Summer Holiday/Spain Day 3 I meet a Princess
“It’s best if we get naked like everyone else,” he says and grins when he sees your half-hard cock. Bob strips as well, and you get your first good look at him. He's one of those guys that you wouldn’t really notice if you saw him in the street, but apart from a bit of a paunch, he is fit and strong-looking. His cock was indeed bigger than mine, but not by much, with a pair of heavy balls underneath and a big patch of black curly hair. You don’t normally check out other men, but this whole thing is a new experience for you.
You head past the volleyball game, and you see that the kids are all in the ten to thirteen bracket. The oldest was a well-built black lad who, from what you can see as they jump around, reinforces the stereotype. There are two girls, a bit younger with nicely budding tits and two other boys the same age. The youngest is another girl who looks to be around ten. They take no notice of us as we walk past.
“What about you,” Bob says. “I’m guessing you don’t have much experience.”
You tell him that up till now all You've actually done is watch videos. “I wanted to but I never had the opportunity,” you say.
He laughs. “It’s a lot easier when you breed your own. You and I would never have met if Molly hadn’t taken a fancy to you. That trick she did, doing handstands to show off her cute little bum. Believe it or not, you were the second guy she tried it with. You say. "Really!"
"Oh yes - she is usually pretty good at spotting the right guy, but sometimes they are more interested in Harry." He goes quiet for a while as we walk along. "The trick is, you have to make the most of whatever is on offer. It’s like this beach; you can’t apply for membership here, you have to wait to be invited, and you only get an invitation if you check out.”
There's a shack selling beer and ice cream and stuff with a few tables and umbrellas dotted about, and a few customers - adults and children. Bob, who has a man bag slung over one shoulder, digs out some change and buys us both a beer.
We sit down, and before long a pretty little girl, about three years old, with bright blue eyes and a cloud of blond curls toddles over. “Hello Mister,” she says.
“Hello, Princess," you say.
She giggles. “I’m not a Princess,” she says and runs off.
Bob smiled approvingly. “You’ll do well. A good-looking young chap like you, they’ll come flocking round.” He looks across at the girl's mother. "Don't ignore the mothers though." He stands up. “I’m going to get some ice cream to take back to the others, I expect they'll be ready for one by now; are you coming?”
What do you do?