Property of Pops

Wanda jogs across the sand toward a group of young men…and I’m left looking down into Coco’s sun-kissed face, her chest starting to rise and fall faster. Probably because she doesn’t want to be left alone with the handshake pervert. I’m just about to excuse myself, so I can go back to my room at the hotel and take a cold shower. But just as I open my mouth, she blurts, “This is my first vacation.”

Surely I didn’t hear that correctly. “Your first vacation?”

“Yes.” Those spots on her cheeks turn from pink to red. “I know it’s your first time at the reunion in decades. Wanda told me. I just thought…maybe you feel as out of place as I do.” All I can do is stare at this dark-haired angel, the sounds of the beach growing muffled around us. “If you do, that’s okay. You’re not alone.”

As unlikely as it seems, this girl suddenly feels like my closest confidant. “I feel out of place everywhere but a situation room at the Pentagon,” I admit.

She nods slowly. “Do you think that will ever change?”

“No.”

Is it my imagination or is she breathing faster than before? So much so that her words trip over themselves when she says, “Maybe it will. If you meet the right person to share your time with.”

“I don’t think that person exists,” I force out, not sure why the words feel like a lie.

“But you might,” she whispers—and that’s when the unimaginable happens. She brushes her fingers against mine and leans in just a touch closer. “You might.”

There’s no help for my dick now. It’s fully erect, pressed against the laces of my board shorts. She’s close enough that I can taste the sand and salt resting on her skin. It wafts up, warmed by sunshine and makes my mouth water. Is she teasing me? Or is she showing genuine interest in me?

Can’t be the latter. No chance. I’m an old man compared to her. I might sweat for an hour and a half in the gym every morning and spar at the boxing club on weekends, but I’m a grandfather. This girl is still in college. I must be imagining her interest. She’s probably just the touchy-feely type. There’s no other plausible explanation.

Whatever is happening here, that touch of her fingers has the tip of my cock wet with sticky sperm and I need to get somewhere alone before I embarrass myself.

“Excuse me, Coco,” I choke out, striding away, holding my T-shirt over my erection on the way into the hotel. Before I can enter through the double doors, I catch her reflection in the glass, shocked to find her staring after me with unabashed hero worship with a side of hunger…

And I wonder if this weekend has suddenly got a lot more complicated. Or if I’m merely dreaming up the connection I already have with this twenty-one-year-old girl.