Finally there, Paul was relieved and thankful that their destination was now complete.  About ready to find comfort on the warm sand, Charlette spread a blanket nearby instead.  Advancing toward it, he now chose to sit on the blanket instead of the sand.  It was then that she decided to remove her cut-offs.  Her skimpy bikini bottom underneath was so not fair.  Knowing better, he nevertheless watched her run toward the welcoming water.  Her jiggly ass wasn’t exactly helping matters.<br/><br/>I say damn, son!  That girl has one mighty fine booty.  You checking this out, Old Man?  What?! was Paul’s annoyed response.  No!  I was looking at the rock formation over there!  He shook his head at such a stupid question.<br/><br/>Removing his shirt, Paul was about to join her in the lapping waves.  Uh, not just yet, Old Man.  You might want to, erm, wait a little bit before standing up.  Jeez!  He was so entranced with her swaying bottom, he hadn’t realized there was a slight (for now) swelling in his shorts.  And he wore cargo shorts<i>over</i>his swim trunks, for cryin’ out loud.<br/><br/>You’re naughty, Old Man.  No reply was forthcoming from Paul, as, well, he couldn’t argue with that.  Patiently waiting for the “excitement” to subside, he slipped out of the cargo shorts and left them near his t-shirt.  Standing at last, he strolled toward the water.  Charlette’s wet bikini top clung to her like Saran Wrap.  As he entered the water, he thanked the cosmos he couldn’t see her bikini bottom.  Though he did passively curse the Swimsuit gods yet again.