Beach-slapped

I've got a somewhat deep post in me that I'm still not quite ready to expose to the light of day. I guess that's reason enough to dig up this more humorous one that I've been holding in since earlier, this Summer. At least I don't THINK I posted this one, before. It's NC-17, by the way.:

So, my girlfriend and I decided to take a weekend trip to Destin, Florida to enjoy the Summer weather, the beach, and the discount outlet shopping. Hilarity ensues, but we'll fast-forward to the last day of our little get-away.

We'd been talking about hitting the beach since before we left home, but once we made it to Destin, it never felt like the right time. After finishing up the last bit of shopping, we were getting ready to hit the road and head home... then we realized, "Y'know, we never DID hit the beach. Let's run by there, right quick - even if it's just to SEE the damned water."

So, we did.

Although it was probably late afternoon, by this time, the weather was still nice enough to warm the water to a decent temperature. It wasn't TRULY warm, but it wasn't the artic stew that usually surprises the tourists around Spring Break.

So, we decided that we'd really like to splash around and make moderate public fools of ourselves for a bit. The problem was that we didn't have any swimwear with us. We'd planned to pick some up at Wal-Mart or while outlet shopping, but we never did.

Now, I HAD picked up an extra pair of shorts, but hey weren't proper trunks. "Screw it," I thought. If we want to make this happen in short order, we're going to have to make with the creative improvisation.

My girlfriend was wearing a tank top and pants. I figured that the tank top could function as a bikini top if we ____-rigged it right. Twist and tie the back of it up kinda high and that takes care of the "T." If I gave her a pair of my shorts, that'd cover the "A."

All I'd need is to grab that pair of shorts I bought earlier and we'd be in business.

The problem? We couldn't find those sum-guns ANYwhere. At all... and that damned sun was makin' a slave outta my ass by the minute. I caught myself hummin' old negro spirituals n shit.

It was time to make a decision, take action, and get the HELL out of that sun or at least into something cool, to balance it out.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I figured that my girlfriend's attire couldn't stand to be sacrificed in any real way, so I gave her the shorts I was wearing and we adjusted her top as planned.

My gear was a bit trickier. You see, I'd also picked up a pair of "bikini briefs" (that sounds much less macho than it actually is... or not). They were pitch-black, pretty thick, and somewhat flattering to my frame.

Now, I remembered being a little kid and having my parents send me into the pool in my tighty-whities. This was different, though. The material was so thick that it muted any "details" that might lead to embarrassment - mine or anyone else's.

The only question was whether I had the balls to go out there, like that (pardon the pun). I don't really believe in the Speedo. The whole bag o' marbles thing grosses me out and, I think, is often more likely to result in demerits than cool points. But like I said, everything was muted.

After catching myself re-enacting the campfire scene from Glory, I decided that it was time for action. So, I wrapped myself in a towel and followed my girlfriend from the parking lot to the beach.

She quickly headed for the waves, happy as a kid in a candy store. To be honest, those waves were kicking the shit out of my poor baby, but she was grinnin' like the Cheshire Cat through it all.

She was really making me wanna get out there.

After a couple of minutes of second-guessing myself, I stood up and dropped the towel.

After another couple of minutes of third-guessing myself (then noticing that too many eyes were on my "trunks") I decided that I'd do more damage by standing there, than by getting my scary ass in that water.

So, I headed for the waves and my blissfully battered baby. She went on about how warm the water was, all the while smiling her pretty little face off.

I put one foot in that water and spontaneously let fly a string of expletives that would put Andrew Dice Clay in therapy. This woman set me up with the okey-doke.

The thing is, though, that I was invested too much at that point. I HAD to get into that water, if only to immerse my shame in an animated barrier of translucence.

The problem with the beach, though, is that it has no patience.

Unlike swimming pools, which more or less wait for your body to acclimate to the temperature change, the ocean comes and GETS your frigid ass.

That cold-ass water was methodically working its way up my legs, coating my thighs and, ultimately, ... slappin' me clean on the nuts.

Just my nuts.

Ohhh, shit.

The spectacle of the moment wasn't fully lost on me, so I was half-amused and half-pissed off by the fix I found myself in.

What I didn't realize, though, was that water has a habit of working its way up through fabric. It tends to spread - especially as more waves supply additional moisture.

In other words, my whole "outfit" was juicy as hell.

@#$^%@$#

Again, I let the bad words fly with a ferocity that Sam Jackson could only dream about. Unfortunately, I didn't notice something that my girlfriend HAD picked up on... There was an eight-year-old little white boy standing several feet away from me with his eyes bucked and his mouth WIDE OPEN.

That lil sum-gun musta heard some shit he'd never heard before. Whoops.

"Sorry," I said.

One more thing I learned, that day... THERE'S A FUCKING REASON THEY HAVE AN UNDERWEAR SECTION AND A SWIMWEAR SECTION!

The muted details from minutes before had transformed into fifty-inch subwoofers BLASTIN' my business all over damned beach.

I looked down and saw an imprint of my ENTIRE ding-a-ling. I was like a walking frickin' anatomy lesson... and I STILL hadn't gotten my cold-hatin' ass all the way into the water!

All my bits n pieces were on display.

Wedding tackle for everyone.

Twig and berries, madam?

I quickly covered up my sexual silhouette and got my girlfriend's attention. I told her what the deal was, but she shrugged it off like it wa'n't no thang.

Damn. I didn't expect that.

She said I was making more out of it than it was (so to speak). In fact, she told me that, by covering it up like I did, I was drawing MORE attention to it, and that I'd be better off dropping my hands and playin' it cool. Basically, she said no one would be able to see my goodies.

"Oh really?"

I dropped my hands and her fuggin' FACE dropped clean off her head!

"FUCK!"

Her expression confirmed every damned fear I'd felt 30 seconds prior to that moment.

I had to get some cover and, since it was gonna be a bigger task to make it back to the towel... and I STILL hadn't had any water-fun, I decided that I'd have to suck it up and get my Black ass into the drink.

Have you ever sneezed and coughed at the same time? It kinda messes with your mind a bit. The brain doesn't know how to fully process the information.

That's how I was, juggling my concern over my appearance, the creeping realization of how humorous it was, and my very, very strong aversion to all things chilly.

Eventually, though, I kinda adjusted to the water and we started having fun. I tried not to pay any attention to it, but I occasionally noticed some white women, young and old, kinda staring at me. There were so few people actually IN that section of the water that it seemed clear that their gazes were fixated on ME.

That made me kinda self-conscious and even lead to an overly-dramatic "WHAAAAAT?!" But, it could've been worse, I guess.

Anyway, we got our asses kicked by the tide, choked on some water, and generally frolicked. I didn't know Black people could frolic, but we did.

Eventually, we had to face facts and find a way to get my nearly-nude ass back to the car.

We decided that we'd go to the deeper sections, she'd take my shorts off, and I'd put'em on. Besides, her panties looked like bikini bottoms, anyway. Anyway, we'd do that just long enough for me to get to the towel and come back to the water to cover her up.

So, that's how we got out of that pickle... and kept folks from seein' mine (as much as we could, anyway).


We laughed our asses off about it on the way back home, so I thought someone else might get a bit of amusement from this part of our little adventure.

I hope you did.