beach bags Andre noticed all the eyes that followed Eva. She wore a thin white cotton shirt over her two-piece yellow bikini and her luscious boobs bounced and rolled like puppies in a sack.
Eva knew she would be displaying too much because Andre would not allow her to wear a normal bra to the beach. She looked straight ahead and tried not to see anyone who might be staring at her. Luckily for her, she also had no way to see the gaping mouths and obvious stares of the people behind her who got a glimpse of her perfect ass after she passed by. Andre, however, took it all in and loved every second of it.
Some guys have serious jealousy issues. They see a guy look at their wife and they want to start a fight about it. For Andre it was more like having something he was really proud of. Like a car guy taking a classic Corvette on a Sunday drive just to show it off. Nothing made him feel better than someone giving him a wink and saying, “you’re a lucky guy.” He knew Eva was as hot as a two-dollar pistol and taking her to the beach wearing a small bikini guaranteed him a great day of watching people look at her.
Eva wanted to protest that the yellow two-piece he selected from a catalog the week before was far too revealing. In the past she only wore a one-piece bathing suit and those were always modest. However, she learned that protesting such things only led to more severe discipline sessions and never to her getting her way. She was surprised to realize she was not too embarrassed to be wearing it. At least not as much as she thought she would. Gradually she was losing her public modesty and the best feeling for her was that she was pleasing Andre with her new boldness.
At least she thought it was boldness, until she found out what Andre would have her doing over the rest of their Mexican trip. By that standard, walking to their lounge chairs was practically sitting in church.
When they were set up with their chairs and towels Andre made sure Eva put on a good show. He told her to apply suntan oil to her entire body and as she did he kept repeating the same order, “Slower.” He insisted she make three applications on her boobs and inner thighs. Slowly. When she turned on her stomach he applied the oil to her round ass. He pulled her suit bottom in every direction always revealing her white flesh to the sun and the onlookers. He made her place a rolled towel under her hips so her ass was uplifted in a wanton, seductive manner. She blushed behind her big sunglasses.
What Andre knew was that the beach was frequented by many European tourists who were accustomed to going topless. He surveyed the sunbathers and nearly a dozen women, mostly middle-aged and overweight were not wearing bikini tops. Most of them were laying on towels and a few were walking from the ocean after a quick dip to cool off from the wickedly hot sun. He could just picture Eva doing the same things and the looks it would garner.
Andre set up the scenario, “Eva, I’d like you to get us a couple of cold beers. How does that sound?”
“Sure, Honey. Where do I get them?” she asked while sitting up.
“Do you see that vendor down the beach a little way? He’ll have beer. I like the local beer called Sol. Why don’t you get us a couple of those,” he said, handing her a hundred-peso bill.
“OK, Baby,” she replied. “I’ll be back right back.”
He lowered the boom. “One more thing, Eva. I want you to remove your bikini top and leave it here. Then walk down there topless and get our beer.”
Eva froze. The color drained out of her face. All she could manage to say was “Please” in a pleading tone. She began to tremble.
Andre was inflexible. “That’s what I want you to do. It’s legal here so you don’t need to concern yourself about that. I see some other women topless. I want you to walk right down the beach to the vendor booth and bring back two beers. And I don’t want you doing anything to cover yourself.
Eva knew she would be displaying too much because Andre would not allow her to wear a normal bra to the beach. She looked straight ahead and tried not to see anyone who might be staring at her. Luckily for her, she also had no way to see the gaping mouths and obvious stares of the people behind her who got a glimpse of her perfect ass after she passed by. Andre, however, took it all in and loved every second of it.
Some guys have serious jealousy issues. They see a guy look at their wife and they want to start a fight about it. For Andre it was more like having something he was really proud of. Like a car guy taking a classic Corvette on a Sunday drive just to show it off. Nothing made him feel better than someone giving him a wink and saying, “you’re a lucky guy.” He knew Eva was as hot as a two-dollar pistol and taking her to the beach wearing a small bikini guaranteed him a great day of watching people look at her.
Eva wanted to protest that the yellow two-piece he selected from a catalog the week before was far too revealing. In the past she only wore a one-piece bathing suit and those were always modest. However, she learned that protesting such things only led to more severe discipline sessions and never to her getting her way. She was surprised to realize she was not too embarrassed to be wearing it. At least not as much as she thought she would. Gradually she was losing her public modesty and the best feeling for her was that she was pleasing Andre with her new boldness.
At least she thought it was boldness, until she found out what Andre would have her doing over the rest of their Mexican trip. By that standard, walking to their lounge chairs was practically sitting in church.
When they were set up with their chairs and towels Andre made sure Eva put on a good show. He told her to apply suntan oil to her entire body and as she did he kept repeating the same order, “Slower.” He insisted she make three applications on her boobs and inner thighs. Slowly. When she turned on her stomach he applied the oil to her round ass. He pulled her suit bottom in every direction always revealing her white flesh to the sun and the onlookers. He made her place a rolled towel under her hips so her ass was uplifted in a wanton, seductive manner. She blushed behind her big sunglasses.
What Andre knew was that the beach was frequented by many European tourists who were accustomed to going topless. He surveyed the sunbathers and nearly a dozen women, mostly middle-aged and overweight were not wearing bikini tops. Most of them were laying on towels and a few were walking from the ocean after a quick dip to cool off from the wickedly hot sun. He could just picture Eva doing the same things and the looks it would garner.
Andre set up the scenario, “Eva, I’d like you to get us a couple of cold beers. How does that sound?”
“Sure, Honey. Where do I get them?” she asked while sitting up.
“Do you see that vendor down the beach a little way? He’ll have beer. I like the local beer called Sol. Why don’t you get us a couple of those,” he said, handing her a hundred-peso bill.
“OK, Baby,” she replied. “I’ll be back right back.”
He lowered the boom. “One more thing, Eva. I want you to remove your bikini top and leave it here. Then walk down there topless and get our beer.”
Eva froze. The color drained out of her face. All she could manage to say was “Please” in a pleading tone. She began to tremble.
Andre was inflexible. “That’s what I want you to do. It’s legal here so you don’t need to concern yourself about that. I see some other women topless. I want you to walk right down the beach to the vendor booth and bring back two beers. And I don’t want you doing anything to cover yourself.
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