“Oooo look at that one! And ahahah that one!” she sang, as we sat next to one another on the empty b
“Oooo look at that one! And ahahah that one!” she sang, as we sat next to one another on the empty beach, “They look the same! You’re really just as good as any of the photographers I used to work with!”“Oh, I don’t know…” I replied, trying to keep the silly delight I was feeling, being lauded by Melissa, out of my voice, “i-it’s probably just these better cameras, on these phones, these days…”“No, no, you’re really good!!” she flattered, scooching herself closer to me. We had been sitting like this, next to one another on her towel in the sand, all alone, for a while now. We were going through the pictures of the day, the little “modeling shoot” she’d asked me to do for her, this afternoon after our morning classes at the conference. She was flipping through them on my phone - which she insisted we use - in trying to duplicate some of the shots she’d done at a photoshoot on this same exact beach, this little nature reserve, six or so years ago. Or was it two, or three? I had trouble pinning her down, on that one. Anyway, she wanted to put the pictures up on Instagram, she said, for a joke. Melissa had tossed the gauzy tapestry of her sarong over our heads, to keep us shielded from the late afternoon sun and able to more easily see the pictures on my phone’s meager screen. The moment, thus, was intimate, the space between us tight…“C’mon…” I deferred. It was disconcerting, how excited I was by her plaudits, how eager I was for her praise, even if it was just for my photography skills. We had been so friendly, here, all alone on our basically private beach over these past few hours. With no one else around, I had no airs to keep up, no appearances to maintain, and my guard had come down without a fight. I had allowed myself to both relax and give in too easily and too fully to the temptations of her flirty friendship. “I’m no photographer, really…you’re obviously just a really good model…”“Ahhh, I was never really a ‘model’,” she deferred, “just a girl with the boobs some energy drink company wanted in their ads. But thank you…” She giggled, and nudged me with her bare shoulder. “…and you should learn how to take a compliment,” she told me. My heart fluttered.I also can’t begin to tell you how fucking turned on I was. I’d just spent the better part of the afternoon following her around as she posed here, posed there, once in a while disappearing behind boulders or bushes to change in and out of multiple swimsuits for this, our ersatz modeling session, trying to duplicate the last time she was here. “Before” pictures stored on her phone, “After” now on mine…I must have looked like an overeager simp, a wide-eyed supplicant, when she - with demure giggles - had initially peeled off her beach dress to reveal her first bikini, a little, overmatched yellow thing, and asked me to start snapping. She had framed it as a chance to see if she still “had it”, now that she wasn’t nineteen years old. Oh, she had it, I’d quickly and convincingly been shown, and in spades. In fact, the afternoon quickly became a study in how much bigger her tits had grown over the last few years, how much more Melissa there was everywhere, what kind of womanly body she was - if she’s to be believed, god help me - still growing into. Our first looks, comparisons of the previous shots to today’s, were ample demonstration of that - it actually made her laugh: “Omigod I look huge in that one!!” or “I’m like twice the size I was then!!” To her it was a joke but in all honesty it actually was quite dramatic, sitting here with her now, looking at these pictures.It was also quite dramatic how soft her skin felt. She was leaned into me, under the canopy of her sarong, the skin and supple flesh of her bare left arm, shoulder, hip, thigh pressed abundantly against my sallow side. The day had cooled as evening approached, and her warmth was pleasant, the scent of her beach-sweetened body saturating our little space with its luxurious richness. My view - even notwithstanding the bikini pics - was equally enthralling. She had changed, after our shoot was done, back into her burgundy suit, because I had told her - when asked, pressed on the matter - that it was “my favorite”. So now our private world under the shade and shelter of her skirt was filled with her lap, her hair, her big, soft breasts in her string bikini. Sunlight dappled in, shadows emphasizing everything. I was so fucking hard. “I, uh, did take photography in college…” I conceded, bathing still in her praises and painfully aware of my erection, which was nearly a third person in our little makeshift tent. “Seeee??” she squealed, bumping me with her shapely hip, “I knew it! You were so good, too, making me feel comfortable, like a real professional.” She flipped to another photo, nonchalantly zoomed in on a little detail…“How do I always seem to manage to get sand on my boob..?” she asked, more to herself in an aside. If she heard me chuckle I’m lucky; I was worried it sounded like a whine.“It is a little weird traipsing around in front of your boss in a bikini,” she said, now casually flipping to the next picture, “but you were such a gentleman.”Ha - ‘gentleman’. If only she knew the battle I’d been fighting all afternoon, trying to keep my composure, trying to look at ease as she giggled and bounced and posed, rolling in the sand, playing in the surf, smiling - or seething - for the camera. I saw sides of Melissa I’d only seen in the countless images of her I’d surreptitiously collected on my pc at work, from her Instagram, ones I’d scoured from the net. But here, in person, in the flesh, she looked bigger and more voluptuous than ever, and it had been all I could do to keep from outright groaning at times, when she would emerge from behind a bush, or a boulder on the beach, in a new bikini or one-piece. I might be kidding myself but I hope I made it look like I was keeping my cool and snapped pic after glorious pic. I was doing the best I could but in the end I knew I was not made for this; my heart is too weak and I was honestly afraid I might pass out.And these photos are all on my phone, I thought to myself, in a lurid anticipation.“Well, you really look beautiful, in all of them,” I said, nodding but immediately knowing I’d said someth-“Oh my god thank you!!” Melissa gushed, turning my way in our little shelter and dropping the phone, forgotten, onto our towel. “You are so nice, so great..!”My heart nearly stopped as I looked at her, our faces inches away. Eyes made up, makeup heavy and dramatic for the camera. Her hair a huge soft mess of deep brown abundance, her dimpled smile and perfect cheekbones riveting and…Fuck. She is so fucking gorgeous. “Uh…” She inched in closer.Omigod is she going to..?“I could just kiss you right now!” she laughed, her smile growing wide and her eyes dancing, playing over my face and then flashing as she read my reaction, the moment between us suddenly wired, charged. I can’t let this explode, I can’t I can’t I c-“I-it’s true…” I mumbled, dropping my gaze away from hers back to the phone, laying beneath her thighs. I knew I should stop, stop. “I m-mean…the pictures came out g-great…”Looking down, my eyes could not help but be drawn to her great breast, tanned and huge and swollen in her taut burgundy bikini, stray grains of sand the only imperfection on the smooth expanse of its skin. She was for the moment quiet, and breathing. Oh god I just stared. “D-Doctor J..?” she finally began, her voice dropping, cracking, sounding - for the first time - like she was unsure of something, “Do you like spending time with me?”Oh jesus.“Y-y-yes, of course,” I replied, unsure of what to do. “Okay…okay,” she continued, her voice still shaky. She was obviously trying to gather herself. “I was worried that I was maybe being too…pushy, that maybe you didn’t really want…”Her words trailed off, and I could feel her looking at me, watching my face. I hoped to god she couldn’t tell that I was just staring at the swell of her big left breast, that rather she took the downturn of my gaze as just an inability to hold hers. “N-no, really, it’s…fun. Y-you’re fun,” I said, dumbly, too meek of course to tell her that every moment with her had been like a fantasy come true, that I would kill to spend every last second of mine just staring at her, ogling her, my only air the tanning oil and perfume from her skin of this moment right now. I had to hold my tongue, before saying anything else stupid. “We do have fun together, don’t we?” she continued, her voice dropping, familiar, “it’s been great, down here, watching you relax.” The slow, rhythmic burgeoning of her chest, how each of her strong breaths inflated her breasts into the tautness of her swimsuit, soft flesh bulging against its confines, had me hypnotized. “I like seeing you loosen up, enjoy yourself. I like seeing you have fun. I like helping you do that. In fact…I guess I should tell you. I have a little surprise for you…” she said. “A…a surprise?” I asked, witless at this point, eased into a tranquility of sorts by the closeness of her body, by her calm, even voice.“MmHmm…a surprise,” she answered, gentle giggles sending jiggles through her boobs, “you lucky boy, you get another two days down here. You needed a break, you needed to relax, so I had Randi change flights for us, get another couple days away, another two days of vacation…”“T-t-two days?” I asked, suddenly confused. I was going to…what? Be away another two days from the office? But the conference would be over, everyone else long gone. Except…wait. “Y-you too?” I asked, eyes up to meet hers for the moment, “You’re staying too?”“Of course…” she purred, watching my eyes drop again, seeing my anxiety quickly assuaged, “If that’s alright? We can stay longer, just you and me. So we can relax, maybe talk about some of the stuff I learned, changes we can make in the office. Is that okay?”“Uhhh…” I began, as the complications started to rise in my head. There were patients to be seen, things to do, and then there was- “I already okayed it with Sheryl,” she answered, as if reading my thoughts, “And we moved your patients. We took care of everything. It’ll all be fine, it’ll be so nice…”“Y-yeah…” I replied, apparently agreeing to all this. Two more days? Just with Melissa? With Melissa, the beach, and her…her…”Good..!” she chirped, jiggles again through her chest, “because I wayyyy overpacked. I have so many outfits I haven’t been able to wear yet…” Casually, she brushed a few grains of sand off her left breast, sending more seismic ripples through her tit. “And now I get to wear them just… for… you!”She booped me on the nose.She booped me on the nose?