Blueballs At The Beach House - 4

The beach stretched wide and empty in both directions. A few families clustered near the lifeguard tower a quarter mile south, their umbrellas like little candy dots against the sand, but this section belonged to the Coleman women and their rented stretch of paradise. Katherine had the grill smoking on the deck already, tongs in one hand, gin and tonic in the other, her laughter carrying down across the dunes every time Julia said something about the marinade. They'd come back from the store with four bags of groceries, two bottles of white wine, and a watermelon so big Julia had to carry it against her hip like a toddler.

Robbie knelt in the sand beside his cousin.

Jessica lay face down on the oversized beach towel she'd spread out with theatrical precision, smoothing every corner, adjusting it twice, fussing with the edges until it lay flat and centered. Then she'd peeled her sundress over her head and let it fall into the sand and stood there in the white string bikini. The one from the bedroom. The one she'd told him would go see-through when wet. It covered less than he remembered. Two triangles of fabric strained across her breasts, the strings cutting into the tanned flesh of her hips. The back. God, the back. A single white string bisected her ass and disappeared between the round halves of it. She might as well have been naked. She was naked for all practical purposes. She just had some string on.

She'd dropped onto the towel with a satisfied sigh, wiggled her hips until her body settled into the warm sand beneath the fabric, and then turned her head to look at him with one green eye squinted against the sun.

"Robbie, be a sweetie and put sunscreen on my back? I burn so easily. Especially my shoulders. It's a curse."

From the deck, Katherine's voice floated down. "Good idea, Jess! Robbie, make sure you get her shoulders, she always peels there."

"See?" Jessica wiggled her feet. Her toenails were painted coral pink. "My mom literally just told you to do it. It's like a family obligation now."

Robbie picked up the bottle of sunscreen. His hands left damp prints on the plastic. SPF 50. Coconut scented. He squeezed a ribbon of it into his palm and the cool white cream pooled there and he stared at it and his cock twitched against his thigh. Already stiffening in his swim trunks.

He was wearing the navy blue trunks. Looser than the basketball shorts. He'd chosen them specifically because they wouldn't show. Jessica had looked at them when he came downstairs and said "Smart choice, but it won't help" and she'd been right. Nothing helped. He'd been half hard since she left the bedroom, and the walk down to the beach behind her, watching her ass flex and bounce with each barefoot step through the sand, had pushed him the rest of the way.

He put his hands on her shoulders.

Her skin radiated heat from the sun. Smooth. Taut over the muscles beneath. She worked out. He knew this from Instagram posts he'd scrolled past too quickly, afraid his mother would see him staring at his cousin's gym selfies. But now his hands confirmed what his eyes had always suspected. She was firm under the softness. Athletic. Warm to the point of being hot. He rubbed the sunscreen in, both thumbs working the white lotion into her golden skin, and it turned her shoulders glossy.

"Mmm." She rested her chin on her folded hands. "That's nice. You have good hands, cuz. Strong."

"Thanks."

"Shoulder blades too. I get burned there all the time."

He moved lower. Dragged his palms down the planes of her shoulder blades, the ridges of them shifting under his fingers when she breathed. The sunscreen left a slick trail. His thumbs traced the channel of her spine. He could feel the individual vertebrae. The knobs of bone beneath silk skin. She smelled like coconut now, mixing with whatever perfume she wore, something warm and floral underneath.

"Lower."

He moved to her mid back. Still safe territory. Still technically a normal thing a cousin would do on a beach. His fingers spread wide, covering as much skin as possible, and the lotion squelched between his palms and her body with a wet, obscene sound.

"Lower, Robbie. My whole back. Come on, don't be shy about it."

His hands slid down past the small of her back. The terrain changed. Her waist narrowed and then flared, dramatically, into the swell of her hips. His fingers hit the thin string of her bikini bottoms where it crossed her lower back, and he paused there, right at the border between cousin territory and something else.

"I said my whole back." Her voice dropped. Quieter now. Just for him. "All the way down."

He looked up at the deck. Katherine had her back turned, flipping something on the grill. Julia was arranging plates on the outdoor table. Neither one looking this way.

His hands slid lower.

Over the curve of her ass.

The white string that ran between her cheeks pressed into his palm like a dividing line he was crossing, and her ass was full. Firm. Each cheek fitting his hand perfectly, the flesh warm and yielding, the sunscreen making everything slippery. He rubbed the lotion in. Circular motions. His thumbs grazed the cleft between her cheeks. His fingers curled around the outer edges, squeezing without meaning to, and her skin was so smooth it felt unreal, like she was made of something better than skin.

Jessica let out a low, pleased sound. "Mmm. Yeah. Get all of it. I burned my ass last summer and the peeling was disgusting."

His cock was fully hard now. Rigid. Pressed against the mesh lining of his trunks at an angle that trapped it against his hip. He could feel the wet warmth of pre-cum already, that familiar leak that he couldn't control, soaking into the mesh and spreading.

"I can see your cock from here, you know." She turned her head. One eye peered at his crotch from her folded arms. "It's totally tenting your trunks. Can everyone on the beach see your boner right now? Do you think the people by the lifeguard tower brought binoculars?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying. Your dick is making a pretty visible bump in those shorts. If my mom looks down here she's gonna think you're smuggling a banana." She pressed her lips together. Holding back a laugh. "A medium sized banana. The biggest one in the bunch but definately noticeable."

"Can you just." He squeezed more sunscreen. His hands trembled. "Can you just let me do this."

"You're the one with a boner. I'm just laying here. Being a good cousin. Getting my sunscreen applied. Very wholesome."

He finished her lower back and sat back on his heels. His cock strained against his trunks, the head pushing the fabric out in a distinct ridge, and when he glanced down he could see the faint dark circle where pre-cum had already begun bleeding through. Blue fabric going navy. Spreading.

Jessica rolled over.

The movement was slow, deliberate, her body turning like a rotisserie. One shoulder up. Hip rotation. Then she was on her back and the full geography of her body spread out beneath the sun. The white triangles of her bikini top had shifted in the turn, and her left breast sat exposed, the edge of a pink areola peeking out from under the fabric. She didn't adjust it. Her stomach was flat and tanned, a tiny diamond belly piercing catching the light. Her legs stretched out long, ankles crossed, and the front of her bikini bottoms clung to the shape of her pussy in a way that left nothing to wonder about. The mound of it. The slight indentation where the fabric pressed between her lips.

She looked up at him. Green eyes. Sun freckles. That grin.

"Chest now." She tapped her sternum. "And don't be gentle. I like firm pressure."

His hands hovered over her breasts. Just hovered there. Covered in sunscreen. Dripping with it. He could feel the heat rising off her skin like a stove.

"Jess. Your mom is right there."

"And she's fighting with the grill, look at her. She'll be fighting with that grill for the next twenty minutes, she always puts too many coals in." Jessica reached up and grabbed his wrist. Pulled his hand down. His palm made contact with the upper swell of her left breast, the skin impossibly soft, and she pressed his hand flat against her. "Sunscreen. I need protection from the sun. It's a health thing. Skin cancer runs in families. You're literally saving my life right now."

His fingers curled. The sunscreen squished between his palm and her breast. The flesh yielded, giving way under his hand, heavy and warm and real. Real. On a screen. In a magazine. His cousin's tit in his hand, heavy with its own weight, the nipple pressing into his palm through the thin white fabric.

"There we go." Her eyes fluttered half shut. "Rub it in. All over. Don't miss any spots."

He used both hands. Because that was the reasonable thing to do when applying sunscreen, right? Both hands. For coverage. For even application. His left on her left breast, his right on her right. The white lotion coating her cleavage, filling the valley between them, and he rubbed it in with slow, circular motions. His thumbs bumped across her nipples. They hardened under his touch. He felt them stiffen through the bikini fabric, going from soft nubs to stiff peaks in seconds, and Jessica inhaled through her teeth.

"My nipples are super sensitive. They burn so easy. Make sure you really get them."

He rolled his thumb across her left nipple. A slow pass. The little bud caught on the pad of his thumb and she sucked her lower lip between her teeth and her back shifted on the towel. An arch. A settle. A press downward and then a release.

"Harder. I have really dense breast tissue, the sunscreen needs to really penetrate."

That wasn't how sunscreen worked. They both knew that. He pressed harder anyway. His fingers sank into the flesh, kneading now more than rubbing, and her breasts were so big his hands couldn't contain them. The excess spilled between his fingers, the inner curves pressing together when he pushed inward, the outer curves bulging over the edges of his palms. She was oiled up and gleaming, the coconut scent thick between them, and the white fabric of her bikini had gone translucent where the lotion soaked through. He could see her areolas now. Pink. Wide. Puckered with arousal, the nipples standing up like little erasers, and the bikini top was basically useless. Decoration.

He kneaded. Rubbed. Spread sunscreen over the full surface of both breasts, lifting each one slightly to get the underside, and when he did that Jessica let out a little noise. A moan. Smaller. A catch. A hitch in her breath that she covered by clearing her throat. But he heard it. And his cock pulsed so hard in his trunks that a fresh gush of pre-cum squeezed out and the wet spot spread another inch.

Five minutes. He rubbed sunscreen into his cousin's tits for five minutes on a public beach while their mothers prepared dinner thirty yards away. His cock throbbed the entire time. Every heartbeat sent another wave of heat into his groin, another dribble of clear fluid leaking from the swollen tip. His trunks were losing the battle. The wet patch had grown to the size of his fist, dark against the blue fabric, and his erection hadn't softened for even a second. The mesh lining scraped against the sensitive underside of his cock with every small movement and that contact, combined with the sensation of Jessica's breasts under his hands, pushed him into a state he'd never experienced before. Close to orgasm, exactly. Far from it. Floating in a space between aroused and destroyed where everything was too much and everything wasn't enough.

When he pulled his hands away, they were shaking.

Jessica sat up. Adjusted her bikini top with a casual tug, tucking her areola back behind the triangle of fabric. Looked at his crotch.

"Oh wow." Her eyebrows went up. "That's alot of pre-cum, cuz. Your shorts look like you waded into the ocean crotch first."

He grabbed a towel and pulled it over his lap. His face burned. His cock burned hotter.

"Relax. Nobody can see from up there." She jerked her chin toward the deck. Then she leaned back on her elbows, her sunscreened breasts thrust forward, the nipples still visible through the damp white fabric. She spread her legs slightly. Looked at him. Green eyes calculating something.

"Okay. So. I'm gonna return the favor now."

"What?"

"You did something nice for me. Sunscreen. Very considerate. Very cousinly. So I'm gonna do something nice for you." She lay back down on the towel. Flat on her back. Knees bent, feet in the sand. "You're gonna sit right there and watch me."

"Watch you what."

She slid her right hand down her stomach. Over her belly piercing. Past the waistband of her bikini bottoms. Her fingertips pressed against the fabric, and he could see the ridges of her knuckles through the thin white material. She cupped herself. A slow, possessive grab.

"I'm gonna make myself cum while you watch. And you're not gonna touch yourself. Through your shorts. Adjusting. Your hands stay on the sand and your eyes stay on me. If you touch your cock, even once, even for a second, you lose." Her fingers began to move. A slow circle over the front of her bikini, pressing the fabric into the shape of her pussy. "You're gonna watch me get off on this beach thinking about your cock and you're gonna sit there with that big wet stain on your shorts and deal with it."

"Jess."

"Rules are rules. Hands in the sand."

He put his hands in the sand.

She started slow. Just her fingers tracing circles over the fabric, lazy loops that made the white cotton shift and pull and reveal the faintest outline of her slit underneath. Her breathing stayed even. Controlled. Like she'd done this before, here, maybe outside, and she'd practiced this. The art of touching herself for an audience.

Her hips rolled. A subtle movement. Barely visible unless you were sitting eighteen inches away with a view straight between her parted knees. Her bikini bottoms creased and wrinkled under her working fingers. She pressed harder. The fabric dimpled inward, sinking into the groove of her pussy, and the outline became unmistakable. Two soft mounds of flesh with a narrow channel between them, and her finger riding that channel in tight, focused circles.

"Oh my god." Her voice came out dreamy. Distant. "This feels so good. The sun on my skin and your face right now, cuz, your face is priceless."

His hands dug into the sand. Grains pushed under his fingernails. His cock was so hard it ached in a way he'd never experienced, a deep, pressurized throb that resonated in his balls and up through his stomach. He could feel his heartbeat in it. Could feel the pre-cum still flowing, that constant, humiliating drip that he couldn't stop.

She slipped her hand inside her bikini.

Her fingers disappeared. The white fabric tented and bulged with the movement of her knuckles. She was touching herself directly now, skin on skin, and the rhythm changed. Faster. More precise. Her index and middle fingers working together in a tight flutter over her clit, the motion visible through the thin cotton like watching someone play piano under a bedsheet.

A wet sound. Faint. Barely there under the crash of waves and the distant scream of gulls. But he heard it. The slick, liquid sound of her fingers sliding through arousal. She was wet. Soaking. He could see the fabric darkening between her legs, a bloom of moisture spreading outward from the center, and the sight of it hit him like a punch behind the navel.

"You wanna know what I'm thinking about?"

He couldn't answer. His jaw clenched tight. He nodded.

"I'm thinking about your cock." Her fingers moved faster. The wet sounds grew louder. "I'm thinking about how hard it was when I was holding it in the car. How much pre-cum you made. I've never felt a guy leak that much. It's like your cock is crying because it wants to be inside me."

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Her chest rose and fell faster. The glistening skin, the sunscreened breasts, the stiff nipples poking through the wet white fabric. She was a painting. A filthy, obscene painting lying on a beach towel in the afternoon sun, touching herself, and he had to sit there and watch and touch himself and it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

"I'm thinking about how your cock would feel in my mouth." Her voice had changed. Breathier. The valley girl cadence softened by arousal into something slower, thicker, like honey being poured. "Would you even last? If I wrapped my lips around it? I bet you'd cum in three seconds. I bet the second my tongue touched the tip you'd just explode."

Her hips rose off the towel. An inch. Two. Grinding up into her own hand, chasing the pressure. The muscles in her thighs tightened, the tanned skin going taut over lean definition, and her feet pressed into the sand for leverage.

"I can see your cock right now. Through the towel. It's twitching." She looked at him. Her eyes were heavy, pupils dilated, the green irises dark with lust. "I can see the vein. The big one on the underside. I wanna lick it. Wanna feel it pulse in my mouth. I'm gonna make you cum. I'm just gonna make myself cum thinking about it."

He was vibrating. Every molecule of his body pulled tight like a wire about to snap. His cock strained against his trunks, the head brushing the damp mesh lining with each involuntary twitch, and each brush sent a spark of sensation through him that made his stomach clench. He could cum from this. He could feel it. The orgasm was there, hovering just outside his body, waiting for one more stimulus. One more word from her mouth. One more glimpse of her fingers moving under her bikini. It wouldn't take much. The edge was right there.

He dug his hands deeper into the sand. Grains packed under every nail. He focused on the discomfort. The scrape of sand. The sting. Anything other than the girl lying two feet away, fingers buried in her pussy, moaning his name on a public beach.

"Oh fuck." Her back lifted. An arch. A curl. Her stomach crunched, abs visible, and her hand moved frantically inside her bikini, her wrist rotating, her fingers making sounds that even the ocean couldn't fully mask. "Oh fuck, Robbie. Oh my god."

He watched her face. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her mouth opened. The sun lit the fine blonde hairs on her arms, turning them gold. Sweat glistened in the hollow of her throat. Her chest heaved, breasts bouncing with each rapid breath, the damp bikini doing nothing to contain them.

"I'm so close." Her free hand grabbed the towel. Bunched it in her fist. "I'm so close, cuz. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum right here on this beach thinking about your fat, leaking cock. Tell me it's hard. Tell me."

"It's hard."

"Tell me you wanna cum."

"I wanna cum. Fuck. Jess, I wanna cum so bad."

"Too bad." She laughed. A ragged, broken laugh that dissolved into a whimper. "Too bad, Robbie. You can't. You don't get to. Only I get to. I'm the one who cums and you're the one who watches and leaks and aches and that's how this works."

Her hips bucked. Once. Twice. Three times in quick succession, fucking up into her own hand with a desperation that made the towel bunch and slide on the sand beneath her. Her thighs clamped together, trapping her hand between them, and she rolled onto her side slightly. Facing him. Eyes open now. Looking at him while her orgasm hit.

She came quiet. Because she had to. Because their mothers were thirty yards away with a grill and a watermelon. But he saw it. Every second of it. Her pupils blew wide, the green swallowed by black. Her mouth formed a perfect O. Her stomach muscles fluttered, rippling under the tanned skin, visible and involuntary. Her toes curled in the sand. The tendons in her neck stood out, taut cords that trembled with the effort of silence, and a single, strangled sound escaped her throat. A moan. Something rawer. A gasp that wanted to be a scream but got caught halfway up.

Her hand moved in sharp, erratic pulses between her clenched thighs. Riding the wave of it. Prolonging it. She stared at him the entire time, mouth slack, eyes glassy, and for that handful of seconds the bratty, teasing, valley girl performance fell away and something real took its place. Hunger. Raw, genuine hunger in her face. She wanted him. The realization hit Robbie in the chest like a fist. She wanted him. This wasn't just a game for her.

The orgasm rolled through her in visible tremors. Her thighs unclenched. Her hand stilled. She lay on her side, panting, a sheen of sweat across her collarbones. Her fingers slid out of her bikini, glistening. She brought them to her mouth. Sucked on them. Slowly. While looking at him.

A thick, copious gush of pre cum soaked through his trunks in a warm rush. He felt it spread across his thigh, felt the fabric go heavy and dark with it, felt the heat of his own fluid against his skin.

He sat there. Sand under his nails. Cock leaking. Heart hammering. Sweat on his temples and the taste of coconut sunscreen in the air and his cousin lying spent and satisfied beside him with two wet fingers in her mouth.

Jessica pulled her fingers free with a soft pop. Licked her lips. Looked at his crotch.

"Oh my god."

She pushed herself up on one elbow. Stared. Her eyebrows climbed.

"Robbie."

He didn't look down. He didn't want to.

"Robbie, look at your shorts."

He looked.

The wet stain covered the entire front panel of his swim trunks. A spot. A patch. The whole front, from waistband to mid thigh, dark navy where the dry fabric was a lighter blue. It spread down one leg, following the line of his cock, and pooled where the fabric bunched against his crotch. His erection was still visible through the soaked material, the shape of it pressed against his thigh, and a thin line of pre-cum had actually dripped through the fabric onto the sand between his knees, leaving a dark spot in the pale grains.

Jessica sat up fully. She leaned in close. Examined his crotch like a scientist studying a specimen.

"That's the most pre-cum I've ever seen. Ever. In my life. Including porn." She reached out and touched the wet fabric. Just a poke. One finger pressing into the soaked material, and the pressure of her fingertip against his cock, even through two layers of fabric, made him flinch so hard his knee jerked sideways. She pulled her hand back.

"You leaked through your trunks. There's a wet spot the size of a dinner plate." She tilted her head. Touched the wet sand between his knees where his pre-cum had actually dripped through. Rubbed the moisture between her thumb and forefinger. "You're like a faucet, Robbie. A horny, pathetic little faucet. You didn't even touch yourself. You just sat there watching me cum and your dick was crying about it. Leaking everywhere. Making a mess."

"Please stop talking."

"Your cock literally dripped through your shorts onto the beach." She laughed. Cruel. Delighted. Genuinely tickled by the absurdity of it. "The sand is wet, cuz. You made the sand wet with your pre-cum. That's so gross. That's so gross and I love it."

She flopped back onto the towel. Stretched her arms over her head. Her body lengthened, breasts flattening slightly with the stretch, and she sighed with the boneless satisfaction of someone who'd just had an orgasm. The sunlight caught the moisture on her fingers, still shiny with her own arousal. A seagull landed ten feet away and cocked its head at them.

"I feel so relaxed." She closed her eyes. Smiled at the sky. "Do you feel relaxed, Robbie?"

He stared at her.

"I'm gonna take a nap." She folded her hands on her stomach. Crossed her ankles. "You should probably go into the ocean and rinse off before the moms see your shorts. Tell them you went for a swim. The water's cold, it might help with your." She gestured vaguely at his crotch. "Situation."

He sat there another thirty seconds. His cock pulsed. Ached. Leaked. The sound of waves and his cousin's satisfied breathing and somewhere up on the deck, Katherine laughing at something Julia said, and the normalcy of it all was the cruelest part. The world hadn't changed. The sun still shone. The birds still called. His cousin still lay on a towel in a white bikini on a family beach trip and he sat beside her with a cock so hard it hurt and trunks so wet they were dripping and forty-seven hours of this still to go.

He stood up. His trunks clung to his thighs. The wet fabric molded to the shape of his erection, leaving nothing to interpretation. He turned toward the ocean.

"Robbie."

He stopped.

"Your ass looks cute in those shorts. Even with the pre-cum stain." She didn't open her eyes. The corner of her mouth turned up. "Try thinking about me while you're in the water. I know that's hard. Pun intended."

He walked to the ocean. The sand was hot under his bare feet, then warm, then cool, then cold where the tide reached. He waded in. The water hit his shins, his knees, his thighs. When it reached his crotch, the cold shocked through him like a slap, and his cock went from iron rod to slightly less firm iron rod. The pre-cum washed away. The evidence dissolved into salt water. But the ache stayed. Deep in his balls, behind his navel, in the root of his cock where cold water could reach.

He stood waist deep in the Atlantic and looked back at the beach. Jessica lay on the towel, motionless, arms overhead. The white bikini caught the sun and blazed. Beyond her, up on the deck, Katherine waved at him.

"Water nice?" she called down.

He waved back. Managed a nod.

"Don't stay in too long, dinner in an hour!"

He turned away. Faced the horizon. The endless blue of the ocean meeting the endless blue of the sky, and somewhere behind him, on the sand, his cousin was sleeping off an orgasm she'd given herself while he watched and leaked and ached and didn't cum.

Forty-seven hours.

His cock twitched underwater. Still hard. Refusing to give up.

He pressed his palms flat against the surface of the water and focused on the cold and the salt and the cry of the gulls and tried very hard to think about anything other than the wet sound her fingers made inside her bikini and the way her mouth formed that perfect O when she came and the fact that she'd looked at him. The entire time. She'd looked at him while her body seized and shook and her orgasm crashed through her.

She wanted him. He knew it now. She wanted him and she wasn't going to let him have her and that was the whole point.

A wave hit him in the chest. He staggered. His feet slipped on the sandy bottom and he caught himself and stood there, dripping, and his cock was still hard, jutting against his soaked trunks like a compass needle pointing back toward shore. Back toward her.

He was going to lose this bet. He was going to lose it badly.

The seagull that had been watching them on the beach took off with a screech, banking over the water, passing directly over his head. It dropped something. A shell, or a fragment of one. It splashed into the water a foot from his face.

Even the wildlife was taunting him.