The Local Flavour - Sex Stories

The Local Flavour

'Do you mind if I join you?' She is tall and blond, but that is the most one can say of her. She is fat beyond caring, broad shoulders, thick arms white and freckled, the flesh hard and compact. Small flat breasts, big round belly stretching the cloth of her one-piece bathing suit. Impossible to tell her age, it could be anywhere between thirty and fifty. ‘This sun is killing me. You’re a smart boy to keep out of it.’ I have found a place under the palm trees on the beach, just off the ruins. The lady lowers her broad behind into the sand right next to me, using my shoulder for support. Although on a first impression she seems to be of some standing, she is not sitting exactly ladylike. One fat hairless leg stretched out to one side, almost burying my own skinny hairy leg in the sand, the other leg upright, doubled at the knee and pointing outwards to the other side, leaving me a full view of her bulging crotch delving into the sand beneath her. ‘Incredible, isn’t it? How they built their temples right here on the beach. Never seen anything like it.’ She points with her thumb to the weather and time beaten buildings behind us. We are at the Mayan ruins of Tulum, on the Yucatan peninsula south of Cancun. ‘Well, they may not compare to the grandeur of Chichen Itza or Tikal, but it’s the setting that makes this place magical.’ ‘Chi-chi what?’ Her face is red and puffy, expensive looking sunglasses on a thin nose, small mouth with thin lips, painted a bright red. She’s wiping ...

... sand off her chest with a heavily ringed hand, lifting the top of her bathing suit and reaching inside. She looks up suddenly and catches me staring. ‘I’m sorry, how impolite of me. Sara is the name.’ She holds out her hand, the one that has just been wiping her breast inside the bathing suit. I take it and shake it. ‘Frank. Nice to meet you, Sara.’ ‘You look like you’ve been around, Frank. Do you travel a lot?’ ‘Every chance I get. I like traveling. See different countries. Meet people.’ ‘Meet people. Isn’t that just the most wonderful part about traveling? I have met so many people, I don’t even remember who they all are.’ ‘I guess one only remembers the really interesting ones.’ ‘Isn’t that right though? Where are you staying, Frank?’ She has her hand on my forearm and looks at me over the rim of her sunglasses. She has green cat-like eyes. ‘Playa del Carmen.’ ‘I thought I recognized you. At the Royal Plaza, right? I saw you in the lobby yesterday.’ So it was her in the lobby yesterday. She had walked in with a train of bellboys in her wake, each loaded with a colorful array of bags and boxes from all the major fashion stores along the main street in Playa del Carmen. It could have been a sketch from Monty Python’s Flying Circus. To my perverted mind, it was the introductory scene of a porno flick. Billionaire widow on the loose in the Caribbean, making three bellboys earn their tips the hard way. As a closing shot, my imagination had the three sprawled out naked all across ...