Would You Have Sex on the Beach? (Young Love Hangover)

WORDS BY DEWAN W. GIBSON

One slight disadvantage about living in Southern California is that I often end up playing tour guide. Whether it’s a long lost friend of a friend fresh out of Cleveland, who ends up complaining about the lack of Blackness in San Diego within a day of his arrival, or family that becomes family only when they need to save on the hotel portion of their vacation; someone is bound to show up on my doorstep looking for direction.

Luckily, every so often I get an out of town visitor with an outstanding ass-to-waist ration.

A woman with the type of ass that you not dare hit from the back because you know you won’t last but a minute. A booty so damn big it frightens you to approach her. Instead, you run home and search for a similar ass on onionbooty.com.

A rump so rotund that you dream of asking her to do freaky shit like use the bathroom with the door open just so you can see that mammoth heaven-sent mound of flesh engulf that lucky white toilet seat.

Damn!

An ass so amazing you’d compromise your integrity just to tap it once.

The woman with all of the above and more was the niece of my uncle’s girlfriend, Alisha, who was in town with her aunt for a college graduation. My uncle remained in Louisiana, unwilling to pay good money to travel and see some kid he barely knew participate in a boring three-hour ceremony.

I was supposed to attend in his place, but I too skipped the ceremony for no other reason than sheer laziness. Perhaps, if my supposedly reformed player of an uncle had provided a more in-depth description of the niece outside of “I never looked at her like that,” I would’ve turned off Judge Judy, Judge Joe Brown and Judge Pirro and eventually gotten my lazy ass off the couch. But without that motivation I refused to budge.

Hours later I felt guilty about my absence and agreed to meet Alisha and her aunt at their hotel. I arrived and found a room full of their extended family members who had come from around the country. Exercising a bad habit I’ve been guilty of practicing since my late teens, I did a quick ass and titty scan around the room. Of the five or so females within eyeshot, four were eliminated as potential flirt partners due to age or familial relationship. So my focus was on the niece, Alisha.

Alisha was more than adequate. In fact, she had the stand-out beauty of a woman I’d like to approach in a crowded bar, though I’d probably end up nervously stuttering and stammering my way out of phone number contention, let alone actual penetration or even a dry hump.

She was of medium height, with retro styled dark hair and “she can’t be all White!” olive and youthful skin. From the front, her hips gave an impressive preview of what could be expected behind, while her breasts need not ever be concerned with sagging as they were no more than a succulent mouthful. She wore a small tee and summer shorts that accentuated what had probably driven men crazy since she reached the point of no return we call puberty. Her ass was… Amazing to say the least.

I left the hotel room to give the family private time to decide on their plans. As I sat in the courtyard and searched my cell for someone to text while bored, Alisha came down the stairs and sat next to me. In a steady Southern drawl she complained about the “gettin’ ready” habits of her family.

I listened attentively and gave her the basic respect of eye-to-eye contact and follow-up questions. I found her intelligent as she spoke without the vocal fillers of “like” and “you know” common among my past flames. She was also bashful and often turned away in laughter as our conversation continued. I took advantage of her shyness and stole glances at her profile as she looked away. I also snuck frequent peaks of her thick thighs, which widened as they were pressed against the hard wooden chair that framed her.

Aunty soon came down and the three of us piled into my compact two-seater for a trip downtown to grab something to eat. They lapped it up in the cramped passenger space and their inconvenience became my sensual treat.

As they twisted and turned for a comfortable position, the bottom part of Alisha’s ass, where the thigh morphs into a smile line and then into a cheek, crept out her shorts and soon spilled over near my gearshift.

Unfortunately, I was driving an automatic so there was no need to have my hand on the gearshift to “unintentionally” graze up against her flesh. Yet, I placed it there anyway in hopes that the spillage of supple flesh would somehow reach my eager fingertips.

We got to the restaurant and eased into conversation. My uncle’s girlfriend ordered a bucket of beers that the two of us quickly downed. Alisha, on the other hand, remained sober through our binge drinking, settled for a Coke and nachos.

After another round of beers I excused myself to the restroom. I returned to the table and found that Alisha had also excused herself in my absence. Led by an alcohol-increased libido, I lied and told my uncle’s girl that I’d forgotten my phone in the bathroom. She replied with only a knowing smile.

I got near the women’s restroom and waited outside for a few seconds. Then, reality hit. What would I say if I did see her come out the bathroom? “Hey, Alisha, you wanna go into this crowded men’s room and make out?” or “I was wondering… How does that women’s room look inside?”

Shit!

To avoid looking like a perv I quickly went back to the table and to my surprise saw that Alisha had already returned.

Although most might find this as cliché as Southern California itself, Alisha, her aunt and I decided to leave the restaurant for a late night stroll on the beach. Before we got there, though, I pulled over to grab a 12-pack of cheap American beer. The kind you find at a college frat party that has Black music playing all night long, but dare not invite a single Black student into their gathering.

Encouraged by the privacy offered by the relatively empty beach, Alisha and her aunt go to work on the 12-pack. The three of us—full of liquid courage—talked as we had not before. Relationship problems with my uncle, reflections on losing one’s virginity, discussions about the stereotype regarding Black men (i.e. the supposed third leg). We discussed it all.

Within an hour or so, we were surrounded by sand, water and empty beer cans. I excused myself to take a piss and offered to dump the trash on my way.

As I gathered the empties, Alisha asked, “Do you need help with the cans?” Although I surely could have stuffed the cans back in the cardboard and tossed them in a single trip I replied, “Yeah, for sure.”

We dumped the trash in a bin near the pier. After an awkward and silent hesitation our eyes met, as if we were telepathically communicating, “What now?” Thankfully, I didn’t ruin the moment with a stupid question or comment. Instinctually, I leaned in and she met me midway for a kiss.

Almost immediately, and perhaps too fast, my hands moved from her lower back to that immaculate hunk of ass. As I palmed it I felt my manhood grow to a length it hadn’t reached since I watched Halle Berry give her Oscar Award-winning pussy to that emaciated White man in Monster’s Ball.

As our bodies rubbed up against one another, I felt quivers between our standing embrace.

We moved directly under the pier stairs. Hidden in the darkness from her aunt and the occasional passerby, we lay in the sand. Alisha caressed my cock through my pants as if she had been curious about exploring it all day.

Our time was limited so she cut right to the point, “What do you want to do?”

“Uhm, doggy style, you on top, doggy style again, from the side, and doggy style one more ‘’gin,” was what I wanted to say. Unfortunately, all that was not possible. For one, we didn’t have any protection. And although my Planned Parenthood endorsed pullout method had proven 99.9-percent effective in the past, I wasn’t quite ready to press my luck.

The second problem was that Alisha was only 17 years old!

Hold on, let me explain.

Her birthday was around the corner, so she was actually 17 and a half! Come on, it’s not like I’m running around pissing on teens for sport like a certain R&B crooner, but what would you do if you happened to meet a dime who at age 17 was the proud owner of a Tahiry-like ass?

I gathered myself and tried to think rationally. If I were to continue down that tempting path of sex on the beach I could have potentially faced felony charges, not to mention the prospect of losing my anal virginity in a prison shower.

But just look at her!

If I didn’t take advantage of this opportunity I might end up regretting this night more than the time I sent a perfectly fine woman home because I was unable to complete a pre-sex cooch inspection through the forest of her hairy muff. But that’s another story.

I weighed the pros and cons in split second increments. Alisha enticed me with gentle strokes where her young hands had no business being. I continued to kiss her until I was ready to make a decision.

Finally, I manned up and chose to…

End the story right there.

Fin?

Have you ever been attracted to someone that was considerably younger or older than you? How big of an age difference is too big for you? How many of you ever messed with someone that was older than you? Could you date someone that ever messed with someone underage? What would you do if you found out your teenager was messing around with an adult? Did things go a bit too far in this story? Would you ever have sex on the beach?

Speak your piece…

Dewan W. Gibson is the author of The Imperfect Enjoyment and ImperfectEnjoyment.com.

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