He was bronze-tanned from working on boats all summer. If the sun was out, his shirt was off. His normally dark brown hair weathered in the sun, the tips golden, the base of his hair faded. The nature of the work built the arm strength, and his past as a football (American soccer) player built an athletic frame with powerful thighs and a tight, trim stomach. For most of his youth, he was a skinny, short, average-looking kid.
As the girl at the desk stared out the window at him, he was different.
Larry was good at his job. A fishing guide, he was hired by wealthy individuals to help them catch large tuna from their sportfishing yachts. At the end of the day, they would offload their catch near the scales in front of the marina store, then Larry would load them up onto the fish cleaning tables and work his magic to reduce those sixty to ninety pound (30-40kg) tuna into neat collections of plastic sacks, ready for consumption.
Rosalie watched discreetly from the office window. As he bent to lift each fish, the muscles in his shoulders rippled, his buns tightened, and his arms flexed. Camille leaned on the shelf next to Rosalie, causing her to jump. “Mmmm, Mmm, Mmmm!. I know what you’re looking at! And I want some too!” Her whisper was loud enough that the other girls behind the register turned to look as well.
Cindy spoke first, “You think he knows what he’s doing out there?” Her question wasn’t about his fishing knowledge; it was about the view he was giving them inside.
Rosalie smirked and pulled herself away from the window. “Nah. He doesn’t have a clue! I would LOVE to see him in my bed!”
Camille jumped in, “Unh uh. I call dibs!”
The other three called out in chorus, ”You already got yours!” Cindy added, “Don’t be so greedy.”
Taking advantage of the lack of customers in the store, the girls turned it into a “horn session”, a frequent private discussion on what they would do with the given man of their affections.
“I bet his cock is as thick as his thighs,” Cindy said, practically drooling.
“Yeah, look how thick his fingers are. I can just feel him grabbing my ass and pulling me in.” Camille’s grin matched her horny tone.
Rosalie chimed in, “Every time he rubs my neck, I get wet, then I think about it as I lie there and picture those abs as he does push-ups on my belly.”
He bent to pick up another fish and wrestle it onto the table, and Michelle, usually not as bold, added, “That ass is to DIE for!”
Cindy moaned, “Ooooh. Come here and lay me on that table.”
Just then, the front door opened, and a customer walked in. The girls scrambled away from the window, fearing they had been caught lusting over their quarry. Rosalie was blushing because she had actually been pushing her crotch against the shelf. She was sure it showed on her face.
A little while later, finished with his work for the day, Larry found his shirt and pulled it over his head, then marched up to the store. “Hey, ladies, what did I miss in here today?”
The girls all nonchalantly answered different mumbles on the same theme, “Oh, not much.” Then they shared a knowing glance among each other, one that completely went over Larry’s head.
He took up his usual spot, leaning on the counter. Rosalie had been out straightening up merchandise while the other three were behind the counter. As she approached behind him, she teased the other girls by pretending to grab his ass and thrust her hips against him. The three cohorts all had to look away to hide their grins.
An hour later, they had closed up and moved to the bar behind the store. As was the custom, Larry was “working the kinks out” on the girls. Camille got to be first tonight, and she was wearing a spaghetti-string crop top. She had lost the bra and leaned forward on the bar. Given the short top, Larry’s hands were free to access her skin. The girls always remarked how soft his hands were despite his work. As his thumbs pressed firmly along her spine, his fingers worked the flesh along the sides.
Camille sat with her feet under her. As Larry’s pressure worked up towards her neck, her body rocked forward. As he slid his fingers down, her body rocked back. She positioned the heel of her right foot firmly against her crotch, the up and down pressure serving to rock against her clitoris. She hung her head low over the bar, her loose breasts also swaying with the motion, her nipples barely touching the loose fabric, sending pulses to her crotch as the cotton fabric brushed back and forth.
Low moans escaped her throat, which was pretty normal, but today she was picturing his tanned torso glistening in the sun, imagining he was hers. As the music played a dance beat rhythm, she began to rock harder to the tune. Her motions led his hands to follow the rhythm. His pace quickened to keep up. Her hips began to roll as she was immersed in the moment. She imagined his hands sliding around in front, that the sensations on her nipples were from his fingers teasing them. They hardened further, the pulses strengthening.
Larry’s hands were good at sensing what was wanted, but ah, if he only really knew! He loved when the girls “got into” his massages, and he pressed deeper with his fingers. He turned his hands over and drove the fingers down her spine, sliding under the waistband of her shorts, kneading the soft flesh at the top of her ass. Her moans increased in intensity. He knew he was doing something right.
Camille rocked a little harder into her heel, hanging on to control by a tender thread. She wanted to release right there in the bar, and the fact that she couldn’t (or risk embarrassment) only built the sexual tension. She pictured his nearly hairless chest, his golden abs, the thin dark line of hair leading down from his belly button, then those puppy dog brown eyes.
The beat of the music increased. Camille followed with the rhythm, and Larry kept up. Camille’s head started to sway a little, and Karen, the bartender, tilted her head like a confused dog. Then her mouth opened wide with a big grin. She tapped the bar gently in front of Rosalie to get her attention, then nodded in Camille’s direction. Camille and Michelle sat to Camille’s left and had been looking at each other as they talked, ignoring their friend’s back rub. Rosalie turned and immediately let out a laugh. She banged Michelle’s knee and directed her to look too.
Right there, in the middle of the bar, with ten strangers standing around, Camille was in the final throes of fighting off an orgasm. Larry was oblivious to what was happening, beyond the fact that he loved running his hands over fresh skin. His hands, continuing their circuitous route, dipped below the waistline once again. Camille tensed up. A chirp, like a high-pitched hiccup, escaped her mouth, and her head snapped up. A few people around looked her way, wondering what that strange sound was, and Larry paused. For a moment, he thought he had hurt her. He leaned forward, peering around her shoulder, and said, “You okay?”
Camille’s eyes were half rolled into her head, but straightened out with his query. “Oh yeah. Sorry, just a bit ticklish there.” She straightened up all the way, signalling she was done. Immediately, Rosalie snapped her hand across Camille’s knee and glared at her with a half-hysterical, half-amazed look. Then looked up at Karen and in a low voice said, “Um. I think I’ll have what she’s having!” And the two shared a private moment of laughter as Camille’s face turned bright red.
Karen poured Larry’s favorite drink and pushed it in front of him as he slid into the space between Rosalie and Camille, “This one’s on Camille,” not even waiting for him to order.
