Tag: Brooke

The next day was spent relaxing by the beach. I wore TONS of sunscreen (I’m pretty white). Brooke didn’t need quite as much. Even as a man, she was always keeping up a basic tan to look good. As a chick, she would go to the tanning salon at least twice a week. For the most part, we did nothing. I needed to rest from work, and she just enjoyed basking in the sun like a lizard.

So my main activity that day was to go back and forth between my recliner chair and the beach’s mini-bar. At one point in the afternoon, while waiting for some drinks (two mudslides), this blonde chick came over to order something. She had a pretty slim body, a lovely face, but not much of a rack. Actually, she was rather nice looking, until she started showing signs of impatience at the bartender’s pace. She turned to me, side-nodding in the bartender’s direction.

“Did you order those yesterday? Service is SO slow here…”

I shrugged.

“I’m not in a rush. But if you want,” I offered with a helpful smile, “you can have my drinks and I’ll order some more.”

“Wow! You’re a dear! My girlfriend and I are sitting over there. Bring us the drinks and you can join us, if you want.”

Huh. I hadn’t offered to bring her the drinks, just to let her take mine… But I guess she was one of those entitled people who just assume their looks can let them get away with anything. Not the kind of people I like to interact with. So I waited for the drinks, then sprinkled a bit of faerie dust on them. I took the drinks to the two girls and delivered it as promised.

“Here you go ma’am, ma’am,” I said, smiling at each. “Compliments of the house.”

I turned to depart when the blonde called out.

“Hey, you’re not staying?”

I pointed at Brooke with an over-the-shoulder thumb. “I’m with someone. Just thought I’d be a gentleman. Enjoy the drinks.” And with that, I took off.

(If you’re not familiar with what I did just there, it’s called a “false disqualifier.” It’s a trick I’d learned from Brooke. It’s a way to make yourself attractive by being technically unavailable. Also, I didn’t want to get caught in whatever was about to happen. I hadn’t put the faerie dust in the drinks for my own benefit, but just to embarrass them and take them down a notch or two…)

After I returned to my chair, I directed Brooke’s attention to the two girls. I explained what I’d done, which amused Brooke to no end. So we watched, wondering what was going to happen. After a few minutes, the girls stopped chatting and just lay there, soaking in the sun. I noticed the blonde was repressing gestures to scratch her chest. Her friend (a taller, bustier brunette) was repeatedly squeezing her thighs. And a short while later, the blonde turned to tell her friend something (we couldn’t hear from where we were). Both got up and headed into the water.

And when they were far enough, the real fun started. They lowered themselves into the water so that only their heads would show, and started kissing. I have no doubt what their hands and bodies were doing… And they were at it for a good while. Until the brunette let out some kind of shout, which sent her blonde friend into a giggle fit. Brooke and I knew exactly what had happened, and we suspected many other beach-goers had figured it out too.

For the rest of the day, though, Brooke and I were good and didn’t inflict any pranks on anyone. The next day, though, was another story. Brooke was in a randy mood and felt like having some sexy fun with these same girls.

And so she did. But we’ll get to that next time…

–Jaycee

The plane to get to Cuba was delayed, so there was a bit of waiting before departure. Since it was very early in the morning, and both Brooke and I had packed our things late the night before, we slept through most of the wait. After we finally took off, it took a bit under 5 hours to get there. After picking up our luggage and getting into the bus, we arrived at the resort. It was noonish and, fortunately, our room was ready.

First problem: this was supposed to be a room with two beds. As it turns out, it was a single, queen-sized bed. I checked with front desk, and they apologized for the problem, but there were no other rooms left. We’d have to make do with that, or one of us could use the couch.

Brooke was quick to claim the bed (“Mine!”) and point to the couch (“Yours!”). I objected, but she said I had to be gallant and let her have the bed (“‘Cuz I’m a chick.”). I objected forcefully (“No you’re not! You just misplaced your dick!”), but she would have none of it.

“Fine,” I conceded. “You get the bed tonight, I get it tomorrow. We’ll take turns. That’s fair, right?”

She didn’t say anything, and I knew this was an argument I was going to lose night after night. Well, we’d cross that bridge when we’d get there, wouldn’t we? I was still pretty tired (from the rush at work), but I didn’t want to spend all my time inside the room sleeping. Instead, I’d go to the beach, lie down on a chair, and soak up the sun. (Yes, I did wear powerful sunscreen, and NO, not the one that Minx had given me.) Brooke joined me, wearing one of those flimsy slingshot bikinis–the kind that’s designed for tanning, not swimming. Honestly, I hadn’t really “seen” her goods in a while, and was suddenly reminded of how hot Mandy’s body was. And the people on the beach certainly noticed too (not just the guys, by the way).

We spent most of the afternoon on the beach, reading, sleeping, drinking little drinks with umbrellas in them, and (in my case) swimming in the ocean. At night, there was a welcoming dinner at the fancy restaurant of the resort. Brooke wore her “little black dress,” the one that’s designed to show off her legs, boobs, and heck, all of her, really. I had to admit it was a little distracting, and she caught me staring down her cleavage more than a few times. She was a good sport about it, though, and didn’t give me TOO much of a hard time.

(As a side note, if you’ve never been to Cuba, just know you don’t go there for the food. Or the wine. But service was great, and this was a free trip, so neither of us complained.)

We then went to see the evening show, which was something called “Crazy Cabaret.” There was some singing, some comedy, and some dancing. At one particular moment, one of the male dancers stumbled and nearly dropped his partner, a tall and elegant (but snob-looking) latina. She gave him such a dirty look (for just a fraction of a second, but long enough for me to notice) that I thought she was going to slap him. She regained her composure quickly and the show went on, but Brooke leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear.

“What a bitch! Leading isn’t easy, she should cut the guy some slack.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, still focused on the show.

“Maybe you should loosen her up a bit,” Brooke suggested. “She looks pretty photogenic to me…”

I quickly got it. Brooke was referring to my iPhone, and its special ability.

I sighed. “You’re impossible!” I grumbled.

“No, just highly improbable,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

So I quickly pulled out my iPhone, pointed it at Brooke, and snapped a shot before she could react.

“Wait no! *Aaaah*”

There. That would teach her (and distract her) while I pointed it at the dancer. I zoomed in, snapped two rapid shots, and watched with amusement as she immediately slunk sexily against her partner (who was more than a little surprised by the sudden closeness). Gone was the biatch, in was the purring kitty.

“Jaycee,” Brooke said, “you bastard!”

Yeah, this was going to be one FUN vacation…

–Jaycee

I was at the mall today (after work) when someone grabbed me from behind. I could tell it was female from the (generous) bosom I could feel pressing against my back. Whoever it was covered my eyes and whispered into my ear.

“Guess who it is?”

I hesitated. It’s never a good thing to get this wrong, so silence is often a better policy.

“It’s me!”

My mysterious assailant forcefully turned me around, grabbed my head and forced my face into her boobs before I could even look at her own face.

I recognized “her” instantly.

“Bwookf?” I mumbled into the boob flesh that I knew so well.

“Bingo!”

She pulled me out of her chest and beamed at me. There she was, my old friend Brooke, standing before me in Mandy’s body. It was painful, but not as much as I thought it would be. She wasn’t dressed like Mandy. Mandy was more the tight-t-shirt-and-jeans type. This version had gotten a haiircut, and was wearing a skirt and a loose blouse.

“You two look good,” I said at her boobs, not knowing what else to say.

She laughed.

“Eyes up here, bud.” She punched me in the shoulder. “You’re an asshole for not returning my calls.”

I had to agree.

“That means you owe me a beer.

I had to agree there too.

So we went for a beer, and I filled her in on the latest events in my life. Kinda felt good to have someone to talk to.

–Jaycee

Next update: Saturday