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Mey Mey at the Beach – Story by Jimmy

Mey Mey feels fucking fierce. In the morning she blitzed the gym by setting new personal records for squats and deadlifts in the same session. Now she’s walking down a path next to the local beach in the bright summer sun, knowing full well that her body is blazing just as much as her fiery hair; especially in her new, shiny blue bikini.

She notices the stares and pointing of tourists. She sees people crossing the road to get out of her way. She cares little. This is her town. This is her beach. If people are afraid of her perfect body and unashamed salami as it bounces out of her tiny, overwhelmed g-string, that really is their problem.

Two cops tip their hats as she passes, and compliment her on the new attire. They wouldn’t dare pull her up on a technicality of showing too much public peen – they’d risk missing out on her regular, energetic servicing of the department.

‘Hi, Mey Mey,’ one of them says nervously. ‘Nice day.’

‘Gentlemen,’ she purrs, lowering her glasses and winking. Their faces turn scarlet-red.

‘God, I love the summer,’ Mey Mey says to herself and anyone within earshot. She does a spin as she walks, her arms raised to the cloudless sky. As she comes out of her pirouette she notices something down at the beach which is even more beautiful than the azure sky and the still, sparkling ocean: Brazilians! Two of them. Or at least, they might be Brazilians. They have that bronzed, full-woman look of a South American princess (and one of them is wearing a bikini made out of the green-and-yellow Brazilian flag). Her body on autopilot, Mey Mey immediately flicks off her heels and jumps out onto the sand, then walks with long steps towards the beauties.

And beauties they are! As Mey approaches she watches the two ladies. They’re playing volleyball over one of the permanent nets set up a little away from the shore. They seem quite good – able to dive and set and spike; but Mey Mey is much more impressed with their form than their talent; namely the form of their thick, juicy thighs as they run for the ball; and their round, heart-shaped asses as they squat for a serve; and their taut, brown stomachs, covered in sand and sweat. They look like they’re in their early twenties. ‘Delicious,’ Mey Mey thinks, licking her red lips. She decides she’s in the mood for a little competition.

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