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  • Alan's Thoughts Ch. 04

Alan's Thoughts Ch. 04

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Chapter 4

Alan sighed contentedly, closing the last window, and shut down his computer. He stood to stretch.

"Heading out a bit early for the long weekend?" Laurel asked, turning from her screen.

"Yup," Alan said, pushing in his chair. "I've saved up enough hours, so I'd go into overtime if I stayed much later, anyway."

"Yeah, I wish I'd done that. Too many long lunch breaks." She shrugged. Her silky royal blue top, the same that she wore for that day in the mother's lounge, emphasized the gesture nicely. "So, any special plans, then?"

"Well, I don't know how special they are," he said, putting away his water bottle and pushing in his chair, "but I was thinking of hitting the beach some."

"Ah," Laurel smiled. "Well, try to enjoy the sun and surf," she said, and then leaned in and lowered her voice, "you know, in between fucking blonde beach girls."

Alan felt a slight blush. "I think that might be a bit optimistic. I'm not exactly a pickup artist."

"Yeah, that's what I would have thought, too, until a couple months ago," she said. "Nice camera work for Ally, by the way."

Alan froze halfway out of the cubicle. "How did you-" he started, but she only laughed at him, giving a look at his ass, and then turned back to her computer.

Alan stared at her a moment. He'd been so focused on Ally, and how *she* looked on camera, that he didn't even stop to think that thousands and thousands of people online have now gotten a close-up, HD look at his cock. And that one of those people might recognize it.

He wasn't sure what to think about that.

"Try Halia Beach," she called after him. "I hear it's a good spot for hot hook ups."

"Sure, whatever," Alan said, stalking away.

***

Halia Beach was a half hour longer drive than he'd planned for, but as Alan pulled into the clean, freshly painted parking lot and found a spot on the far outside corner, he was already starting to see the advice had been good. Before he'd pulled the key out of of the ignition, he had already stopped at least twice to stare.

The sky was clear except for a few rolling clouds out over the ocean, and the beach of white sand was clean and soft. The water cut a deep blue curve into the white, and it was dotted small, colorful sail boats. The women were toned, tanned, and baring a lot of skin in tight, tiny bikinis.

For once in his life, the sight of the number of men at the beach didn't bother Alan at all. He smiled, grabbed his umbrella and gear in a bag out of the trunk, shucked off his shirt to reveal his nicely toned (but very pale) chest, and headed for the beachhead.

He had taken a few steps onto the parking lot when he turned to see a large, silver truck coming his way. He paused, watching as it as it approached. He kept expecting it to slow, or stop with him right in its path, but it just kept bearing down on him. The driver was invisible between the glare and the tinted windows. Tensing, he took two quick, leaping steps backward and shouted, "Hey!"

Alan was able to catch a flash of long, blonde hair as the driver's head whipped around, and the truck screeched to a halt. It was a bare stride from turning Alan into a trauma case. There was a frozen moment while he and the driver stared at each other in shock.

Then she rolled down the window. Alan could only see the edge of her face-platinum blonde hair and big bug-eyed sunglasses-around the large side mirror as she leaned her head out.

"What the hell are you doing, you dipshit?"

He opened his mouth, unsure how to reply. Then he felt a surge of blood pressure. His adrenaline hit, late to the party from the near miss.

"I'm walking," he called.

"You're in the middle of the road, jackass!"

"This is a parking lot," he said pointedly. "Not a road."

"You should be on a crosswalk!"

He gestured behind him. "Do you see a crosswalk anywhere around here?"

She jerked her head to the rear of her car. "There's one right back there, dipshit."

"I'm not going that way," he said, gritting his teeth gritted as he moved toward the driver side door. "That leads to another part of the parking lot. I'm going that way." He pointed firmly at the beach with his free hand. "Shouldn't you be thinking more about, I don't know, looking in the direction that you're driving? This is considered fairly basic tactic."

He finally got a better view of her at the door. It made him pause just a little. She was short-she looked dwarfed in her massive truck. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, but still spilled to her mid-back in a gleaming wave, and she had perfect, golden-tanned skin. She wore a white t-shirt over her shiny, gold-colored bikini. Alan could tell the color, because she had such huge knockers that pointed straight out of her chest, they stretched the white shirt thin enough to see the golden sparkle. She had a flat, lightly toned stomach, even scrunched up in a car.

"Stare much, creepwad?" she sneered.

He glared, hesitating. He opened his mouth.

"Dipshit," she said again, and hit the accelerator. Alan had to leap away or the back rear of truck would have clipped him as she roared passed. The truck made a squealing turn around a corner, and was lost from sight among the parked cards.

Alan stared after it. His jaw hurt. He let out a short breath, and then turned to the beach. His gut burned for a good twenty minutes after.

***

Alan stared up at the sky. His arms and legs were beginning to feel the burn as he treaded water, the waves washing him up and down. He nodded slightly, and then turned and swam back to shore.

He found his bag and umbrella where he'd buried them in the sand. He'd placed them near a stick, on a line between the fifth and sixth fence posts. He set up the umbrella well back from the shoreline, and threw down a towel to lie on. He paused, looking at the spot. Alan pulled the towel off again, and working with both hands, piled bunch of sand up on one side to elevate the head area, and then threw the towel over it again. He re-applied some SPF 50, and throwing on a pair of sunglasses, he settled just inside the shade of the umbrella.

And then he took another good look around.

Alan's eyes instantly settled on a pair of girls in the distance, slightly to his right. They were both about average height, Latin, and filled out their swim suits nicely. The one on the left had a sexy black tankini with white lining, emphasizing the nice way her cleavage pressed against the dark fabric. The one on the right had a dark green cut-out one piece, showing off some toned abs.

Alan frowned at them a moment, and then pulled out his phone. He used an app to calculate the distance they were from him-about 25 meters. He tilted his head, and then shrugged.

"Worth a shot," he muttered, and focused on them.

First he had to make sure they didn't walk right out of sight. [Slow down, enjoy the ocean a bit], he thought at them. It took another moment or so, but then they did slow, turning slightly to look at the crashing waves. As did several women around them. He saw one girl yanking a boy at her arm to stop, and he turned to her, blinking.

Alan scratched his chin. Was he having some sort of dispersion effect? He typed quickly into his notes of his phone:

{I'm probably adding in too many variables. Greater distance, multiple targets.} He stared at that for a moment. Alan shrugged again. {Well, I guess I'll just continue and see what happens.}

He tried to focus in on those two only. Like they were standing together across a tunnel from him. The cut-out girl had hard, toned ass that said she worked her booty, and the other had a nice wide, rounded shape out from her waist. He could feel his cock start to stir.

[I'm starting to get horny,] he thought at them. [I can feel the swimsuit rubbing against my clit. The fabric feels amazing.]

He stared at them. After three breaths, he didn't see any apparent change, so he tried again.

[So many hot guys out here. My pussy is so warm. How long has it been since I had a good cock?]

He leaned forward, squinting. They just continued to stare out at the ocean, turning slightly to chat a bit. They might have been breathing harder, but it was hard to tell from the distance. He took a deep breath, and gritting his teeth, he pushed at as 'hard' as he could (if that was the word):

[God, I could really use a fuck. And I mean right now].

At this there was a flurry a movement. Just as a man in long black trunks walked by the two women, they both instantly latched onto him, grabbing an arm each and pressing their boobs into his chest. He gave a quick, confused glance at them, but they pulled him hard and steadily, saying something in his ears, until they were out of site.

Alan blinked. His field of vision widened, and he suddenly noticed that that whole area was now almost emptied, and surrounding it was a large number of women urgently pulling on men out to the ocean, or to the parking lot, or another secluded spot. One nearest to him went so far as to yank her guy out of the sand where he had been burying himself, and after whispering something hot in his ear, grab him and drag him off the beach.

Alan made a sour face. {Refraction effect seems strong over distance with multiple targets.} he typed. {I've managed to get a whole bunch of guys lucky, so I guess I'll get karma points, but now I'll try a single target instead.}

He panned more to the left, looking for someone that was out of the blast area. There was a girl sunbathing, wearing a classic black bikini. She had dyed red hair, which looked odd with her deep tan, but her body was long and smooth, and she had a nice, firm pair nestled in her bikini top. She lay with her hands resting behind her head. He focused on just her.

Or at least, he tried to. But just then, Alan saw a flash of platinum blonde hair and golden-tanned skin cross his vision. He blinked just for an instant, and then his eyes snapped to her.

The woman from the truck walked fluidly. Her every step was sensual, but it was the gloating kind-a walk that said she was too good for every man there, but wanted to show off her body, to see their reaction. To tease them on what they couldn't have.

He realized again just how huge her tits were for her height and her tiny waist, stiff and perfectly round. Her ass wasn't Kim Kardashian, but it was nicely shaped. She had a tramp stamp, too-a butterfly tattooed on to look look like it had been put there by calligraphy-deep, messy, brushstroke-like lines in deep black. The butterfly had three long, even claws on each wing, like Wolverine.

Alan quickly sat up. He felt that aching in his jaw, the burning in his chest. He clenched his fists.

He watched her walk back and forth for a couple minutes. It looked like she was just pacing around the beach. She would watch the men watching her, never looking at them directly- not besides a sideways glance, or a disdainful twitch of her lips.

Alan focused on her. It felt easy. Instead of something in words, or even an image, he pushed at her, steadily harder and harder, with one single feeling.

Lust. Pure, thoughtless desire. A burning need, right at the loins.

Her strut began to slow. Her glances were less sideways. Alan could even tell from the small distance that her huge bust was beginning to heave steadily. He imagined every feeling of her legs moving, emphasized how the fabric of her bikini bottoms rubbed. Every shift in the fabric of the bikini's bra running over her hard, hard nipples.

But every time she looked at a man to measure him, he immediately thought at her [Gross!], or [STDs, for sure] or [Probably has a tiny cock].

Finally, she stopped walking at all, pausing only a short distance away from Alan. She turned slowly, scanning the crowd as she bit her lower lip. As her gaze moved, he pounded her with the lust, the horniest feeling he could imagine, but at the same time bombarded her with, [No, no, no, no good, no way, not that one, not-].

Finally, her gaze settled on him. Immediately, he threw an image at her: her pinned against a wall, her tits mashed while while he pounded his cock inside her.

She reeled a little, looking away and bending over. She arched her back and bucked her hips, several times. Her eyes were wide. Cautiously, she turned back to him. He gave her another: her bent over, face on the ground, legs spread as he pounded her deep, relentlessly, feeling the cock penetrate her completely, his hand leaving bruising palm marks as he spanked her ass.

At this, her mouth opened wide and her eyes squeezed shut. Her back arched again, and she sank down to her knees. Unless Alan was mistaken, she was actually having a little orgasm just from being thought at. The bikini bottom looked darker. It clung to her pussy lips.

After a moment, she fell forward so she was on her hands and knees in the sand, panting. The long streams of her hair veiled her face in a platinum wave. A man walked up to her, asking if something was wrong, but she gave him a hard, angry wave with one hand, not even bothering to look at him. But she did look up at Alan. He pretended not to see, relaxing on his bed of sand.

He decided to give her one more small push.

[I need that cock in me,] he thought at her. [I need it dominating me. I need it's jizz in me. And I need it now.]

She only lay there a moment longer. Then with a sudden burst, she pushed herself to her feet, and made her way over to him. She pushed passed another girl who made a sound of protest, but she didn't even look at her. Finally she stood over Alan, her perfect tits heaving.

He pretended to notice her for the first time. He turned, squinting, and then gave her a glare.

"I know you," he said levelly. "You're that bitch."

He pushed a surge of lust with the word 'bitch'. Her head went back slightly, as if she felt it thrust in her. She looked at him, frowning, biting her lip.

He shook his head. "You don't recognize me, do you?" She stared at him. "You almost clipped me with your truck earlier."

Her eyes lit up. She took a half step back, mouth firming, but Alan gave her just an instant of the image of her bent over, being pounded. She stopped, frozen, gaze fixed on the groin of his swim suit.

"Well, what do you want, dipshit?" he asked.

She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed it. She swallowed, and tried again. "I... about earlier, I was just a little-"

"I don't give a damn about that, bitch," he said, giving her another thrill as he said the word. "Just tell me what. You. Want."

She looked at his face. And then at his hardening cock. And then sideways a little, licking her lips. All the while he pounded her mind with the need, the raw desire. Finally, she got down on her knees next to him, folding her legs under her.

"I," she said, voice shaking, "I want you to fuck me."

He acted like he was surprised, suspicious. "What?" he said.

"I want you to fuck me," she said again, clearer. "I want you to turn my pussy into your personal cum hole."

He glared at her, mouth a firm line.

"Please!" she said, hips twitching. "Make me your bitch."

He gave her another surge at the word 'bitch'. He let her that cook in her for a long minute. Then he abruptly reached into his bag, and rifling around, he pulled out a bottle of massage oil. He slammed it down so that it stuck in the sand between them.

"Rub this on yourself," he said. "Everywhere."

She only spared it a small glance, and then took a look around. His eyes narrowed, and he started to turn away, so she snatched it up. Scrambling, she managed to get the cap off, and then proceeded to pour the oil all over her tanned body. She rubbed it on her legs, and on every square inch of ass, and down onto her firm boobs.

"Make sure you get to get those tits especially," he said. "They're fake, aren't they?"

"Yes," she said, pouring more, reaching down into the bikini top to rub them until they were running freely with the slick liquid. By now, everywhere but her hair had a good layer of almond oil, and it dripped off of her and onto the sand. The bottle was almost empty.

She sat there, panting, glistening in the sun as people stared at her, whispering, laughing.

"Good," he said, and suddenly stood up. Without giving her anything else, Alan grabbed her by the ponytail, and started pulling her after him. She stood as quickly as she could, scrambling, and had to bend her head as he pulled her steadily behind him.

Alan led her only a short distance. Off of the beach, to a low building built right on the edge of it. It was brown and dingy and not all that well kept up, especially compared to the rest of the beach. Yanking her along, he pulled her around the side, and into the men's bathroom.

He gave only a cursory glance around, and luckily it seemed empty. So he ripped open one of the stalls, pulled her inside, and slammed the door behind them.

With a quick pull, he heaved her over against the wall, hard enough that she let out a slight grunt. He didn't let her take off the bikini. He took the top in both hands, squeezing those massive tits hard, and ripped it right off of its strings. The bottoms followed, landing in a torn, wet wad on the floor. His trunks fell next to them.

He pinned her to the wall of the stall at the wrists, his body pressed against hers. He could feel the slick oil, the firm muscles under her skin sliding against him. She stared up at him, wide eyed, mouth open and already panting heavily. He could actually feel her pussy twitching where it pressed against him, wet with oil and her juices.

He grabbed her left leg, lifting it to his shoulder, lined up his cock. And then he slammed his dick inside, full force. But instead of his usual, he did something a little different.

[That feels amazing.] he thought at her. [So full, so hot... but don't cum yet.]

She jerked, as if the orgasm had started, but instead it only settled, with him deep and full inside her. Her pussy still squeezed his cock nicely, contracting a little.

He drew a deep breath. And then started pounding his member into that oiled up snatch, hammering it inside as hard and as fast as he could. There was no build up.

She moaned louder and louder as he reamed into her, head pressed against the wall the stall. She kept getting tighter as he gave her a steady stream of the thoughts, [It feels better than any cock you've had before. Better and better, higher and higher. You are so close, teetering on the edge. But you can't cum yet.]

He grabbed and mashed those big fake tities with his free hand, slapping them, twisting her nipples. She moaned louder, thrusting them out closer to his touch.

He started to feel himself get close, so not one to disappoint on the climax, he abruptly stopped and pulled out.

Her eyes shot open. "No, don't stop," she said. "You can't-"

He gave her another glare, and she wilted.

"Please," she said. "Please keep fucking me. Please fuck me like your little cum slut. Just a little bit more, please!"

He regarded her a moment. Then grabbing her by the shoulders, he yanked her around, and pressed her face down onto the toilet seat. He spread her legs and pulled her ass up, and lined his cock behind her dripping hole. He spanked her, almost as hard as he could, and she moaned, "Yes! Oh, shit, yes!"

"What do you want, bitch?" he said, spanking her again.

"Fuck me! Please, fuck me!" she said, gripping the toilet. "Fuck me and make my pussy drip with your cum! Fuck your bitch! Fuck your bitch! Please please please please fuck your-!"

Alan slammed his dick back inside her, cutting her off as she arched and drew a deep breath. He pistoned with all of his strength, all the while thinking at her [Better and better and better, higher and higher, oh that feels so amazing-but you can cum yet! Not until you feel him shoot inside you!]

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