From Shark Fin to Skin: An Unexpected Beachside Seduction
The shark wasn't the only one looking for flesh and meat.
Illustration by Jason Leviere (@mister_dashing)
It all happened so quickly. I wasn’t sure if I imagined it: a tall, gray triangle peeping out of the water, only to submerge a second later.
The ocean water was unseasonably warm—thanks to climate change—and the Great Whites were confused. Just a week earlier (when I was off-duty), someone spotted one close to shore. I was skeptical. A shark? In these parts? At this time of the year? I assumed some overly neurotic swimmer with a shark phobia cried wolf (i.e., shark).
Here I was, now questioning my judgment. Did I really see a fin? Then it reappeared, wasn’t curved, and was all by its lonesome.
I sounded the alarm on the bullhorn and shouted, “Everyone out of the water! Swim to the shore immediately.” I didn’t use the S-word. You’re not supposed to; it just causes panic. But some fucker saw the fin, too, and shouted. “SHARK! SHARK!”
The rush from the ocean to land was mayhem. Adults swimming on top of kids. Shrill screams. People frantically patting their arms and legs, checking to see if their limbs were still intact.
Luckily, no one was hurt. No one drowned. Everyone made it ashore except for one lingering woman. She clearly wasn’t a swimmer. I saw her head—her whole body—go under the water, and I ran towards her. But by the time I reached her, she was already on shallow land, standing, her tits fully out. I mean, fully out. Big, wet, swaying breasts as she ran toward the dry sand.
I tried not to stare. She wouldn’t be the first woman with DDs to lose her bikini top in the ocean. Besides, there were far more important things going on than her picture-perfect breasts.
Her face dropped when she realized she was exposed. She attempted to cover her tits, but they were just so big she couldn’t conceal them.
“It’s okay!” I told her as she approached. “Let’s just get you out of the water.” I held out a dry towel for her and wrapped her in it the moment she reached me. “You’re okay,” I said. “You’re safe.”
I surveyed the ocean one final time—there was no sign of a shark, and everyone was out of the water.
“I have a spare shirt in the main lifeguard tower,” I said.
“Thank you,” she replied. “Truly, I can’t thank you enough.” She grabbed my hand as I led her further ashore.
I didn’t let him see my smile when he suggested taking me to the lifeguard tower. I didn’t tell him I had my own shirt—of course, I did. Who goes to the beach wearing just a bikini? No, I just stared at his body. The wet sand stuck to the top of his pecs, refracting the sun. His abs—Jesus fuck, I’m usually not such a basic bitch, but there’s something about a man with a swimmer’s body that makes me feral. The way his broad shoulders narrowed to such tiny hips. His obliques that led to cum gutters. Those sluttly little red shorts with a five-inch inseam that every heartthrob wore in the 80s. His ass filled out those shorts, and honestly, I wasn’t sure he knew what he was packing back there. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let me stick a finger in there while I rode him.
She had this doe-eye look as I rummaged the back of the tower for a spare shirt. I tried not to read into it. I had to be professional. She just experienced something traumatic—not the toplessness but the fleeing from a shark. That fucks with normal people. Scars them for life. At least a third of the people from today will never set foot in the ocean again.
The last thing she needed was a lifeguard hitting on her.
“I promise, it’s back here somewhere,” I said, digging through drawers. Then I found a shirt that read “Zuma Beach.” I grabbed it, and when I turned back toward her, I dropped the shirt on the floor.
Turn around, you dimwit, I thought. I had quietly dropped the towel down beside me. My head was tilted slightly, and I looked up at him, gently biting my lower lip.
I pressed my tits together between my arms. I knew exactly what I was doing.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My brain was overloaded, and I couldn’t find words. I just stared at her melon breasts. Her nipples. Her areolas, a dark pink, contrasted with her fair skin. My bathing suit was growing tighter by the second, and all I could do was stare like a fucking putz.
Did I break him?
I wanted to snap in his face and bring him down to Earth. To somehow encourage him to make a move. But all he could do was stare. Goddamn, he was packing, though. That thing was getting bigger and bigger. (I looked at him grow out of my periphery, maintaining eye contact with him—a move that men seem incapable of.)
It was time to put him back together. I leaned in to kiss him, pushing my breasts against his chest. He didn’t open his mouth to kiss me back; he just let my lips press against his. I felt like I was kissing a corpse.
How was this not working? Was he not attracted to me? That seemed…unlikely.
My face was going numb. I tried to open my mouth—to kiss back, but my heart was racing. It’s funny how calm I can be during a shark attack, but the moment a beautiful woman wants to kiss me, I freeze up.
Against all odds, my dick was working! Usually, I can’t pop a boner in these situations, but now it seems to be the only part of my body that was functioning.
Just open your stupid fucking mouth and kiss the stupidly hot girl because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And if you fuck this up, you will never get a good night of sleep again because you’ll lie awake wondering what if.
Maybe he’s just nervous? I get it, but also, I’m here half-naked, throwing myself at him without an ounce of subtly. Please, help me, help you. Open your mouth and kiss me back like you goddamn mean it. Like you’ve just saved me from a shark attack, which you did. Like a damsel in distress (I’m not, obviously)—but treat me like one. Right now. Don’t leave a girl hanging.
Open your goddamn mouth, or I will cut off your dick the moment we’re alone.
And by some miracle, my lips parted. Not a massive Red Sea part—not that big of a miracle—just a smidge, enough that I could slip out my tongue. My face was still hard to control, but I had movement.
Stay out of your head. Focus on her.
Her lips were soft. Her chest was still a little cold from the ocean, but I could feel the warmth of her body emanating. Her heart, too, was racing. Her tits—her glorious, perfect breasts pressed against my chest.
I wrapped my hands around her back and felt her melt into me. She sped up her tongue just slightly, and I matched her speed. Our kisses grew from awkward middle school makeout to something more passionate (and confident).
That’s it. Lose yourself in me. Kiss me like you mean it.
He wasn’t just growing more confident; his cock was still growing. How did a man with such a massive dick not have confidence? Whatever. He was getting there.
I pulled away to see his eyes closed, lips scrunched, and face still puckered. When he opened his eyes, there was a fire in them. A respectful yearning. That’s all I wanted. Someone to look at me like this. That’s literally all I’ve ever wanted.
I grabbed his hands and placed them on my breasts.
“Holy shit,” he said. Good. That’s the appropriate response. I then pressed my palm against his junk and felt him flex.
I needed her. Fuck nerves. Fuck protocol. Fuck everything else because I will fuck her. I pulled my drawstring, and my bathing suit loosened. I then dropped my bathing suit and let what I knew was impressive flop out.
“Holy shit,” she said. Good. That is the appropriate response. She dropped to her knees and began stroking my dick gently. Her long red fingernails grazed my shaft. I could have busted right then, just looking into her eyes while grabbing her breasts. But I wanted to relish this. To relish her.
She opened up her mouth wide and slowly approached the head of my dick. She stopped just before, an inch away, to look me in the eyes before she sucked me. Her mouth was moist, and her pressure strong. She sucked down my shaft, all the way to my balls. Then she stuck out her tongue, licking the top of my nuts.
“Oh shit,” I mumbled as she effortlessly took all of me. Was she a porn star? Who else could do this?
He tasted better than I could have imagined, a combination of salt water and man. I had a feeling that he never had his dick sucked properly. I could tell by the look in his eyes. I needed to change that. So I did my little party trick—unhinging my jaw, taking him all the way down. I could have made my eyes water—guys usually love that shit—but I had a feeling this himbo wouldn’t.
I smiled with my eyes when I reached his base—watched as his mouth dropped to the floor. All the way down, all the way back up. Nice and slow. Wet. I wanted him to remember this on his deathbed.
I am going to remember this on my fucking deathbed.
No woman had ever sucked me like this, and she was seemingly getting as much pleasure from sucking me as I was getting sucked. I pulled my dick out of her mouth. It was too good, and I didn’t want to cum just yet.
She got up from her knees and pushed down on my chest. I lay flat on the floor, which wasn’t the most comfortable, but I didn’t care. She then mounted me. Her pussy was right above my cock. With both hands, she spread her pussy lips, and I could see her pink insides. Gently, she sat on my dick, slowly taking me inch by inch.
“Don’t move,” she said, sensing my desire to thrust. “Let me get used to you.” Halfway down on my cock, she took a deep breath, and I felt her loosen. She then took all of me. When I was lost inside of her, she shifted her weight back and forth, getting used to my girth. She then rose, off my cock, before sitting back down on it again.
It really is the guys you least suspect with the fattest cock.
But it was okay, I just needed a little warm-up and I’d be able to take all of him. I grabbed his hands and put them on my breasts as I rode his long cock slowly. I moaned—real moans. Real pleasure. After a final deep breath, I began to really ride him, my ass clapping against his shaft. I saw his eyes roll to the back of his head. And shit, he’s so big I’m going squirt.
“Fuck,” I said, squirt shooting out of my pussy, ricocheting off his lower abs and smacking him right in the face.
“Woah,” he said in awe. (It really was a bucket-load of squirt). I then saw him fixate on my breasts, how they swung as I rode him.
I actually had a shot at cumming too. I couldn’t think of the last time I was able to finish from penetration alone.
Well, if I’m going to cum, I want him to cum with me.
She stuck a finger in my mouth while she rode me. Instinctively, I sucked. I could taste the salt water and squirt. The room smelled of her freshly fucked pussy, and there was no way I was going to be able to last much longer. Not with this goddess riding me.
When she removed her finger, I thought that was that. But while keeping eye contact, she reached around her back and pressed the fleshy part of her finger against my asshole.
That wasn’t really my thing, or at least, I didn’t think so. I never had someone stick a finger in my ass, but what? I was going to stop this beautiful, sexy, insatiable woman? Fuck, she could do a lot more than stick a finger in my ass before I’d protest.
“Yeah, give me that ass.” I didn’t realize I had said the words out loud until he responded, “This ass is all yours.”
I slipped my finger in and gave a wiggle. His eyes popped. I had undeniably unlocked something in him.
“Shit, I’m going to cum!” I shouted.
“Me too,” he replied.
I started to convulse on his dick, quick little spasms as my pussy clenched his cock. The orgasm exploded outward, and my entire body shook, overcome with pleasure.
And then he unloaded. His cum filled me up and drenched my insides. A second wave of pleasure hit like a pint glass thrown at a brick wall. I felt possessed, consumed. I threw my hair back wildly. Strands covered my eyes as I pushed down on his chest. I felt a final release, and my body relaxed. I leaned forward. My tits crushed against his chest.
I was drained. Out of breath. I was still up in space, but then the weight of her body against mine brought me back down to reality.
Was this love? I think I’m in love.
I slowly removed myself from her pussy, and my cum leaked onto me. I didn’t want her to move. I wanted to lay here, with her on top of me, forever. But there had just been a shark attack, and I really, really should be back out there.
She must have read my mind because she hopped off me, but not before kissing my cheek. “Thank you for saving me,” she said before she put on the Zuma Beach shirt.
“The pleasure was all mine,” I said, knowing it didn’t come off as suave as I intended, but screw it. A win is a win.
I walked back to my friends with a limp and post-fuck glow.
There was Joanne, staring at me, knowing goddamn well where I had been and what I’d been doing.
“I told you it would work,” I said.
“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you,’” she replied, stuffing the cut-out fin deeper into her tote.
“Thank you,” I replied, my face still glowing.