Steven awoke to the sound of crashing waves complemented with a brisk breeze flowing through the glass louvers. It was vacation time for him and his wife and they were spending the week in Hawaii. He felt a twinge below–his cock yearned for attention. His hand found its way under his boxers and gave it a quick tug; it felt great and wanted more. He looked over at his wife who was sleeping soundly. Her breathing was rhythmic. He was glad she was sleeping, despite his arousal. She had been sick for the entire holiday. His hand, still in his boxers, started to stroke his cock. She started coughing and he stopped. He wasn't worried or embarrassed at what he was doing; he just didn't want her to feel bad about their lack of sex on the trip.
It was the last leg of a multi-stop trip that included several cities in Japan. Something she had eaten on her second night in Japan had made her sick and the stomach virus had lingered. Normally, vacations were raucous fuck fests for the couple, but this was not the case. They'd done it one time in Japan–the first morning–and that had been it. He wasn't a heartless bastard. He understood and felt compassion for her, but he also had an insatiable need which he'd supplemented through masturbation. It wasn't working anymore, and the bevy of scantily clad women did not help.
He decided to forego the pleasure, and rolled out of bed. His bones creaking as he stood up and stretched his back. A warm breeze fluttered in from the open shutters. The head of his semi-hard cock rubbed against the fabric of his boxers, sending a pleasurable sensation through his body. He glanced back at his wife again, pulled his dick out, and admired it. His hand wrapped around and he considered rubbing a quick one out. But he decided to wait and ambled to the bathroom for his morning routine.
He emerged feeling relieved. He'd read an article about Sea Life Park and brushed his teeth to get rid of his morning breath. His wife was still asleep and would be for a few hours so he decided to do what he'd gone there to do, and relax at the beach. After donning his swimsuit, he grabbed a large, colorful beach towel and headed out the door with the intent to laze away the morning, or perhaps the entire day, on the sand. As he closed the gate, he glanced down the small road toward the beach and noticed a woman in a chartreuse bikini walking toward the beach access. She had a towel over her shoulder and her phone in her hand. His eyes locked on her form as she sauntered down the paved road toward the narrow, tree-lined beach access. He liked the way her ass looked in the bikini bottom so he sped up to get closer.
His eyes soaked in the view as he stepped out onto the white sand of the beach. Shades of green and blue danced on the horizon as the waves crashed down onto the sand with a roar. The sky was as blue as blue could get punctuated by thick fluffy cotton-like clouds. Palm trees swayed in the wind. In the distance sat Rabbit Island. To his liking, the beach was deserted. Not too far from the access, the woman was bent over, laying out her towel. The heat inside of his chest was beginning to build; his cock twitched again.
Not wanting to be too obvious, he set his towel further down, but close enough to be able to glance at her. She put on suntan lotion and tied her auburn hair back, then sat down on her towel, watching the surf. Not thin by society's standards, he found her curvaceous form rather appealing. She had large breasts held up with a small bikini top. As she got up and removed her sunglasses, he strained his eyes, his libido yearning to see the subtle outline of her nipples, or the indentation of her labia. His blood was boiling; he was highly incensed, almost uncontrollably so. He knew this was from a lack of sex with another person, but it was almost disconcerting how this woman was affecting him.
He decided follow suit and headed into the surf. The water was warm and felt good on his feet and legs. Thanks to a tropical storm to the south, the waves were voracious and resulted in knocking him around. It felt good to frolic in the ocean as if he was a child again. His head swarmed with memories of doing the same many years before with his parents. Back then he was afraid of sharks but now all he was concerned with was stealing quick glances at her while she waded into the waist-high shallows.
After a while, he had had enough and slogged out of the waves. He looked for the woman, but she was not at her towel. A flash of bright green came from the right and he saw her tumbling in the sand, a large wave having had its way with her. He rushed to her and extended his hand. She grabbed it, obviously having a tough time getting her footing.
"Thanks," she said and walked back to her towel and plopped down.
"No problem; it's rough out there."
"Oh my God, no kidding," she replied with a smile. He quickly studied her form up close, seeing that the cold water had caused her nipples to harden. He initiated some small talk to get to know her better, but more so to linger without suspicion. Each of them were there for the same reason–vacation. She was married also, but he got the impression that her husband was a workaholic. Her comments about him were all negative and tinged with resentful references to emails and conference calls. She added the word "alone" to many of her recounts of what she'd done.
She laid her legs flat and leaned back. Steven's heartbeat increased at the close view of this perfectly curvy body. Underneath his sunglasses, his eyes darted from her face to her chest to her legs. His gaze lingered on the "V" between her legs, covered by her bikini bottoms. She had a tattoo of a rose on her hip. Her toenails were painted pink.
