Titfuck Frenzy on the Shore

The lakefront was a sweaty haze that evening, the sun bleeding red into the water as the crowd thinned out. I was slumped on a splintered bench, chugging a beer, my eyes prowling over the stragglers – sunburned kids, tired parents, and a few loners like me, chasing the last scraps of daylight. I’ve got a filthy habit of sizing people up, peeling back their swimsuits in my head – picturing shaved slits or matted jungles, swollen ridges or tight little creases, maybe a lip slipping free if the angle’s right. It’s my dirty little pastime, and I’m damn good at it.

Off to the side, a woman snagged my attention – late fifties, built thick and unapologetic. She was bent over, ass up, digging through a bag, her burgundy one-piece stretched so tight it might as well have been painted on. Her hips were wide, her tits swinging heavy as she rummaged, nipples poking through the fabric like they were begging for a bite.

Fuck me, I thought. That’s a body you could sink your teeth into.

She stood, brushing sand off her thighs, and turned my way. The suit clung to a soft gut, but it was her legs – meaty, spread just enough – that locked me in. Between them, the material dug in, outlining a fat, juicy mound, maybe a stray curl poking out at the seam. My dick twitched. I wanted to bury my face in it, taste the salt and sweat, feel her grind against me.

I’ve got this sick trick – reading a woman’s face to guess her pussy. Thick brows? Probably a hairy mess. Full lips? Bet they match downstairs, plump and dripping. It’s twisted, but it keeps my blood pumping.

I dragged my eyes up – and she was staring right back, lips curled in a smug, fuck-you grin. She knew I was drooling over her. My balls tightened, and I jerked my head toward the water, pretending I gave a shit about the waves. Busted.

But I’m a dog – couldn’t help sneaking another look. She’d dropped to her knees now, one leg splayed out, digging in her bag again. Her hand slid down, fingers yanking the suit’s crotch aside – just long enough for me to catch a raw, pink flash, lips thick and glistening, a bush that looked like it’d scratch my face raw. Then she snapped it back, smirking. Teasing little bitch.

I shifted, my shorts tenting hard. She was fucking with me, and I was eating it up.

She got up, slung the bag over her shoulder, and strutted my way – short gray hair, hips rolling like she owned the place. As she passed, she locked eyes with me, dark and nasty, then tugged her suit tight, letting it ride up her crack so I could see the full outline of her ass and that swollen slit from behind. My cock throbbed, leaking into my shorts.

Then some asshole hollered, “Maggie!” A lean, grizzled guy jogged up from the lot, grinning like a prick. Her man, no doubt. She met him, smashed her lips to his, and muttered something that made him growl. He grabbed her ass, fingers digging in, then slid a hand around front, cupping her cunt through the suit and squeezing hard. She moaned, loud enough for me to hear, and he shoved a finger under the edge, knuckle-deep, right there in the open.

My jaw hit the fucking floor. She shot me a look over her shoulder – eyes slit, tongue flicking her lips – daring me to keep watching. I was rock-solid, shorts soaked, ready to blow right there.

They stumbled toward the changing huts, his hand still groping her, her tits bouncing with every step. They slammed into a stall, the door rattling shut. I chugged my beer, crushed the can, and tried to shake it off, but my dick wouldn’t quit. I waded into the lake, the cold doing jack shit to kill the fire in my veins. All I could see was her – that ass, that smirk, that dripping snatch I’d kill to ram.

I hauled myself out, dripping and pissed, when the stall door banged open. The guy stepped out, zipping his fly, looking like he’d just fucked the life out of her. The door stayed shut.

I bolted for the huts. One was open – I ducked in, cock straining, and pressed my ear to the wall. A wet, sloppy groan leaked through. Then I saw it – a jagged hole, perfect for a perv like me. I bent down and looked.

She was sprawled on the bench, suit yanked down to her thighs, legs wide. Her tits sagged, nipples like bullets, chest heaving. Her cunt was a mess – red, puffy, gaping open, with thick white cum oozing out, pooling on the wood. She was still leaking, a sticky string dangling, her bush matted with it. Freshly fucked and loving it.

I stared, drooling, until she turned – eyes pinning me through the hole, lips parting in a filthy grin. She wanted me to see.

I couldn’t take it. I kicked my door open, tested hers – unlocked. I barged in, shorts down, cock out, stroking like a maniac. She sat there, legs splayed, cum still dripping, and rasped, “Do it, you little perv.”

I jerked harder, grunting, precum slicking my hand. She watched, licking her lips, egging me on. I lunged forward, aiming for that sloppy hole, needing to pound it raw. She blocked me with a hand, voice sharp. “Not there, fucker. That’s his.”

I snarled, begging, but she shoved her tits at me instead. “Here, you animal – fuck these.”