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West Coast Games - Part One: The Beach

West Coast Games - Part One: The Beach

Leo falls for an irresistible surfer girl on a sun-soaked beach in Malibu.

She was an enigma on the Pacific Coast Highway, a she-devil as I would later learn, but springtime in California evoked a lazy naiveté in me. The golden coast was full of the promise of summer love affairs and casual encounters. There are the mind-fucks too, but nobody is thinking about the pitfalls and risks while watching the swish of a short skirt over tanned thighs and the smiles that invite you down that gilded path of sexual adventure. I was hungry for it, thirsty for the taste of sweet pussy, but also on the cusp of wanting to make important changes in my life.

I was looking for that that defining moment to make me want to put my trust and faith in a woman and stop playing games. Back then I was just as jaded as the next guy with a bit of emotional baggage in his closet. I was nearly thirty years old, with a laundry list of dead-end relationships and meaningless hookups behind me. A few more years at the pace I was going and I knew I’d be destined to become another Peter Pan guy on the player’s circuit, cruising bars, never growing up and always looking for the next big thing. In the meantime however, the closet romantic in me still held on to the boyish hope for something more. I guess you could say I was ripe for that crosshair collision with Roxy. I was looking for her just as much as she was gunning for me. And truth be told, I probably loved her at first sight.

The fringes of Surfrider Beach in Malibu are always peppered with bright convertibles, Jeeps and SUVs. It’s been a mixed crowd for as long as I can remember, a playground for the beach bums and bunnies, the wannabes, the people-watchers and the hot-dogging shredders. Further down the beach, you’ll find the old school soul surfers like my dad, when he was still alive. There was an easy rhythm to the beach culture. I’d been going since I was a kid and was accustomed to the ebb and flow. Pretty girls were a dime a dozen on the coast, but she caught me completely off guard the first time I saw her that previous summer.

There she was in that rusted out VW with faded aqua colored paint, worn just shy of being hipster cool again. She didn’t seem to care and that was part of her appeal. I was used to the kind of girls that were innately aware of the effect they had on men, while being completely self-conscious and insecure at the same time. She didn’t seem to pay any attention to the Barbies giving her jealous sidelong cut-eye or the LA tricksters trying to get her attention. She came with a single-minded purpose and that was riding the waves. Her board wasn’t anything fancy. It was as sun-bleached as her flaxen hair. In a way, I think I almost saw her in watercolors, like my mind was intentionally using a hazy Instagram filter. Everything is so much prettier through a filter though, isn’t it? It takes the edge off reality. It made me let my guard down.

Instead of remembering to keep my game-face on, I let myself drink her in, day after day. I watched her lithe catlike form on the board, admiring her tenacity. And fuck, did she ever have a gorgeous face. I was like a teenage boy with his first crush. My eyes lingered on the tempting swell of her small breasts, and the impossibly supple curves of her sandy calves as she walked the beach with a confidence that couldn’t be faked. She reminded me of a coltish Brigitte Bardot or some pretty young thing from a vintage Playboy magazine. She was pure candyfloss on my tongue from that very first taste in early May.

She had been a staple at the beach throughout most of the previous winter, when the usual crowds began to thin. Typically only the die-hard surfers remained, trading rash guards for wetsuits. Quite honestly, I hadn’t expected her to stay either. But there she was, like a shiny black neoprene seal, with those disarming mermaid locks, paddling her board out into the cold ocean. Yeah, I had her up on my surf girl pedestal. It was no secret, even among my buddies, that I was more than smitten. Obsessed, they had even called it one day as we lingered in the water on our boards beyond the break. I had developed this nasty habit of missing all the best waves while watching the glorious sight of her peeling down her wetsuit on the beach. Every inch of sun-kissed skin made me just a little more drunk off the fantasy of her that I’d built up in my head.

Sometimes I felt like she was feeding the obsession on purpose. There were occasional long glances in my direction and sometimes a half-smile hidden behind that that long golden veil of hair when I caught her gaze. It was those looks that got me hard and kept her constantly on my mind when I was away from the beach. She would pop into my mind at will, just before I’d fall asleep, during my morning showers and even at the office during those boring Monday meetings. It wasn’t just the physical appeal of her bronzed limbs, candy-apple breasts and heart shaped ass. It was in those eyes and that little tongue that playfully darted along the corner of her lips when I passed by, like in her mind my cock was already swelling in her mouth. Aside from her bona fide cool girl vibe, there was a sexual hurricane inside of her. I was sure of it.

“So fuck her,” my buddy Zane would say over late afternoon beers on a sunny patio. “You’ll regret it either way. You might as well enjoy the ride.”

“I won’t regret it.”

“Dude, I know her type. She’s trouble. I fully support you thinking with your dick – in fact you should probably do it more often – but nope, not with this girl. You’re way too into her.”

“I’m not,” I would lie, “I don’t even know her. I mean, yeah she’s hot, right? But I’ve had plenty of hot girls. It doesn’t mean I’m going to lose my head.”

Then it was Noah’s turn to chime in as he gleefully grinned at me, amused by my infatuation. “You’re gonna get played, playa!”

“By her? Not a chance. I’ve got my eyes wide open. You underestimate me, bro.”

Of course, it was all a big bluff, but it wasn’t just for their benefit. I didn’t want to admit any potential vulnerabilities to myself either.

“So then do it,” Zane would prod me. “For fuck sake, get it over with. How many swells are you going to miss this summer, distracted by a hot piece of ass? Talk to her!”

Confidence wasn’t my issue. The problem was that she was never alone. My dream girl came with her very own chaperone, and he always seemed to show up within the hour of her arrival. He wasn’t even a surfer, he was just there to supervise and protect his property. And he always seemed to look vaguely pissed. At the time, I’d attributed his irritation to her growing desire for attention whenever he was around, almost like she enjoyed provoking him. It was in the way she’d push the skimpy bottoms of her bikini down extra low over her hips. The way she’d untie the strings on her wet top and drop it onto the sand, relying on her bleached out tresses to immodestly hide her breasts before slipping a thin t-shirt over her head and pulling it down. She would toss her hair back so that beachgoers caught a glimpse of her braless swayback form, her nipples jutting out in the cool late afternoon breeze as the sun dipped low in the sky. I tried not to stare, but it was impossible. No wonder he was so intent on staking his claim on her.

And so it went on for months on end, the familiar tugs of lust awash with perpetual patience. There was the dance between us of barely acknowledged smiles, the scent of her Coppertone skin as she walked by me at the end of the day, always keeping me hungry.

Then one day, on an unseasonably warm weekend in early May, she was there alone.

I didn’t get my hopes up right away. After all, even the most dedicated jealous boyfriends have appointments to keep, or the occasional flu bug to fend off. Yet when I hung back from the guys, sitting in the sand to wax my board on that fateful afternoon, I noticed her again. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was a lithe silhouette on the sand, walking toward me as though she was emerging from the fireball of sunshine behind her.

She sank to her knees in front of me. “I’m Roxy.”

Fuck me, if she wasn’t even more perfect up close. After all the time I’d spent catching stolen moments of her attention, now my eyes could take in all the fine detail at leisure. I looked into pale green eyes, like tumbled sea glass, saw the pink cupid’s bow mouth and smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her hair was multiple shades of blonde, naturally streaked by the sun. It was messy and untamed and I immediately wanted to get my hands tangled in it.

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that she awoke a kind of primal sexual need to own her. I’m sure most guys felt the same way in her presence. There were plenty of pretty girls that inspired more protective or loving instincts in me. They often had a kind of pristine perfection that you were afraid of messing up. And then there was Roxy. There was nothing innocent about her smile. She was a self-styled lioness of a kitten. All of her girly attempts at casual flirtation did nothing to belie that because part of me knew she was playing a game from the beginning. The thing is, at the time, I didn’t care. She wasn’t the type to take it slow and I certainly wasn’t going to be cautious after all those unbearable months of wanting more.

“You like checking me out, don’t you?” she teased, watching my eyes skip along her sand-dusted legs.

“You noticed.”

“Sure. I’ve been noticing you right back.”

“To be honest, I would have introduced myself sooner,” I said with chagrin. “But I didn’t want to be that guy.”

“And what guy is that?”

“The kind that moves in on another dude’s girl.”

“Actually, I think it’s kind of sweet that you play by the rules,” she said, vaguely tugging on the strings of her seafoam green bikini. “So many guys are opportunistic. They don’t give a fuck. They’ll take it whenever they can. I hate being drawn to the bad boys but sometimes I can’t help it. They’re a terrible influence.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t say I was saint.”

“Neither did I,” she said. “I can be a bad influence too.”

I should have listened and taken those words of wisdom to heart. Instead all I saw was the doors swinging wide to welcome me in and tempt me with possibilities.

“As luck would have it, I’m on my own again,” she told me. “So you don’t have to worry about that conscience of yours.”


She nodded, flashing a knowing smile. I tried not to get too excited.

“Girls like you aren’t all that common to these parts.”

“Surfer girls?”

I shrugged. “Girls hitting waves like that in the winter months. You’re pretty dedicated.”

“Well, I came to the coast to play. I’m not going to waste all my time on dry land. I could have done that in Arizona.”

“Ahh, so there we have it. You’re not a native.”

“Not quite. But I was born with a mermaid’s tail,” she teased with a wink. “This just seemed like a better long-term fit for me.”

“So where are you staying?”

“With a friend. It’s just temporary though. I moved out of my ex’s place a few weeks ago. I have to get used to the single life again.”

And just like that, I already had an imperceptible fear of losing her, like a fish nibbling on a hook. I didn’t want to fuck this up. Girls like her wouldn’t last long with all the smarmy land-sharks around LA.

And speaking of sharks, there was Noah walking in from the surf, ready to crash my party for two.

Between the three of us guys, Noah was the natural lady-killer. He had also been the most critical of Roxy when I’d first started crushing on her. Swearing he was immune to her charms though, you’d never know it by the way he poured things on as the three of us lulled into an easy conversation about surfing and beach culture. She could keep up, and I knew Noah at least appreciated that. I was also grateful that he had finely tuned social smarts and was quick to sense when he was becoming a third wheel.

After predictably talking me up, he picked up his board and bag and gave us a half-wave salute.

“I gotta get home. You kids have fun.”

Beyond her, halfway up the beach, Noah turned to fist pump the air for my benefit, celebrating my assumed sexual victory. I suppressed my laughter, not wanting her to turn around and see his showboating. I’d come too far to blow it now.

Roxy and I talked a little more, and I was sure that I was gaining ground. I started flipping through my mental rolodex of Santa Monica hot spots, wondering if the LA scene was more her style. Dinner? No, that was lame. Drinks and sushi. Somewhere up and coming and not too obviously trendy. I was determined to play this just right.

She lay back on my beach blanket, propping herself up on her elbows. I caught myself unable to focus on anything but the dipping curves of her abdomen, and that patch of wet sand on her lower hipbone, just above her string bottoms. I could almost make out the outline of her sweet little slit. That seafoam fabric was damn sheer and I could swear I detected a distinct trace of moisture too.

Casually, she turned her head to the side, squinting up at me in the sun.

“Do you want to fuck me, Leo?”

Admittedly I questioned how to answer this. Had she noticed my wandering eyes? In my experience, blunt questions like that were usually a prelude to risking a slap or being read the riot act on being an insensitive asshole. And yet with this girl, feigning a moment of flustered surprise would have been the wrong way to go.

“You know I do.”

She smiled. “Wanna make a dirty wager?”

“Bring it on, girl.”

She nodded toward Zane, who was still nobly battling the choppy surf.

“What do you think of him?’

“Who Zane? He’s my buddy.”

“No, I mean as a surfer. He’s pretty good. He might even be better than you.”

I raised an eyebrow. Was she purposely baiting me? It should have been another red flag but I was already in too deep.

“The swells are heavy today,” she continued. “You think he can get in on one of the next three sets he tries to catch?”

“Nope. I think he wipes out.”

I had some inside knowledge, of course. Zane had always been more about the surf culture than actual surfing. The waves were total bombs that day and well beyond his abilities.

“Ok, so there’s our bet. If he drops, then you win. And I’ll fuck you. Right here, right now.”

She said it so casually that I was instantly hard.

“And if he makes it to shore?”

“Then I win. And you have to fuck me.”

With such propositions, I’ve learned that resistance is futile. And totally asinine. Of course, I agreed. Even as we shook hands, however, I wasn’t truly expecting her to go through with it. So many girls loved the tease, and I assumed it was just a play or a bit of verbal fun. Yet still, I was aware even back then that she’d imperceptibly flipped the switch. It wasn’t her on my hook anymore, it was me on hers. And I was a gluttonous fish, ready and willing to be reeled in.

We watched Zane chase waves for a while, trading sprightly comments like sportscasters at a surfing competition. Roxy was up on her knees, holding an invisible mic, flirtatiously hamming it up. I was throwing it right back, almost forgetting the implications of the bet. I found myself falling hard for her under the Malibu sun, just like a starstruck groupie. Her vivacious energy was infectious and despite being such a gorgeous thing, she didn’t take herself too seriously. I was so distracted by her that I’d barely kept track of Zane’s progress. Roxy always had her eye on the prize though, and she was quick to remind me that he was down to his last try.

And then she was pointing, laughing. “Look at that little scoundrel. Trying to drop in on that other guy’s wave.”

Zane was known for his bad surfing etiquette and this time ocean karma was going to catch up to him.

“Damn, he’s gonna get worked,” I smirked.

The wave was huge and it was controlling him rather than the other way around. The wipeout was spectacular. We watched him get pulled under and then pop back up, shaking his head and flipping us the bird as he noticed our hollering on the beach. Luckily Zane was the stubborn type and he hauled himself up on his board and paddled back out, throwing us a rueful glance.

Roxy settled back down beside me. I was trying to play it cool, but my heart was racing and my palms were sweating like a schoolboy.

“So… you win,” she said finally. Her grin was filled with mischief.

I watched her crawl toward me on her knees. Her hair was a golden halo, like my private beachside Lolita or maybe a Botticelli Venus from the sea. Fuck, she was a siren. I like to remember her that way, silhouetted against the blue skies of Malibu just before the promise of our very first kiss. Of all the girls I’ve had and would have, that image is springtime green in my mind. I’ve allowed nothing to fade those vivid hues. I remember the scent of saltwater on her skin and the grains of sand dusting her bare knees as they sank into my old blanket. They moved up to settle alongside my thighs as she straddled me like we’d already been lovers for years.

The presence of her nestled so easily into my lap was overwhelming. Her skin was warm to my touch as my hands moved over her supple legs and hips, discovering her inch by inch. My fingers slid along her lower back, feeling those toned muscles moving beneath them. Roxy's body was unbelievably fit and tight. And that face, that impish grin, knowing she had all the power in that moment and using it to keep me just slightly off balance in my approach.

Her lips pressed the corner of my mouth, her tongue darting out to tease mine even before we locked. Neither of us was coming up for air. I swore under my breath as my hands gripped the back of her head, damp salty strands ensnaring my fingers as I inhaled her, nearly devouring her. All my big plans evaporated. All my hesitations and fears caught on an offshore wind, taking them far away from that moment on the sand. I didn’t have to say anything, I was sure she could practically taste my desire for her.

“Wanna go back to my ride?”

“Nuh uh, that wasn’t the bet. I said right here,” she reminded me, placing her hand firmly on my crotch. My cock was snaking up toward my belly button and she was not shy about dextrously exploring it through my shorts.

“This is pretty out in the open." The last thing I needed was a citation for public indecency.

She just shrugged. “You need to toss away that rulebook sometimes, Leo.”

Right. Of course. Here was this gorgeous intoxicating thing offering to milk me dry with her cunt and I was acting like one of those insufferable nice guys, trying to talk her out of it. Lame. Thing is, for the most part I was a nice guy, and even outside of the practical implications, I partly felt like this was bordering on being too messed up. From the start, I’d had dangerously serious visions about this girl. I imagined myself having to work to earn that next moment with her. I had been prepared to bring my A-game, to impress and seduce her and ultimately to take my time. I hadn’t even bought her dinner yet and there was no alcohol to blame. This seemed rushed and unnatural. Maybe I should have seen it as a warning sign, and yet a beautiful girl with a sexual agenda is an irresistible thing. The blood was rapidly rushing to my cock and making any sense of logic impossible.

She positioned our boards tilted on their sides so that they formed a partial wall that seemed more like a cursory effort on her part to be modest. A beach bag and balled up towel did little more to hide anything. It was late in the day and the beach had mostly cleared out, aside from the more dedicated surfers, but it was by no means empty. Still, we hadn’t hit the busy summer months just yet and the easygoing characters left on the beach and the straggling locals probably wouldn’t bother making an issue of it.

In the end, I helped pull her back onto my lap. I ran my tongue along the curve of her neck, sucking her saltwater skin as she arched her body, pushing her breasts against my chest. One of her small hands slipped between us and she tugged at the drawstring of my board shorts, loosening it enough so that she could discreetly peel open my fly, freeing my cock. It was already hard, gripped in Roxy’s small skilled hand. Her warm tongue filled my mouth as she stroked with an expert little twist of the wrist. Seductress that she was, she paid no heed to the thought of anyone stopping us.

“You want to fuck me, don’t you, Leo? Tell me.”

“God, yes. I want to fuck you,” I murmured into her ear, inhaling her scent.

My hand slipped between her breasts, pushing the flimsy fabric of her string bikini top to either side. I looked down between us, my gaze taking in the sight of those stiff pale pink nipples on two modest mouthfuls of flesh. They were shadowed by the proximity of our bodies and the long tresses of her damp hair veiling me as my head lowered while she instinctively rose up on her knees. My mouth engulfed each nipple, sucking on them as I heard her breathing quicken. Her lips were near my temple and she urged me to bite and teeth them, all the while that nimble hand continued to attend to my throbbing cock.

I wanted to throw her down on the sand, heedless of the public display. I wanted to ply her body with my tongue and run it down her perfectly toned stomach and suck the curve of her hip bone and devour her pussy. The restraint of our actions, so secretive and discreet, only added a sense of hunger to the moment. My hands gripped her hips, twining in seafoam strings as my finger slid down the back of her bikini bottoms. I ran it along the delicious cleft of her ass before rubbing more firmly against that little puckered knot. I could even feel it tremble and pulse against my digit as I dared to push inside. I heard her moans and sighs as she began to gently rock back and forth until it was all the way inside.

“That feels so good, Leo,” she gasped. “Get it in nice and deep.”

As I worked that tight hole, she slid a hand down the front of her bikini bottoms, pushing her own fingers into her pussy. I could feel the additional tension it created, being double-stuffed with my fingers and hers. We found a rhythm together, moving them back and forth inside her. She seemed unconcerned about any unwanted attention we might have been creating, nor was I really. My eyes were trained on her beautiful face, awash with arousal. She closed her eyes and I watched her lashes flutter and the way her lips naturally formed a soft pout as we strategically rolled her toward her first orgasm.

There was a flush in her cheeks and her upper chest and she momentarily clung to me, seemingly almost breathless. I could feel her heart hammering against mine, and her fingers digging into the muscles of my upper back. Our foreheads pressed together, still locked in the moment.

“That was so good,” she sighed. “So hot. I can’t wait until you get inside me.”

She lifted her fingers, showing me how slippery and wet they were with her juices. She pushed them into my eager mouth, feeding that sweet wetness to me, letting me get a taste of her sex. I lapped at those fingers like a starving man, sucking them clean as she watched with a distinct sense of satisfaction. She was already enjoying the hold she had over me.

Say it,” she urged.

“I want to get inside you,” I moaned, but it was nearly a growl.

I could feel the cagey heat building between us.

“You wanna fuck my slutty little pussy?”

“Fuck, yes.”

If she’d asked me to swim the entire coastline and back, I would have done it gladly, just to feel those warm wet walls pulsing around my cock. But I had already won the bet and she was just as eager. I untied the left side of her bikini bottoms, impatiently pushing the fabric aside and catching a quick glimpse of her bare little mound. She was smooth and pink and perfect, just as I knew she would be.

The first time the head of my cock slid between those swollen lips, I thought I'd found a kind of sexual nirvana. She was juicy and slick and her vulva blossomed for me, welcoming me inside her as she wriggled her hips in a downward thrust. Soon I was in balls deep. That pussy was like a vise, tighter than any girl I’d ever had. It sheathed my shaft like a tight well-lubricated glove. Even without either of us moving, I could feel the little contractions, massaging my cock from the inside as I watched the almost imperceptible little tightening of her abdominal muscles. She leaned back just enough to let me enjoy the view. I drank in her tanned smooth skin, hard pink nipples and that lower pelvis that gave way to the gentle swell of her mound with my cock buried inside.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, baby,” I sighed, barely able to find the restraint to not just go off then and there.

“Can you feel that?” she whispered as her pussy gripped my cock.

“God, yes.”

Her eyes were alight with a kind of kinetic energy. “That’s how much I want you.”

I had to suppress a groan when she started moving up and down on my shaft, just enough to get a discreet rhythm going without looking too obvious. With her straddling my lap the way she was, however, it was probably obvious nonetheless. As luck would have it, we were tucked away on the upper part of the beach and most of the people that remained were more focused on the waves and lingering surfers. I saw a few strangers, just beyond her shoulder, take long glances at us, but I was past the point of caring whether we had an audience.

One person that wasn't trying to hide his staring at all was Zane. When I looked up, I saw him on his board, floating, barely able to take his eyes off us long enough to not look obsessive about it. Incredulous, he must have been, to see her riding me like that. He spread his arms with disbelief when I caught his eye and I signalled him to go back out and wait for the next set while Roxy continued riding me. He obliged, as I knew he would, giving us our space and privacy even though I knew he was dying to come ashore after spending that much time in the water.

“I want you to do filthy things to me,” Roxy whispered in my ear, quickly returning my focus to her. “You can put me on my knees, spank me, choke me and fuck my ass nice and hard. You can gag me with your cock as you fuck my mouth. I wanna deep throat all of you, suck your balls, tongue your ass, and be your dirty girl. I’ll do anything you want, every dirty perverse fantasy inside that head needs a nasty little surfer girl like me to bring them out, don’t you, Leo?”

And fuck. What could I say after that? How could I resist the kind of offers she made as she continued moving on my cock, milking me from the inside. Her hard nipples rubbed against my chest and her breath was hot in my ear as she told me things I’d never heard any girl say before. It got into my head, bred itself into my unconscious mind and drove out any sense of logic that remained.

I just pulled her down harder, shoving my fingers back into her ass and relished the sensations of my cock pulsing wildly on the other side of the thin wall of skin as she continued to grind on me. When she came for the second time, I savored the way her hot little pussy contracted around my cock. My hands ensnared in her hair as I gripped the back of her head and drew her mouth back to my own, undoubtedly bruising her lips with the overwhelming fervor I had for her.

“You’re going to be mine,” I remember telling her. Or at least that’s what I remember saying when the hedonistic fog had rolled in deep.

To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever had a more violent orgasm than that first climax with Roxy. It drained my balls, making me almost lightheaded as I filled her with copious amounts of cum. Even after the orgasm, when as my interest for girls often dissipated with fast one-night stands or chance encounters, I was still absorbed by everything about her.

I offered her a towel to clean herself up, but she refused, teasing my lips with hers and telling me she wanted to feel my cum inside her on the ride home so that I could fuck it out of her later on. I probably could have been hard again in minutes, but I fought to keep my cool. Relax, Leo. You don’t want to look over eager. Even so, I knew there was no way I would let her go after this. We had already made arrangements for her to come back to my house later that day by the time Zane finally wandered in from the surf.

He was grinning wildly, but Zane was subtle enough not to state the obvious. Roxy, however, was utterly shameless about it. She smiled at him with a little shrug.

“You must think I’m a little reckless.”

“Oh, you’re definitely trouble,” he teased. “Ask Leo. I said so from the start.”

Roxy threw me a glance, giggling. “Technically I’ve had my eye on him for a while,” she told Zane.

“Lucky guy.”

Roxy winked at me. “I think we’re in for a fun ride together.”

If I could have gone back to that first day on the beach at Surfrider, I would have played it all so differently. I would have pulled myself back onto the harsh shores of reality and not gone after her like the sweet spot on the inner crest of a wave. But I was drunk on her back then, intrigued by everything about her and all the things that made her so vastly different from any other girl I’d known. Roxy was an addictive sexual elixir and I wanted to have some more.

Back in my SUV, I was still riding on a cloud of arrogance and feeling like I’d conquered my female Everest. I still had to drop Zane off at his place, and he was rattling on like we were back in high school, eager for all the details. He seemed ready to give me my due credit for pulling off the stuff of player legends.

“Holy shit. You fucked her! Like really fucked her. I’m not sure I’ve seen daytime fucking at Surfrider before. Nicely played, Rockstar. After a full nine months of pining for beach pussy you finally closed the deal in like, what – an hour? So fess up, what did you say to her to get her that hot for you?”

“Fuck off. I have game,” I lied.

I actually enjoyed being a little pompous about it. That’s how we rolled, always trying to one up each other. I had known Zane since we were kids and he was like my big brother. It was in my nature to want to impress him and make the story bigger than it was. I embellished all the details, making it appear like I’d been the one to proposition her with the bet. I wanted to be King for a day, as juvenile as that sounds. Not to mention that it was in my best interests to downplay Roxy’s sexual savvy. I didn’t want to hear the run down of all the reasons why she was a slut and way out of my emotional league, which he inevitably would think she was. He would have looked down on her and cast her off as yet another California dime piece. I inwardly cringed when I revealed that she’d told me that she was a model ‘slash’ aspiring actress.

"Slash surfer girl, right," he’d laughed. “Bro, come on. We meet that breed in bars all the time. Have your fun but don’t get in too deep.”

Maybe he saw my clenched jaw or the steely way I stared out at the late afternoon traffic as an uncomfortable silence fell between us. I shouldn’t have cared whether he liked her, but I did.

“You know, you should try being a little more open-minded sometimes. Not every girl is out to fuck you over.”

“Look,” he said finally. “I’m the last one that’s going to try to burst your bubble today, OK. I know she’s been your big fantasy for months. And you know I’m a little jaded.”

When it came to Zane, being jaded was putting it mildly. Having grown up in a liberal environment where the idea of church was reserved purely for weddings and funerals, he still had the biggest ‘Madonna-Whore Complex’ of any guy I knew. According to him, there were the girls you dated and the girls you had fun with, and mostly he was only interested in the latter. It helped keep him sane, he’d told me. There were too many emotional headaches to deal with once you put your faith in a girl and gave her the power to break you. He figured that until he was ready to settle down, he was going to keep the turnover rate in his bed high and his interests free. Zane was not the type of guy who was ever going to understand my fixation on Roxy.

“She’s a cool girl,” I told him. “You just have to get to know her.” My voice trailed off as I realized that despite months of watching her from afar and our conversations on the beach that day, I really didn’t know her either. I wanted to believe I did though, and that our connection was profound and complete. That it was maybe even something as clichéd as fate.

“Leo, if she’s your girl, I’m stoked for you. Seriously. Maybe she’ll be good for you, yeah? I can concede that. For a while, anyway. I know you’re really into this one.”

And I was. Hooked, lined and soon to be gutted, like a fish off the Santa Monica Pier. But how could I have known that back then, when the heat between Roxy and I was so fierce. I hadn’t been away from her for more than hour and I was already missing her. I dropped Zane off and literally sped home. I threw the dirty laundry that had piled on the floor into the back of my closet. Then I quickly changed the sheets, put on my best tunes and began fixing martinis.

Admittedly, I was still worried about impressing her, but none of it seemed to matter to Roxy. She walked in, casually dropped an overnight bag on the floor and downed the drink in minutes. She hooked her fingers into the front waistband of my shorts and leaned into me, those intense green eyes of hers fixed on my helpless baby blues.

“Let’s fuck,” she’d whispered.

Sex with Roxy always overwhelmed in the best way possible. From day one, we were like two animals locked together, jostling for sexual supremacy until there were claw marks breaking the skin on my back and my mouth was full of her juices. They were those deliciously hazy first moments heralding an exciting new relationship. No drug can quite compare, can it? She was exactly what I needed. A dream girl that was just as insatiable in real life as she’d been in my fantasies.

Roxy didn’t go home that night, or even the night after that. I called in sick at work and shuffled projects off on coworkers. It was days before we even came up for air. We lay in that crumpled pile of sheets getting stoned, talking about shit we thought was brilliant and bonding. There’s nothing like getting high with someone, night after night, to lull you into a whole different kind of reality. There was no intelligent thinking involved when I officially moved her in either. I was running on flawed instincts.

Eventually we established our new kind of normal and set the pace for what life would look like together. I worked during the days and she spent her time naked in the kitchen, cooking my favorite meals. Steak and pussy. Fuck, how could any mortal man not love her? Every night I rediscovered those supple limbs and spill of blonde hair, transfixed by the way her ass moved as she ambled across my Spanish tiled floor, a joint dangling from her pretty lips.

Yeah, Roxy was foxy, as Zane and Noah would eventually admit when we hung out together at the beach.

It was late August by then, and she had long since ditched the wetsuit in favor of scandalously tiny bikinis that somehow managed to stay on despite her predilection to searching out the biggest waves to ride. She and I were still deep in our cohabitation bliss and I hadn’t seen any chips or dents in the fantasy just yet. She was still dangerously close to perfect for me. Occasionally I’d feel a bit of backlash from the guys about the rededication of my time and focus.

“I can’t believe you’re not sick of her yet,” Noah said. “This has to be some kind of new record for you. She must be something special.”

The three of us were hanging in place on our borrowed piece of the ocean, waiting for our turn at the next set of waves.

“Special, indeed,” Zane chimed in. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a crochet bikini function as serious surfing gear. Not a rash guard in sight. Damn.”

“The sex is off the hook,” I admitted. “Like scalding, really.”

“Scalding!” Zane laughed. “Bro, her pussy is like the Bermuda Triangle. We don’t see you anymore except for when you bring her along.”

“I know, I know... It’s just crazy hot right now. I’m sure it’ll chill down eventually. But I mean, you guys like her, don’t you?”

They both agreed amiably but I knew it was in a dismissive way and purely for my benefit. Maybe there was a genuine tinge of resentment there too. In a way, I had become just like her ex-boyfriend, constantly needing to share her space. Zane later joked that we had become codependent. I’d balked at first, but now, in the sobering light of standing in the present while looking back at the past, I can see his point of reasoning.

When it comes to relationships, enlightenment always seems to come with a hefty price tag. You’re never quite ready to read the buyer beware clause when you’re caught up in that irrational headspace of wanting to buy into something shiny and new. I didn’t want to read the fine print and risk spoiling the best time of my life. Instead, I let myself coast through another California summer, blissfully ignorant that there were dangerous curves ahead.

To be continued.

Copyright © 2014 Ashleigh Lake. All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the DMCA, this story may not be copied or reproduced, without the express written permission of the author.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright ©2015 Ashleigh Lake. All Rights Reserved. Under the provisions of the DMCA (Digital Millennium Copyright Act), this story may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author.

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