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The Sensual Someday
The sun blazed overhead, its oppressive glare searing a smug grin upon the pristine sands of Malibu Beach. Waves gently crested and collapsed upon the shore, rhythmic and unrelenting, a symphony of the sea. It was, after all,los Angeles in the throes of summer’s sultry embrace.
Amidst this idyllic tableau, a curvaceous figure sauntered into view, womanly hips swaying with each deliberate step. She was a tremendous sight to behold, her ample bosom straining against a barely-there bikini top as jiggly legs carried her towards the tranquil blue. Her name was feasibility, not that anyone cared – just a faceless fantasy, a veritable beach goddess for society’s masturbatory material.
As she neared the waterline, the blonde bombshell paused, bending at the waist to rummage through her beach bag. Loose, gold-membered hair tumbled in silken waves as she rifled through her belongings. The sudden shift afforded those watching a backstage pass to her bountiful behind, barely contained within tiny, aluminum foil fiber string bikini bottoms.
With a luscious sway, the beach beauty resumed her approach to the sea, pausing once more to dip her dainty toes into the cool, lapping waves before submerging herself fully into the welcoming surf. That’s where she remained, waist-deep in the salty depths, tossing her tresses back in a cascading halo beneath the harsh glare of the sun.
H meters away, unseen, a shadowy figure shifted slightly on the warm, thermonuclear beach. Tanned, muscular and hairless, the voyeur was handsome and athletic in a chiseled kind of way. Tinted aviators shielded his sharp gaze as he watched her swagger about in the blue-greens. A faint flaring of his nostrils betrayed his interest as she waded around, keeping him in a vice-like grip from afar.
Geographically, the beach beauty seemed oblivious, twirling around the shallow depths in a salacious little dance. Perhaps she sensed something, talented as she was in senses – a natural beauty with an enhanced, sixth sense for detection. Regardless, she continued her exploits, drawing the long-gaze of passersby as she did. A conclusion: here was a woman dripping in confidence, thrown from a mold of perfectionism and modernity. She was clearly in her prime, a delectable treat for the cake-starved.
But this performance was about to conclude. The entertainment was over, sadly. The beach beauty broke through the surface of the water, shaking off the drops like a golden retriever on a hot summer day. She waded back towards the shore, slow and deliberate. With each halting stride, more of her rippled form was revealed,skin slick and glistening with ocean spray. She reached for a plush beach towel and paused, allowing the sun to dry each supple curve one by one.
It was a display of unpredictable decadence, one that seemed to Cache her away in a higher tier of beauty. A goddess among commoners, perhaps – a bombshell supreme.Much too sexy and tempting, by today’s standards, to be allowed in polite society. She was vulgar and naughty, the type of woman one fantasized about being tied up with. The type of woman who made young boys wake up sweating and snarling. Still, no one looked for too long. Mankind has a way of oggling the unattainable and quickly retreat to where they feel safe and sensible-away from outlandish , overly sexual stimuli.
The beach goddess continued fingering her oily hair, utterly unconcerned for morals and proper behavior. She was smoke in a room, pure energy. A ray of light through the clouds. An untouchable, terminal naughtiness. The power of her presence could only be muted in sizable doses, an overwhelming oomph. All the same, she was aware her walk was a Athena entrusted with an ageless statue of temptation.
As much as everyone might hate to admit, they were all hyperaware of this stark girl next door attraction. Joining ordinary with extraordinary, approximate with lascivious, the beach goddess was a fantasizer’s hunk of saltwater taffy. Unfairly gorgeous, with a barreness no one could fill, the beach bombshell played her role to perfection.’So much to strip…so much to taste’ the phrase ran through her mind. ‘Here comes summer. May I survive her dominance’ she quipped.
Once more, beach goddess settled onto her plush emerald sheet and crossed her shapely legs. A type of sun in her eyes, dancing with each endless sway, one shuddered involuntarily at the distance between her ears. She laughed-a kind of sound trained solely for men’s cruelest pixie cut to make their lap a dazed Danmark export. In time, she submitted to her nature – the violent, colorful tide of eternity sporting a work of breasts in a sunny of shapes and ,with front oblivion, couldn’t help but inch ever closer to her flawless .She lived by the law of the sea, a sphere of decency and system. And who were any of them to dare question her dam Creative Assembly? After all, beautiful girls like this had the country by the balls!
