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  • Writer's picturedonnylaja


“Today Tamicita is wearing:”, announced the cardboard sign outside the little open shop along the concrete walk next to the beach. Tacked underneath was a tiny orange string centered on a triangle about the size of an eye patch. It was meant to attract customers, and it did. In the shade of its canvas roof this shop was stuffed with bikinis of every size and shape and color, hanging in thick array from three racks and tacked all over the three plywood walls. In back, an old man in shirtsleeves tapped at a cash register, ringing up a big one-piece for a grandmotherly type. Various kids roamed up and down the racks. And helping someone along the first aisle (devoted to larger size two-pieces) was Tamicita, the summer sales girl, wearing her stringy orange thong bottom.

Her body was magnificent. Deep brown, both by birth and by exposure to the sun, and slim except for the large breasts, way out of proportion to the rest of her, which stood straight out from her thin chest, announcing themselves to the world with gigantic chocolate nipples sticking out from dark ovals three inches across. The thong was barely more than an orange thread skimming across the brown flatness at the lowest part of her tummy, meeting the little triangle six inches below the navel, a little triangle that only just did cover her carefully shaven pussy lips and nothing else. In the rear there was only a thin orange thread coming up between her tight, naked butt cheeks, joining the thread around her hips. She didn’t seem aware of her near nudity; the large melons swayed gently as she held out a black two-piece suit for the heavy-set woman in sweatpants, cheerfully explaining in a thick Mexican accent how it would flatter a “full” figure. The old man behind the register looked up at his helper at work and smiled.

Tamicita’s cheerful and helpful disposition was successful again; the woman decided to buy the two-piece. As the girl looked around for someone else to help she saw her two friends from school, Carlos and Dom, stopping in. “Amigos,” she said, “Como están?”

Bien,” Dom said. “You have hunger?” They were both wearing the local summer uniform of teenage boys, tank tops with baggy shorts, big sneakers and white socks that came up almost to the knee.

Señor Sid, could I take a break now?” the Mexican girl said.

“Back in half an hour,” Sid said, in a kind but firm voice. He watched with an odd mixture of lust and affection as the two boys walked off with his nearly naked employee between them, down the concrete walk to the snack bar at the end of the shops.

It was a little place she went to every day for lunch. She ordered her usual, a dish of vanilla ice cream. Carlos and Dom each ordered a cold soda, and also a hot black coffee. “That’s weird,” Tamicita said, looking from side to side at what her friends had ordered, her large breasts swaying slightly.

“We like caffeine, hot and cold,” Carlos said.

At an open, outdoor place like this everything was either stone or concrete. The snack bar had several booths with concrete benches. The three friends went to the farthest one. Tamicita took the seat facing the ocean. After sitting down opposite her, the two boys changed their minds and decided to sit on either side of her. This way they all could have a nice view of the ocean. Dom and Carlos sipped their sodas, putting their coffees to the side, as Tamicita started on her ice cream. They all put their feet up on the bench opposite. Two pairs of big sneakers and socks, and in between, two bare, tanned female feet, crusty with sand.

Carlos and Dom took sidelong looks at her breasts and then started talking, first about the boys’ surfing adventures, then about how things were with their relatives in Mexico. “I’m so glad I’m here now,” Tamicita said thoughtfully. “It’s so poor down there.”

It was mid-July. “You staying at that trabajo till September?” Dom said.

“I don’t know. Sid wants me to start wearing a C-string.”

Dom and Carlos looked at each other. “What’s a C-string?”

Tamicita was ill at ease now. “The C stands for . . . it ties onto my . . . my little thing . . . It’s backless and no sides.”

Carlos said, “Backless? How does it stay up?”

As she took another spoonful of ice cream she shifted a bit, her bare butt cheeks scraping against the concrete seat, glancing to the side and then down. In a low voice, she timidly said, “It’s just a little string that goes down in between and . . . a little ball at the end that goes . . . in my . . .” She whispered now. “My butthole.” She bit her lip and took another spoonful. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

This really set the two guys off in their imaginations and left them speechless in spite of their best efforts. Carlos and Dom knew they were lucky to be so close to Tamicita and tried to keep up the conversation even as they were lustfully taking in her beautiful, all but naked body. It was a lust that they knew they would have to just live with. Tamicita defended her virginity ferociously, telling off pushy guys, kicking them in the balls on a couple of occasions, while at the same time wearing the sexiest clothes in the school. Halter tops with just a couple of strings across the back, tube tops that barely stretched over her large, bouncing breasts, itty bitty “boy leg” shorts, or super-low jeans that showed the long, flat expanse of her brown belly and the tops of her butt cheeks behind -- Tamicita drove the boys in her school crazy on a daily basis.

If they knew the details of her summer life, they would go even crazier. Such as the fact that her entire summer’s wardrobe was tied around the doorknob to her bedroom, the thong bottoms that were her only article of clothing. Barefoot and topless, with only a thin string slung way low around her hips and another one disappearing between her bare butt cheeks -- that was how she hung out with friends, rode in the back of the family van to visit relatives, went to the corner bodega to buy platanos and rice for the house from the worshipful guys behind the counter. And every morning, after helping make breakfast for her six younger brothers and sisters, she padded down the hill from the three-family house, three blocks to the beach, holding her little purse, wearing whatever thong bottom Sidney had given her the day before, ready to start another day of work at the shop.

Carlos and Dom thought of her wearing a “C-string”. “Wearing?” Was such a word apt?

“Hey -- stop you guys -- ” she said in her thick Mexican accent, flinching a little. Carlos and Dom had each raised an ice cube from their sodas and were now applying them to the large, brown nipples. She always protested, but she always gave in. It was a game they played. “Stop -- ” Held by expert fingers, the ice cubes swirled round and round over her nipples and the huge areolas, causing little goose bumps in the big brown ovals, making the big nipples hard and bigger, until they stuck out half an inch from each of the big breasts that stood out from her chest like smooth brown coconuts. She breathed in through clenched teeth, then exhaled. “Ohhh . . . you guys . . .” On the bench across from them, her bare feet squirmed, the toes of each foot locking onto and playing with the toes of the other.

Around and around the ice cubes went, and little rivulets of melted ice ran down each breast and onto her flat belly, finally resting against the low-slung string of her thong. When the cubes were all melted Carlos and Dom started with two more. Her nipples were cold and tingly and almost numb by now. “Oooo -- they’re so coold -- guys -- ”

With their free hands Carlos and Dom began sipping their hot coffees. Then at once they both attacked.

“OHH!” Her whole body jerked; the nearly naked Mexican teenager shut her eyes. Both freezing cold nipples were now engulfed by hot mouths, then suddenly suctioned by raspy hot tongues. Her legs shook, her toes spread. Though they could not see it, her carefully shaved pussy was getting wet, little spots forming on the tiny triangle of orange cloth. Tamicita clenched her fists and pressed them down against the table as her big, hard nipples were bitten and stretched by hungry teeth, pulling her nipples out and away from her chest . . .

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