Beach Bags

When Helga first said those attention grabbing words: “Somebody’s stolen our bags” neither of the girls realized what it would lead to. They knew they had a problem on their hands, a big one, but not what sort of a problem.

It was the deserted beach which lulled them into carelessness. They were staying overnight in a small coastal town, so it seemed quite natural that when they went for an early morning swim there should be nobody else around. As it turned out there was a somebody, two somebody’s, watching from the sand dunes behind the beach, while all that Helga and Trieste were thinking about was what a beautiful morning it was. That, and how inviting the water looked. The girls were on their way to a company sales meeting a couple of hundred miles from their own city. The choice had been to fly or to take a leisurely drive along the coast with an overnight stop enroute. Driving was cheaper than two air tickets, so here they were, at a motel with the dawning sun promising a beautiful summer’s day.

It was a good time to be eating their breakfast toast and cereals, especially with a distant glimpse through the opened window of a blue horizon and the fresh smell of the sea mingling with the aroma of the coffee.

“It’s hours yet before we need to check out and the beach can’t be more than five minutes drive away,” Trieste had said. “How about catching a few waves before we hit the road again?”

“Great idea. Let’s go.”

A minute or two to get changed, grab a towel apiece and their travel bags, and then they were on their way. It actually took slightly less than ten minutes before they had sand underneath the soles of their sandals on a beach extending directly from the deserted carpark to the gently breaking waves. And nobody in sight on either side, as far as they could see, apart from a walker going away from them in the left middle distance.

Happy with the area they’d found and at having a chance to exercise before getting on the turnpike again, they’d dropped their bags and towels down on the sand and run into the water, splashing their hands down into the gently advancing wavetops like school children on holiday. Neither of the girls had the slightest idea of how intently their long legs and well filled bikini tops were being watched by the eager eyes in the sand dunes. Nor of the buzz of excitement they left behind as they swam out for a short distance into the sea.

Only a short swim, yes, but long before the visitors had turned back towards the beach two figures had come over the top of the nearest dune, figures who slid down the face of the sand hill in sharp zig-zags, scooped up all the girls’ possessions, then ran back up and over the crest with panting lungs. To all outward signs the beach resumed its previous appearance of peaceful emptiness. Until Helga and Trieste strode back to where their bags had been and found nothing. No towels, no bags, no money, no credit cards, no phones and no car keys. And no sign at all of where they’d gone.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Helga snarled. “We must be the dumbest pair of broads around to let this happen.”

Trieste had a hand up to her eyes, looking across the beach to the car park: “At least our car is still here.”

“Well, whoopee do! Aren’t we the lucky ones? All we have to do now is to pick up and take it to wherever we want to go. It’d be nice to drive it but that’s hard to do without the fucking keys.”

Trieste turned her attention down at the sand. Being bone dry it wasn’t easy to make out any markings in it but it seemed like there were some tracks heading back towards the dunes. It was the only area around where somebody might be hiding, so they had to look there.

“Trieste.”

She lifted her eyes up to see Helga pointing along the tracks. Two young men had appeared on top of the nearest dune. Close enough for them to see both of the boys were grinning at them as though they were all old friends. One of the guys waved his hand over his head in greeting.

“Uh, uh, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Helga said.

“So have I — I’ve got a feeling that I know what happened to our bags.”

“And I’ve got a feeling that I know why it happened. I think our new found buddies have some ideas about a deal they want to cut with us to get our bags back.”

“Yeah?” Trieste put her hand up to shade her eyes. “So do we talk to them, or what?”

“What’s the what? Go back to the motel in our bikinis and ask them to ring our families because we’ve lost everything and we’re stranded out here? And then call the boss up and say we can’t be at the conference because we’ve behaved like idiots? No way, not if I can help it. I think we’d better go on over and do some meeting and greeting.”

Trieste put her hand down and looked sideways at her friend: “You know what they’ll want, don’t you?”

“Sure I know what they want. What do guys always want?”

They trudged through the sand towards the dunes. Already the rising summer sun was diminishing the shadows they cast and silhouetting the outline of the boys on top of the crestline. They might be brothers, late teens, unkempt but not bad looking. A pair of beach bums but both exuding a body language full of confidence. The cocks of the walk, all ready to crow in the morning from their perch.

“Hi, girls. My name’s Billy, and this is Jason. Nice to meet you both.”

Billy’s hair was tousled, as if he’d been swimming as well, and all he was wearing was a pair of tracksuit pants.

“Never mind all the crap,” Helga said. “Where are our bags?”

Billy just kept on smiling, a rooster with his feathers still unruffled: “I like to know who I’m talking to, ladies. What are your names?”

Trieste and Helga looked at each other, uncertain as whether to answer. Billy noted the looks. “Look, I’m happy to talk, but I can only talk to people who’ll talk to me. So if you don’t want to be sociable I’ll be on my way.”

He turned as if to go and Trieste said: “I’m Trieste and this is Helga.”

Billy turned back to face them. “Trieste — that’s a nice name. And so’s Helga. Can we help you at all, girls?”

Helga spoke through gritted teeth: “We left our bags on the beach just a little while ago. Our bags and our towels. They’re gone now. Would you two know anything about that?”

Billy scratched his chin and cocked his head sideways as if lost in thought: “Bags and towels, hey? You know anything about any bags, Jason? Or any towels, even?”

Jason was wearing a gray beret pulled down over his long hair and a sneer on his face. He sniggered and glanced behind him, down onto the other side of the dune. “Hey, there’s a couple of towels lying right over here. Come on up and take a look, if you like.”

Trieste hesitated, until Helga took the first step and they moved up side by side, grunting as their feet sank deeply into the loose sand. On top of the dune were a few straggling patches of coarse grass and weeds. On the other side was another slope just as steep, leading down to a narrow gully. And spread out along the bottom of gully were their towels. Nothing else, only the towels.

“Where are our bags, you assholes?” Helga demanded.

Billy grinned even more widely as he crossed his arms in front of his chest: “Maybe somebody buried them somewhere around here,” he suggested. “All you’ve got to do is to dig all the beach up and you’ll surely find them.”

Helga snarled in disgust and Trieste looked up and down the gully. There was one large beach towel which wasn’t theirs. It must belong to the boys. Beside it was a large coke bottle still nearly full. Trieste suddenly realized how thirsty she was with the taste of salt water lingering in her mouth. Something else was lying in the sand as well, a glossy paged magazine. Even from this far away it was obvious that the pictures on the opened page were hard core porn, pictures of two naked men with an equally naked girl held between them.

“Why don’t you come on down and have a look around?” Billy suggested. “You might find what you’re looking for.”

He reached out to grab Helga by the wrist but she pulled her arm away. Trieste’s throat was so parched she allowed herself to be taken by the hand and led down the slope. Towards Billy’s towel and the coke bottle. She wondered if she just take a drink from the bottle or ask first. Pride demanded that she should refuse to ask any favors from this son of a bitch. But common sense suggested it would be better to ask. So she did.

Billy didn’t stoop over but he waved his hand towards the bottle. “Help yourself.”

Trieste picked it up: “How come you guys are here so early?” she asked him.

“We come to the beach a lot”. He turned to look up at Helga. “Are you staying up there, honeypot?”

Jason reached out and caught Helga’s wrist. Then walked down the slope, pulling Helga after him, her feet sliding on the side of the dune before high stepping clear of the hampering sand. Billy took the bottle away from Trieste and held it up in invitation as Helga stumbled down into the narrow draw

“Would you like a drink as well, Helga?”

She nodded, tightly: “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Billy sloshed the coke around inside the bottle, foaming it and letting her hear the liquid splashing: “I tell you what, I think I’d like to hear you say, ‘Yes, sir'”.

“What!”

Helga stared at him angrily: Billy was still smiling: “Well, you want a drink, you want your bags back. Doesn’t seem too much to me to expect some special politeness in return. Or have you got a better idea?”

Helga and Trieste looked at each other: it was clear neither of them had any better ideas. Billy smiled.

“OK, girls, the way I see it, if you want to go and complain to the cops about your bags going missing, fine. We’ll be long gone before you get back and in any case you can’t prove Jason and I took anything. What’s more, I’ll guarantee you’ll never find those bags again, never. Or there’s the other alternative.”

Billy walked over to his towel, reached down for the magazine and held it up to show the pictures inside. “You’re two hot looking chicks. You want some information that we’ve got. So how about letting us have our own live fantasy as a tradeoff?”

Neither of the girls spoke, looking at each other instead, each wondering what the other’s reaction was. Billy spoke again: “Come on, girls, you remember the Disney commercials: fantasy land, the happiest kingdom of them all. Now just say ‘Yes, please, sir’ and we can get started.”

The girls looked at each other again and then Helga shrugged her shoulders in acknowledgement of the boy’s argument. Billy chuckled, held up the coke bottle and shook it again. “What’s your answer, Helga?”

Her lips were thin and angry: “What exactly did you have in mind … sir?”

“Hey, that’s better.”

He handed over the bottle and watched her drink. At the same time his right hand touched Trieste’s back, ran lightly down her spine, then gently squeezed a firm haunch underneath the wet material of her bikini bottom. She made no movement to stop him but didn’t look at his face either. Then Billy took his hand away, put it in his pocket and took something out to show Trieste. A small camera — a very familiar camera.

“Hey, look what I found on the beach today. You wouldn’t believe it but some girl left this in her bag — must be a real careless character. What do you think, Helga?”

Helga looked at the camera, then at Trieste and shrugged again. “It’s my camera.”

“Then you’d better have it back.” Billy handed the camera to her. “OK, you’ve still got a full roll in there, so you can use half of it, and then Trieste can finish it off.”

“Shots of what?” Helga asked, and Billy sighed in assumed patience at her stupidity.

“You hold the camera, Helga, and when we tell you, you aim it at Jason and me while we’re hitting on Trieste. And when we’ve finished with her she gets to take a bunch of shots of us fucking you. You got the picture about the pictures now?”

Helga looked at Trieste, her face a baffled question mark: “It’s OK, Helga, it’s cool,” Trieste reassured her. “We can put up with them for as long as it takes to get our bags back. And then get moving.”

Helga still seemed unconvinced, but she had to know how important it was for their jobs that they showed up at the sales conference on time. Both of them were being given a chance at promotion but those chances wouldn’t be around long for conference no-shows. And Trieste wasn’t going to miss her chance, no matter what these two beach bums did to her; and, if necessary, she’d hold down Helga for them as well, if only it got the car keys back in her hand before noon.

“No problem, then,” Billy chortled. “Everybody gets what they want, right. OK, Helga, get that camera ready and you stand here between us, Trieste. Jason, stroke her butt for her.”

Billy caught hold of Trieste’s arms and half turned her away from Helga as Jason’s hand began to fondle her.

“OK, Helga, this is your first shot; take it now.”

Trieste thought that Helga would argue, but she didn’t. She took the snap so quickly that Trieste was still gaping in surprise as Helga pressed the camera button.

“Take it easy, honey, take it easy.” Billy said. His fingers were tightening their hold on her arms. “It’s only a bit of fun, you’re not going to get hurt.”

“Jees, she’s got a nice ass, hey?” Jason said as his fingers squeezed the girl’s left buttock.

“That’s because she’s a horny chick, a real horny chick, aren’t you, Trieste?”

She didn’t answer Billy. She had to keep sucking in deep lungfuls of air to keep from getting dizzy.

“Face the camera, gal. Let’s have a nice sexy smile to go with this great body of yours.”

Billy put his arm around her and his hand onto the other side of her butt. With two sets of fingers kneading at the soft mounds behind she was turned around to face Helga full on, and beginning to feel turned on herself. And then Helga was lifting up the camera again, trying to suppress a giggle.

When Trieste glanced down, she saw why. Both of the boys who were fondling her ass had instantly developed jutting bulges in their clothes. She felt her mouth drop in surprise and embarrassment at being responsible for both such obvious physical reactions so quickly. Especially when both of the guys pulled off their clothing as though every fold was full of fire ants. Trieste stared at their suddenly bare bodies as though her mind had slipped into low, low gear and was still straining to move under a massive load of improbability.

“OK, Trieste, your turn to get stripped now.”

It wasn’t an easy job because the fabric of her costume was still damp, but the co-ordinated strength of their muscular arms handled the chore with ease, peeling the fabric away from her skin and leaving Trieste as bare born naked as they were. Naked and stretched out on top of a towel with both of them putting their hands where her bikini had been. Helga took a step forward, as if about to interfere, then stopped as Billy swore at her.

“Stay where the fuck you are, bitch, if you want your bags back. You wait until we’re ready for the next shot.”

Helga hesitated, eventually standing still and watching as the boys asserted their power over their captive by bringing her nipples stiffly to attention with rough handling. Trieste squeaked like a mouse caught by a cat, then squealed in a higher pitch when Billy spread her legs open.

“Grab hold of both of them and start sucking on Jason,” he demanded.

It was totally wild, using one hand to guide a huge schlong into her, and the other hand holding another one steady to blow it off, while her best friend watched the action. But when Trieste looked up at Helga’s face she didn’t see disgust on it — instead there was deep interest and excitement, as if watching a female being ravished was some new and totally cool spectator sport. But the offensive play hadn’t even started yet, as both girls quickly found out.

“Let’s plug her front and back,” Jason demanded.

Trieste wasn’t sure he really meant meant to put her where the porn magazine girl had been, and was still unable to totally believe it even when she found herself forced into riding on top of Jason. But then Billy crouched down behind her and the jaws of the man trap snapped shut front and back.

Trieste shouted in protest, but the boys took no notice, and all her efforts to escape did for her were to impale her anus even more firmly around Billy’s cock as he whooped like a cowboy at a rodeo. And all Helga did was to use the camera when Billy told her to.

“That should be a good one,” the beach bum crowed. “But let’s make it even better next time. Hey, bitch, reach on back and finger your cunt while Jason’s fucking it.”

“No!”

“Do it or we’ll split you wide open.”