The sun was a fuckin' blast furnace, beating down on the grassy bank of the Charles. I was splayed out on my towel, soaking up the rays like a lizard, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat rolling down my spine. I was wearing a new Euro bikini - you know, one of those tiny fuckers that barely covers your dick and leaves a lot of your ass cheeks out for the world to see. I'd seen them on Italian porn flicks, and fuck it, I wanted to feel that effin free.
Jesus, Gabs, what are you even doing here? I thought to myself, looking around at the other guys and babes scattered along the river. I'm not one for labels, but being a townie, I felt so fake with this classy, educated, and gay crowd. It was a well-known cruising spot, and I was just another piece of meat on display. I could feel their eyes checking me out, and I'll admit, it gave me a bit of a thrill.
But as time went on, I started to chill. Other dudes and chicks came and went, all oiled up and showin' off their tits and ass. I just became part of the background. Nobody gave a shit. Which was perfect.
Still, this little voice in the back of my head kept naggin' at me. What if someone sees you, Gabs? What if someone from back home sees you in this little bikini? I'd never hear the fuckin' end of it. See, the uptight world I grew up in, the one I pretended to live in? It wasn't me. Not really. This... this felt more like me. Even if it was scary as fuck.
I rolled onto my stomach, my cock pressin' against the towel. The sun was wicked hot, cooking me like a lobster, and my skin was slick with a mix of tanning oil and sweat. I could feel the sun baking my ass, and I couldn't help but wiggle it a bit, imagining the view from behind. Feeling slutty, I adjust the bikini to expose more of my ass cheeks.
I was watching the sailboats glide by, all fancy and shit, while I was just trying not to sweat my balls off. People-watching was way more interesting anyway. There were families, joggers, bikers, couples, and then... bam.
My eyes landed on these two hot little honeys walking by. "Jesus," I muttered, "wouldn't mind a taste of that." One of them, tanned, perky tits straining against her little running shorts... fuckin' A. She was wicked hot, built like a brick shithouse. My cock twitched. I could practically taste her, all sweet and sweaty. The heat was making me all lazy and horny. I closed my eyes for a minute, picturing myself going down on her, eating that sweet pussy until she was screaming. Yeah, that's the ticket. A real slut, just begging to be fucked. I could already feel my cum building up, thinking about burying my cock deep inside her. Fuck, I needed a cold shower. Or maybe... nah. Maybe I'd just find me someone to get myself some release.
When I came to after snoozing, I rolled over and reached for my bottle of water, taking a swig and pouring a bit over my head and my shoulders, letting it run down my back. I let out a sigh, running a hand through my damp blonde hair, enjoying the momentary coolness. What a fuckin' beautiful day, thought as I looked around. The river sparkled in the sunlight, the sky was nice and blue, and my cock was fuckin' throbbing.
I looked down at my body, taking in the tan lines and the way my muscles stretched and flexed. I wasn't ripped, but I knew I looked damn good. And in that bikini, I felt even better. There was a certain power in knowing that others were looking at me, maybe even wanting me.
Embrace it, Gabs, I told myself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. You're a sexy bitch, and you know it.
I rolled onto my back, stretching my arms above my head and closing my eyes. The sun was intense, but it felt good, like a lover's touch, caressing every inch of my skin. I could feel my cock stirring, responding to the heat and the thoughts running through my mind.
Down, boy, I thought with a chuckle. Not the time or the place. You can beat off when you get home and shower.
My mind, a dirty fuckin' mess, was swimming in a sea of sweaty fantasies. Pussies, tits, cocks -- the whole damn buffet was laid out in my head. I was so horny I could practically taste it. I drifted in and out of, picturing myself with some hot piece of ass. I imagined the weight of some dude's balls slapping against my ass, the hot breath on my neck as he whispered dirty nothings in my ear. Or maybe it was a chick, her soft tits pressed against my chest, her fingers tangled in my hair as she sucked my dick like a goddamn lollipop. The possibilities were endless in my slutty head, and they all had me squirming. I was a goddamn slut for it.
It was time to ditch this scene and head back to reality, or at least, my perverted version of it. I swung my legs over the side of the towel, stood up, and brushed off bits of grit. The afternoon breeze felt good as I stretched slowly, adjusting my body and putting on a show for the locals. The sperm in my balls was aching to be released. I needed to get home, get in the shower, and cool off.
Just as I bent down to pick up my backpack, I heard a familiar voice call out, "Gabby? Is that you?"
I turned to see an old college professa' of mine walking along with a couple of friends. He had that same easy style, even in shorts and a polo shirt. He and his friends were laughing, suckin' on popsicles, and enjoying the summer afternoon.
"Hey, umh... Mr. McCoy'," I stammered, feeling a rush of heat to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun. I suddenly felt self-conscious in my tiny bikini. The massive bulge at my crotch didn't help things much.
He smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Call me James, please. We're not in class anymore." He turned to his friends and said something in a low voice before coming over to me. "You look like you're enjoying the summer," he said, his eyes all over my body.
"Yeah, ya know, just c-catching some rays," I replied, trying to sound casual. My heart was pounding, and I could feel a bead of sweat trickling down my spine.
We talked a bit, and he ended it saying, "I need to get going." We said our nice to meet ya's and goodbyes.
As he was stepping away, he turned, saying "We're heading back to my place," gesturing to his pals. "Why don't you join us?"
I hesitated, my mind racing. This is crazy, right? I thought. But why not? "Uh, sure," I heard myself say. "That sounds nice."
Sounds nice. You sound like such a fuckin' townie, I thought to myself.
James went back and waited with his friends while I dressed. As they stood there talking, I would catch them throwing glances my way. Sometimes our eyes would meet, and we would exchange that awkward smile. You know the one.
Fuckin' A, I muttered to myself, tugging on these tiny cutoff jeans. They barely covered my ass, I swear. Like, one wrong move and everyone there was gonna get a free show. Great, I thought, just what I need with James and his crew eyeballing me like I'm some kind of... slut. I glanced over at them. They were definitely looking. James gave me a little nod and a smile, probably thinking, Oh, Gabby, still rocking the barely-there look, huh? Fuckin' Mr. McCoy. Now he's getting a view of my... well, everything. I pulled the cropped t-shirt over my head. It was so short; it left my bare stomach completely exposed. "Ugh," I groaned. I felt like such a fuckin' slut. I mean, I was just sunning myself in my tiny men's bikini, practically naked. But now, with James and his friends watching, it felt different. Like I was on display. I tugged at the hem of the t-shirt, trying to pull it down a little, but it was no use. "Fuck it," I whispered. "Just gotta own it." I grabbed my bag and joined him and his friends.
For whatever reason, his pals split when we hit Charles Street. You know, I felt much better with them gone. I mean, I could kind of be myself with the Mr. McCoy, but with them, I kind of felt like I was out of my league. You know what I mean?
We must of been an odd looking pair as we walked along, me, looking like a gay slut, and James, older, looking all L.L. Bean and shit. It felt like people were checking us out, making me feel uncomfortable. Shit, it seemed like James was also feeling uncomfortable. Was he embarrassed to be seen with me? Probably. I mean, look at me. Total trash. But he's the one who invited you over, Gabs, a little voice whispered in my head. He wants you. He wants your slutty ass. And that thought, that little sliver of hope, made my cock twitch in my pants. Anyway, in a couple a minutes, we were at his place, and we could relax.
"Can you take your sneakers off, Gabby?" he asked as we stepped inside. Saying, "I don't wear shoes in the house."
