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I started as they do so, but the smooth soft rhythm just carries on. No words are spoken. I started to protest, but one of the hands covered my mouth - gently, but I was aware of an inner strength. The hand is removed, but only to continue the massage. I could feel my nipples arousing as the hands slid across my breasts again. The fingers just tweaked them through my bra, circling around them, making them more and more sensitive. Again I struggled against the ties, but there was no escape, I was held quite firmly as the hands drifted down the side of my body squeezing my breasts together. My ears were now attuned to the silence, and I realised there are small noises that I had not been aware of. The sound of someone breathing – more than one person. I turned your head toward the sounds but couldn’t see anything. Meanwhile those delicious hands were tracing along the side of my body. There was no rush, no sound, just the hands as they slowly slide lower and lower. I felt exposed,. I remember flirtatiously offering to rub sun block over them, to which one of them replied, “Thanks darling, but I’m afraid you would spread it where we really don’t need it.”But alas, it came to an end. They each gave me little peck on the cheek and then they were moving down the beach. I watched their hips swing and asses work for quite a while until I glanced to my right where Liz had been sitting. She had left her sunglasses, yellow plastic frames to match her swim suit. Well, that night I jerked off two or three times to the fantasy of getting the two of them alone in my condo.The next morning, I recalled that Liz’s husband was going deep sea fishing, that the other couple would be off to Pensacola, but not knowing what time all that would occur, I resisted the temptation to make my way to the east toward their condo. No Army Ranger on recon could have watched a beach with more focused attention, more tightly wound energy than me that morning. I prayed Liz would make her way.
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