Jun 192013

Steve stepped out onto the balcony of his condo. Mermaid Island was gorgeous this morning. The wind was gentle, the temperature warm and clouds of interesting shaped littered the sky but didn’t block any of the sun. The water was blue and fringed with white foam. Most people would consider the view to be inspiring.

Steve was not inspired.

He took out his binoculars and scanned the beach. It was still early and not many people were out. There were a few old men out on the pier. Smoke rose from the Fish Shack. Seagulls picked at whatever they could find.

There, right beside a sand mound shaped like a giant cock, was what Steve needed. A gorgeous Korean girl wearing a one piece bathing suit was spreading her towel. She had a gorgeous ass. Steve sighed as she laidout on her stomach.

That was inspiration.

Steve sat down and picked up a seashell. He picked up a paintbrush and dabbed some white onto the shell. Stroke by stroke, he recreated the Korean woman’s ass. He captured her curves, the pull of the swimsuit and the fuckable qualities of that ass.

It took him two minutes but he felt better after painting it. He set it aside and picked up another sea shell. Now it was time to start painting mermaids and crabs.

Wendy ran the store on the pier and she bought his seashells at two dollars apiece. She then turned around and sold them at five dollars a piece. The summer months turned into a profitable time of year for a retired man like Steve.

It was also three months of painting fucking mermaids, crabs and fish. That is all they wanted. Paint a boat? Fuck that shit, the tourists would leave it to rot on the shelf. A painting of Atlantis carefully detailed on a shell smaller than your palm? Nope, the tourists wanted fucking mermaids or even a goddamn crab.

One day Steve got mad and painted a big giant pussy on a seashell. He expected a complaint from Wendy but he never heard anything. The next week he drew some nice fat tits. Wendy still didn’t say anything. Now every day he draws at least one dirty shell. He hoped she was selling them but he also hoped that she wasn’t noticing the dirty shells she was putting up for sale.

It was an immature thing for him to do but fuck it; he was old. Steve was getting too old to be walking the beach and bending his tired back over to pick up fucking seashells for tourists to buy

There was a knock on his door. “It’s open!” he yelled.

Joan walked in. The blonde had a smile that lit up her entire face. It was infectious enough to shake Steve out of his artistic pity party. She owned a timeshare next door and was leaving by the end of the week.

 “I got you some more,” she said. She held up a gallon ziplock bag full of seashells.

Steve set down the sea shell with a painting of a crab. Fucking crab.

“Guess I better pay you for them,” he said.

Joan giggled. Most women her age couldn’t giggle without it coming across as an affectation but with Joan it was genuine. She hurried over to him and set the bag down on a pile of other bags.

Steve stayed in his chair. He watched as Joan unzipped her shorts and wiggled out of them. She pulled her panties down too and Steve bit his lip at the sight of that luxurious brown bush. He wanted to lean forward and plant a nice big kiss on that pussy.

“Across your knees?” Joan asked. She failed at hiding how much she wanted him to agree

“Yes,” Steve said.

Joan stretched across his knees. He was sure that she brushed her tits across his legs on purpose. She settled down and he got a good look at her ass.

It was covered in nice lovely bruises. It was a wonder that she could walk up and down the beach at all, much less picking up new shells for him.

“Ready?” he said.

“Yes,” Joan said.

Steve grabbed her ass. Joan clenched as his fingers tightened around her buttocks. He gave her a good squeeze and she winced. The bruises were healing but he had just put them there last night. She was tender and ready for more. He knew that if he slipped his finger inside her sex, she would be as wet as the ocean.

Sometimes Steve loved the fucking tourists.

Tap! Tap! Tap! He started with gentler taps. His hand more bounced off her ass more than slapped. As tender as Joan was, she still felt it. She squirmed and twisted as he spanked and it had an immediate effect on his cock.

Tap! Tap! Tap! He struck her left cheek a few times and then the right cheek a few times. Joan moaned. She also clenched her ass tight. Steve smiled. She was learning. She knew what was coming and she was preparing for it.

Tap! Tap! Tap! Steve held off. He wanted her to wait until she could bear it no more. The waves crashed below them and Steve slowly counted off ten waves in his head.

Tap! Tap! Tap! Slap! Steve brought his hand down hard on her left cheek. Joan jumped and let out a cry of shock. It was probably also a cry of relief that the real spanking had finally begun.  

Slap! Slap! Slap! Steve slowed down as he delivered now solid slaps to her ass. He could feel her desire wetting his lap.  Joan was so damn horny. It wouldn’t be long before she started his leg.

Slap! Slap! Slap He slapped her right ass a few times and then her left ass. When she got used to that, he started slapping the center of her ass. When she got used to that, Steve would slap her nice red ass in a clockwise motion. A few turns of the ass and he started slapping in a counter-clockwise motion.

Joan was humping his leg now. She had a nice slow grind that would be worth throwing out his back to experience. The woman was a good fuck; he just knew it.

Slap! Slap! WHACK! Steve hit her a little harder than he was planning too. Fuck, he was horny and lost control a bit. He stopped for a second and grabbed her ass. He felt the heat radiating from her ass; hotter than any sand on the beach right now.

“Oh God,” Joan moaned.

Steve thought about fucking her. Then he thought about how he would lose a day of painting from fucking. Then he thought about Joan wanting to hang around the condo. Then he thought about Joan wanting to know more about his life, tell him about her life and try to arrange to meet during the winter.

Then he thought about who was going to pick up those damn shells off the beach if Joan was spending all her time fucking and talking with him?

WHACK! He slammed his hand down into her other cheek. Joan shivered as he let his hand rest on her ass.

WHACK! He slapped her other cheek as hard as he could. His cock throbbed and thought about climaxing on her spanked skin.

WHACK! He struck her in the center of her ass and Joan let out a long moan. This time he let his fingers glide over her ass. She winced and squirmed as even this gentle touch drove her crazy.

Fuck picking up shells.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Steve tore into her ass. He gave her a spanking that would make her walk funny for the rest of the day. That is if she didn’t rush back to her timeshare and masturbate herself into a morning coma.

Twenty hard slaps later, Steve stopped. He put his hand on her back as she shook. He stroked her hair until she was ready to stand.

Joan got up on shaky legs. She was going to say something. More than likely she was going to offer to do any perverted thing he could imagine.

“Bring some more shells, and I’ll pay you some more,” Steve said.

Joan laughed and put her shorts back on. Steve smiled with pride at how gingerly she walked out of his condo.

Steve sighed. He was going to fuck her all right. He would fuck her on her last day. He would fuck the shit out of her and after a week of spanking and teasing, she would think he was the greatest fuck ever. He just had to last the week.

He picked up a seashell. It was time to paint another fucking mermaid. 

  5 Responses to “Fiction: Seashell Steve”

  1. This series is making me wistful for my youth in Tampa. But then I remember the sea turtle on display in a box only slightly larger than the turtle.

  2. So now we know who paints the the seashells – and what a way to get them, too :)

    xx Dee

  3. Jason – Mermaid Island is blissfully free of anything in boxes unless that is their particular fetish.

    Dee – Seashell Steve really hates picking up shells but he doesn’t mind picking up tourists.

  4. I love how you tied that together. Yummy.

    And, I remember wishing I was in a similar place when I was a tourist. *sigh* What could have been. Lovely.

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