulse that came back from the shaft made him shudder all over. His hand went upward, to his waistband. His cock filled his hand as he watched the woman walk through the waves and kick her feet up high. That made her legs flex and loosen in a way that sent shivers racing along his spine. His fingers gripped the shaft of his dick, squeezing rhythmically.

The pressure felt good. His ass cheeks tightened and his breath stilled then became hard and fast. His fingers formed a loose fist and he stroked upward gently then squeezed hard when he reached the blood engorged head. His balls immediately tingled. His eyes stayed on her.

That sight seemed to be an invitation. His hand pulled faster at his prick. He could imagine sliding that hard length right between those ass cheeks, nudging aside the strip of fabric and sinking deep into the hot and tight depths just beyond them.

His breath got lower and more ragged. His hand worked faster. She went to her knees, digging for shells in the sand. A faded rose-tinted finger from the sun stroked along her back. Her hair swung sideways, revealing her spine again. His cock, inside her. Her knees in that sand.

His ass rose off the chair slightly. His fingers stroked faster. He stopped for a moment to grab the bottle of sunblock nearby. It met his hand, cool and slick. He stroked his hand along the shaft and then he squeezed harder. His balls moved upward. His eyes shuttered and he snapped them open again.

He released his hand and cool air hit the trembling stiffness of his cock. His fingers went back to the head and he rolled his thumb across it, drawing out the pleasure as she stood again and turned around. She couldn't see him, he knew that, but he had an uneasy feeling that she could, and that she had known the whole time that he was there—and what he was doing.

Her hands went to the top. Her fingers moved. Her bare breasts tumbled out. His breath caught. His fingers fisted his cock again. His toes curled as she stroked her hands up the underside of her breasts, her eyes going over the top of the lifeguard station to the resort.

Was she watching to make certain she wasn't seen? Performing for yet another man up there gawking at the lush curves of her magnificent body?

For some reason that thought—that she knew he was there, that he wasn't the only one holding his cock and rubbing it in a bid for relief—just turned him on even more. A few drops of fluid slid from the top of his cock and he used those oils to lubricate his hold even further. Her fingers traveled along her tits, pinching and stroking.

"Please" he muttered below his breath, "Please touch yourself."

Had she heard him? He knew she hadn't. The surf was too loud and the wind blowing now too. But she did it. His gasp was a loud point of sound. His cock trembled and shook with the force of the orgasm he was holding back, but just barely.

She turned again. Her hands traveled long her waist, slowing down as she reached her butt. She stroked her body. The dusk had set in, coating her with dark shadows but just enough light hun for him to see her hands slowly stroking and caressing her ass, not just the outer edges either, the full slopes and then she bent down again.

His fingers stilled as he strove to hold back the orgasm. He took a few breaths and tried to focus on anything but her.

He looked back just in time to see her stand upright and then she tugged at the bottoms. Her hands lowered them slowly. It was too dark for him to actually see her pussy but he could imagine it, full and ripe, gleaming wet and pink.

He could fuck her right then. Keep her open and spread for him just like that. He could hear her voice in his ear, begging him to fill her up, to fuck her harder and faster.

His hands moved faster as she strode back into the water and flung her nude body atop a wave, riding it hard just like he wanted to ride her. His cock began to spasm. He stopped, swallowing hard as he realized just how close he was to coming.

His fingers went to his nipples. He tugged and pulled at them gently, imagining his mystery woman's mouth closing around them and sucking hard before that head of hers moved to his cock. He could feel the silken feel of her hair in his hands, the heat of her mouth, her pussy, all of it.

She made it back to the shore. She stood there, sleek and wet and ripe. His hand couldn't be still any longer. He pumped his cock hard, pounding at it furiously as he arched his ass upward, the chair rocking below him. His teeth clenched, and his ass muscles did too.

"Yeah, come on baby fuck me. Fuck me right in my hot wet pussy. You know you want me." The words were all in his head but he didn't care. They could have come from her mouth.

He shivered as he worked harder and faster, his fingers clutching and pulling and his hot hand causing a delicious friction along the length and width of his aching meat.

He came. Hot sticky semen spurted from the head of his cock, spilled upward onto his belly and then ran down his hand, which was still beating his cock. The cum just served to excite him even more and make the feel of his hand against that skin even more exciting. He milked another blast of heated seed from the head, and let it fall. His jaw went tight as he kept going while she stood perfectly still like a magazine model, like a centerfold come to astonishing life.

His cock finally collapsed. He slumped into the chair, his eyes wide and stunned. On the beach his masturbation muse began to pick up her clothes. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

The dress went up over her head then smoothed down across her body. The white of it was a stark contrast against the darkness creeping ever closer.

She began walking. Jon hastily stuffed his cock back into his shorts, grabbed a wipe and cleaned his hand. Her head never turned as she passed by the lifeguard stand. He thought he heard a soft chuckle break past her lips but he couldn't be sure.

He waited nearly fifteen minutes then slid down from the stand. He stood in the sand, looking toward the resort. Was she up there in one of those rooms? Taking a shower, lying naked across her bed? The footsteps muddling the sand were so many he couldn't ever know which were hers or which direction she had gone in once she had passed by the stand.

He started to walk toward his jeep.

"Hi."

The word halted his hand from turning the key in the ignition. He turned his head to see her, his sandy Goddess, standing not too far from the driver's side door of the jeep.

He swallowed hard. "Can I help you?"

She chuckled. "I don't know. Maybe you already did."

He gulped. "I beg your pardon."

Her smile was all white teeth and full lips. Up close she had a lovely face comprised of lean angles and a short nose. Her eyes, either blue or brown, it was too dark to tell which, went past him to the ocean then came back again. "I know you were there and I wanted to tell you I enjoyed that as much as you did."

He blinked. Should he lie? Her giggle was soft, girlish. "Here."

He stared down. The bottoms were in her hand, resting against the clean pink of her palm. "Um..."

"Take them. I'm leaving in the morning so I might as well leave a souvenir," she said.

He took the bottoms. She walked away. Jon stared after her. The bottoms, silky and small, rested on his hand. He brought them to his nose and the fragrance of her body blasted into his senses, making him hard all over again.

Jon tucked the bottoms into the pocket of his shorts, pulled a shirt over his head as protection against the wind and cranked up the old jeep, the headlights popped on and he began to slowly drive along the beach again.

Spring Break in Daytona wasn't what it used to be, true enough, but it was a good thing and summer was hard on its heels. He would be in that lifeguard tower all summer long and who knew what he might see out there on that sand that made him want to repeat that little one-handed encounter he had just had with himself.

It wasn't something he did often, and yet that had been some of the best sex he had ever had. His grin just got wider as he pulled off the beach and onto the highway.

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