His Spring Break Harem (His Asian Spring Break Harem)

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Cancun.

Can-fucking-cun.

He had wanted culture, sophistication, perhaps the company of a like-minded (and preferably, sexually liberal) French woman to show him precisely how the Europeans do things.

Instead, he was watching college students prancing around in practically nothing, doing shots off one another as ridiculously loud music blared around the pool. Not that watching a woman in a thong bikini lapping up drinks from her friend’s equally scantily clad and tight body wasn’t appealing in its own way, it’s just he was only ever going to be an observer in a world like this.

He should have checked the tickets before he boarded the plane, or at all. He had a flight number and a departure gate and had rushed through the airport, spending most of the time there (and in the taxi) on the phone, discussing the finer details of the plans he had sent through the previous evening.

Perhaps then he might have been able to switch flights or get a refund or do

something

to get to his destination of choice. Perhaps then, he would have been dining with his imaginary French woman, her foot running up his leg, both of them desperate for the bill to arrive so they could return to his hotel room. Perhaps, things would have been different.

But of course, by the time he heard the captain announce the destination and duration of the flight, it was already too late.

He heard another splash from the pool and saw the guy from before emerge from beneath the surface. Only now, the group of women he had initially annoyed were cheering him on, capturing the whole thing on their phones to show the world how much fun they were having.

He smiled slightly as he watched the college students frolicking around the pool. For many, it was their first real holiday without their families and they were desperate to make it count. He saw a pair of women who must have been around twenty walk past in the smallest bikinis he had ever seen in his life, their perfect bodies nearly causing his jaw to hit the flaw.

Around their necks were numerous bead necklaces. As he watched them bouncing on top of their ample breasts, he was immediately transported to a simpler time. He remembered sitting down to watch TV when TV was something you had to plan to watch, and seeing some presenter with a microphone in his hand, dancing around in a place just like this as young men and women gyrated for the camera, laughing and showing off, loving their fifteen seconds of fame.

Then later, this was replaced by a popular pornographic film series, where young women on spring break would show their tits for beads and, as the video went on, would do more and more outrageous things until beads were all they were wearing. Even now, the sound of the rattling necklaces made his cock twitch.

But he was too old for that sort of thing now, too mature. He had grown up and had experienced real women, felt the warmth of their skin against his, and his tastes had evolved beyond such trite titillation.

“Fuck me,” he said as he stared at the biggest pair of tits he had ever seen in his life.

They were attached to a ridiculously cute Japanese woman who was holding her t-shirt up to her chin, letting them bounce softly in the air, as if defying gravity, an assortment of bead necklaces rattling between them.

“You owe me some beads,” she said as she pulled her t-shirt back down over her breasts, not that it did much to cover them as they strained against the fabric, her prominent and pointed nipples poking through the material.

“I –” he stammered, still shocked by their sudden appearance, “I don’t have any beads, sorry.”

She looked at him, for a moment as if she was working out why someone

wouldn’t

have beads at Spring Break.

“Ok,” she said, finger on her chin in an exaggerated display of intense thinking, “you can just show me your cock instead.”

He looked her up and down as she stood there expectantly, trying to see if there was a hidden camera upon her person. But given that she was wearing a skin-tight t-shirt with nothing underneath, a collection of beads and a pair of blue shorts that rode high up her firm thighs, he wasn’t sure there was any place to hide much of anything.

He looked around, up at the bar behind him and through the crowds of revellers to see if there was anything out of the ordinary, thinking back to those days watching those shows on TV and thinking he might be on some hidden-camera prank show, but there were none that he could see. Not that he knew what he was expecting to find? Some guy struggling under the weight of the giant camera perched on his shoulder as another guy held a boom mic just out of shot?

This was the 21st century, not 1994.

There were no cameras, no mics, no hidden camera shows. All there was, was an incredibly cute Asian college student with a pair of remarkably perky tits on her implausibly petite body standing in front of him demanding to see his cock.

“Go on then,” she said, waving her arm in his direction, “whip it out.” He stared at her for a moment, still unsure as to whether or not she was serious, trying to ignore the twitch in his shorts as his cock turned semi-hard. She looked down at the lump in his shorts. “It’s not like you’ve got anything to be embarrassed about.”

She planted her hands on her hips and looked him in the eye, biting her lip as she waited. His cock twitched again.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, coughing as he cleared his throat.

“Why not? She asked, “I showed you mine.”

“Well,” he said trying to think how to put it as diplomatically as he could, “tits and cocks aren’t the same.”

“Of course they are!” she said, her breasts jiggling as she bounced in protest.

“If cocks and tits are the same,” he countered, “then where does that leave, you know…”

She ran her hand absentmindedly over her shorts, her slender fingers delicately tracing the seam between her legs.

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully, “good point.”

“Thank you,” he said, sitting up on the stool, making himself a bit taller as he tried to take control of the situation. She was stunningly beautiful and eager to see his cock, and whilst part of him wanted to oblige, he also didn’t want to escalate the situation. She might have been a carefree twenty-something college student, but he wasn’t.

“Ok,” she said brightly, “show me your chest. That’s not the

same

same, but it’s a start.”

He sighed.

“

What?

” she asked, “you’re going to tell me men’s nipples aren’t the same as women’s nipples now?”

He thought for a moment, considering how society viewed male and female nipples

very

differently, but decided against it.

“Alright,” he said, realising he wasn’t going to win the battle. Maybe this would placate her and she’d continue her quest for beads elsewhere. Only, he instantly realised he didn’t want her to leave. He was, he hesitated to admit even to himself, enjoying the attention of having an attractive woman practically begging to see his body.

He was,

shock horror

, actually having fun!

He was wearing a loose, white linen shirt buttoned one higher than he would normally wear it. In Cannes, showing a bit of chest would make him look like a confident older man, here he would look like an old man trying desperately to fit in.

He thought about pulling his shirt up to his chin, having a bit of fun as he flashed her in the same manner she had flashed him, although he was sure the effect would be notably different. Instead, he sat up straight and began to slowly unbutton his shirt, eager to prolong the interaction, if just for a little bit.

He moved slowly, taking his time as he undid the first button and then the second, a hint of his chest showing, smiling as he teased the big reveal. But, he noticed, she wasn’t smiling. Instead, she was intently focused on his hands taking a teasingly long time. He looked and saw her biting her bottom lip, her breasts rising and falling as she breathed more heavily than before.

She squirmed slightly, moving from foot to foot, her legs head close together, rubbing against one another as he undid another button and then another, passing the halfway mark. Even though it had only been a few seconds, it felt like minutes had passed, her eagerness building as she undressed him with her eyes, tearing the shirt apart in her mind, sending buttons flying everywhere.

She absentmindedly ran her hands over the beads hanging from her neck, making them click together as her fingers slid down them, pressing them against her breasts as she continued to watch him.

Her hand moved down over her body and over her flat stomach, matching the position of the next button on his torso, until he reached the last one and her fingers stopped at the top of her shorts, making small circles over the top button.

“Ta-da!” he said, sitting up as he pushed his chest out, holding the edges of his shirt to give her a good look.

“Woo!” she cheered, clapping her hands gently as she bounced on the spot, her breasts bouncing long after she had stopped moving. “Such a showman.”

“I aim to please,” he said, letting his shirt drop from his fingers.

“I bet you do,” she said as she stepped closer, pressing herself between his knees as she eyed his bare torso, her fingers running down his chest and over his abs.

His cock began to get harder and he was worried his growing erection would become obvious in the loose shorts, so he pulled his shirt together and began doing up the buttons, but her fingers had travelled down to the waistband of his shorts and her fingertips had hooked just inside them.

“You’re in pretty good shape,” she said, pulling teasingly at the waistband, “for an older guy.”

“I’m not old,” he said, in a pretend-serious tone as he continued to do up the buttons.

“Old-

er

,” she repeated, leaning in and pressing her lips to his ear as her breasts pressed against his hands as he did up one of the buttons, and whispered “clearly old enough that your hearing is going.” She pulled her body back from him and laughed out loud. As he watched her, he couldn’t help himself and began to laugh too, although he never forgot her fingers were still tucked into the top of his shorts.

The truth was, he was proud of his physique. It had been one of the things he had decided to focus on when it was obvious his marriage was starting to fall apart. He had spent most of his time either at work or in the gym, avoiding home as much as possible, and as his marriage continued to deteriorate, he began seeing notable gains in these other areas of his life.

He occasionally wondered if he had thrown himself into his marriage instead, would it have worked out? But he knew that was just a fantasy. His marriage collapsing went beyond anything more time and effort could fix. They had grown up and apart and were different people now with different needs and desires. Moving on was not only the right thing to do, it was also inevitable.

“Oww!” he said, as she let go of his waistband, pulled back much further than he had realised, and let it snap back against his skin.

She looked at him, smiling as she bit her bottom lip.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Oh nothing,” she said, “I was just curious is all.”

“Curious about what?”

“About what the rest of you looks like.”

His cock was rock hard now and his entire body felt as if it was on fire. He was sure she could tell, but he had moved far beyond worrying about that now.

She stepped closer to him and ran her fingertips gently down the legs of his shorts, her fingers on one hand tracing along the outline of his hard cock.

“I’m afraid,” he said, looking her in the eye as he tried to keep his cool, “I’ll need some beads for that.” Her hand shot up to her chest, pressing the beads between her breasts as the other hand continued to trace lines along his cock.

“But these are mine,” she said, holding them firmly.

“Or,” he said, glancing down to her nipples poking through the t-shirt and between the beads, then back up to her face, “something of equal or greater value.”

She looked at him a moment, her lips tight as she considered her options, and then quickly broke into a smile.

“Ok,” she said, pressing in even closer, his legs spread wide as she pressed herself deeper between them. He felt her thighs pressed against his legs, how soft and warm her skin was.

She looked to the left and then the right to make sure no one was around, then looked to see where the barmaid was, then looked at him, a sly smile on her face. He wondered what she was up to, then as she glanced down, he glanced down.

“Fuck me,” he said, as he realised what she was doing. He stared hard, cock throbbing as he looked down into her shorts, now unbuttoned, as she pulled them from her body, revealing her perfectly smooth pussy.

He wanted to reach down, to touch her, feel her wetness on his fingertips, to part her sweet lips and run his tongue up her, letting the taste of her glorious sex flood his mouth.

“That’s the plan,” she whispered, giggling as she did her shorts back up. Or at least, he

thought

that’s what he heard.

He continued staring down as her hands fastened the buttons. He could have stared at her glorious slit forever, his senses alive with possibilities.

“Was that of equal or greater value?” she asked.

He looked up at her, lost for words, his mind only able to think about one thing.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she said, giggling, her hands on her hips, her beads and breasts jiggling once again. Then her face went serious as she glanced from side to side. “Your turn.”

What the fuck was he doing?

The realisation hit him like a thunderbolt. This was insane, completely irresponsible. There were so many ways this could end badly. He had to put a stop to this immediately.

“Alright,” he said, pressing forward and standing up.

Even as his mind screamed at him to stop, he knew that wasn’t the part of his body driving him anymore, and he didn’t care. He had come for a holiday, to stop thinking so much. So he stopped thinking.

She didn’t move, only murmured softly as his body pressed against hers, his cock twitching as it rubbed against her thigh, and he was sure she felt it. He took a look around to make sure there was no one else watching, then looked up at the woman in front of him who checked out the barmaid once again and gave him a nod signalling the all-clear.

He slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and slid them from the sides to the front. He could feel his pubic hair brush against his thumbs as he held them there, waiting for her to look down. Then as she did, he pulled his thumbs forward, opening up the front of his shorts as wide as he could.

“Oh my,” she said, staring down into his shorts, “it’s so big.” She leaned in closer and he half expected her to reach in and take a hold of his cock, pulling it out to examine if it really was as big as she thought it was.

He had never considered himself particularly well-endowed, although he knew he

definitely

wasn’t on the small side. Still, to have a stunning woman say that to his face, to look at him like that with wonder and desire, made his cock throb like never before, and that she seemed so completely and utterly earnest nearly made his head explode.

He wanted nothing more than to let her touch it, but as he stood there the world came rushing back to him as a wave of panic washed over him. He pulled his thumbs out of his shorts and let them slap back onto his skin. He muttered as they did so and sat back down. He was breathing heavily, his heart racing as he looked around to see anyone who might have noticed their game, but no one seemed to have.

“So,” he said, trying to regain his composure, “are we even?”

“Do you want to be even?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

He thought for a moment. Being even meant their transaction was done, the game was over. There would be nothing keeping her here, and the only thing he wanted in the world right now was to be close to her.

“No,” he said firmly.

“Good,” she said, smiling, “because we’re not.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up from his barstool and away from the bar. “Not even close.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, making no effort to resist or escape her soft but firm grip on his arm.

“Where do you think?” she asked, continuing to march ahead of him. “Your room.”