Beach Stud Busted
by MBP  MWFAN318@aol.com 
Paul is terrorized by a young girl


It was a beautiful summer's morning. Paul stood in his favorite spot, at the
edge of the mud which led to the ocean, gazing into the water. The beach was
just starting to fill up as the sun had awhile before reaching it's apex. The
tide was neither in nor out, the surf not completely sedate as small waves
rushed to the shore.

Paul was 20, about 6 feet tall and a well-proportioned 190 pounds. He had a
golden tan, sandy hair, and was quite handsome. And he knew it. His manner
suggested self- confidence bordering on conceit. He rarely failed with the
girls he met daily. Paul expected to score often; the summer had not been a
disappointment.

From behind, someone goosed Paul, giving his crotch a light squeeze and
releasing it quickly. Paul looked around and saw a girl, about 10 yards away,
close to the ocean. She was smiling at him in a way that told Paul she had
done it. The girl was around 12-years- old, pretty but unremarkable, with
light brown hair. She was of medium height and build and wearing a dark red
one-piece bathing suit. She looked vaguely familiar; Paul had probably seen
her hanging around the beach.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Paul asked the girl. Getting goosed by
one of his ladies could have been fun, but this wasn't.

"You think you're such hot shit," the girl said venomously. "I've seen you
around the beach all summer, scamming on all the girls. I'm tired of guys like
you. My friends are tired of guys like you. We want you to leave this beach.
Go work your shit elsewhere."

Paul snorted derisively. "Yeah, right," he replied. "How are you going to make
me leave?"

"Oh, you'll leave," said the girl. "Otherwise, you'll be getting your nuts
grabbed every time you come here. Or maybe even worse."

"Are you actually threatening me?"

"It not a threat. It's a fact. You won't know where I'm coming from, or
whether it will be one of my friends. You won't know if you're just going to
be goosed, or maybe stuck with a needle, or something else entirely. All of
your time here will be spent thinking about protecting yourself, so you might
as well leave quietly and save yourself some trouble. Believe me, it will be
fun for us."

Paul stood in disbelief. He stared open-mouthed at the little girl who had
concocted such a diabolical plan. He didn't know if she had really enlisted
the help of her friends. He didn't know if she planned to carry out any or all
parts of the scheme. She was looking at him mockingly. Paul knew he had to do
something. When he recovered from his astonishment, he lit out after her. The
girl obviously expected that course of action: she took two steps and dove
expertly into a breaking wave.

Paul chased after the girl to the spot where she had entered the ocean.
Instead of diving, he waded into the surf in a more or less straight line,
following in the direction she had taken. Paul had no choice but to walk in
the water; he could not swim. He came to the beach to meet girls and to be
noticed; he rarely went into the ocean and only then to cool off. He wasn't
afraid of the water, but wasn't totally comfortable either. Paul waded deeper
into the ocean, looking around for signs of the girl. She hadn't surfaced, or
she had and he had missed her.

A hand touched his crotch. Paul reached into the water but was too late. He
looked into the murky ocean; he couldn't even see a few inches below the
surface. Paul stood motionless at the ready waiting for another attack, but
one didn't materialize. Instead, the little girl surfaced about 15 yards from
his spot, in deeper water. She was treading water, and was in over her head
and probably Paul's as well. Her smiling face was all Paul could see. Keeping
his eye on her, Paul began moving to shallower water. If the girl attacked
him, Paul wanted it on his terms.

As Paul moved towards the beach, his mind focused on what he would do if he
trapped the girl. What could he do? If the girl was a man, Paul would beat the
crap out of him. Paul couldn't hit a little girl, for lots of reasons. He
could try to force the girl to tell where she lived so he could enlighten her
mother. The girl might not tell, however, and the mother probably wouldn't
believe him. And that could lead to more trouble. Paul could enlist the
lifeguard's assistance, but what would Paul tell the lifeguard: that he was
being goosed and forced off the beach by a preteen girl? The 20-year-old could
only imagine what the lifeguard would say. And what he would tell his friends.
Paul might become the laughingstock of the beach. It was amazing to Paul how
powerless he felt. He finally decided the only thing he could do was try to
scare the girl. It probably wouldn't work, but it was the only reasonable
option.

As Paul completed his reverie, he saw the girl dive underwater, so he prepared
for another attack. He was now in shallow water, with his entire bathing suit
above the surface. Paul faced away from the beach, shielding his upcoming
actions from the still sparse beach crowd. He waited calmly, anticipating, and
was not disappointed.

The girl came under him, through his legs, and did her thing. Reacting
quickly, Paul grabbed the girl's wrist and, with one strong arm, easily
hoisted her out of the water. But the girl was ready for the move. As she came
out of the water, she planted a foot on the ground and drove her knee into
Paul's unprotected crotch. Her knee connected and Paul released her hand,
doubling over. Not giving Paul a chance to recover, the girl smashed her body
into his knees, tackling him underwater. Despite the shallow water, Paul
panicked. He could have easily stood, but rolled around under the water,
totally confused. Paul finally ended up in a sitting position in the water,
his head above the surface taking long, deep breaths. With her opponent
otherwise occupied, it was a simple matter for the girl to behind Paul, up on
her knees. She reached into Paul's bathing suit and twisted his penis and
balls with surprisingly strong little hands. Paul screamed, but his head had
gone back into the water and the screams were muffled. He lifted his head out
of the ocean, and started to call out, but the girl's voice stopped him.

"What are you going to do," the girl asked smugly. "Are you going to call to
the lifeguard for help because a girl is beating you up?"

Paul considered and quickly shut his mouth. As he was thinking, the girl
twisted again, although not as hard. The pain was still severe, as Paul's
groin was already sore. He managed to stifle a scream; the girl spoke with him
again.

"I can really hurt you bad," she said. "Your love life will be gone."

Paul relaxed, and the girl relaxed her hold, although not completely.

Through the pain, Paul asked "What do you want?"

"I want your bathing suit. Take it off, carefully."

"What do you mean you want my ... OWWWWW." The girl had twisted again, and
Paul was in agony.

"OK, OK, you can have it," Paul cried. The girl eased her hold again. Paul
began removing his trunks as the girl remained ready for any sudden movement.
He finished slipping them off, which was pretty difficult given the position,
and held them in his hand underwater.

"Now what?" Paul asked.

"Just leave them there," the girl commanded. "I'm going to let you go. Don't
try anything stupid."

Paul simply nodded, and the girl released him slowly, still alert. She needn't
have worried. Paul's cock hurt like hell; the slightest movement was painful.
He wasn't a threat.

The girl stood up, bathing suit in hand. She looked down at Paul, still
sitting underwater with his hands covering his crotch just in case she kicked
him again.

"Don't worry, honey," she cooed sweetly as she started making her way back to
shore. "You'll get these back in a few minutes."

Paul watched the girl as she walked to the beach. He gingerly backed up from
his position to deeper water. He wanted to move to where he could stand. He
continued to watch the girl; she went to the lifeguard's chair and said a few
words, pointing to Paul, and to the bathing suit. He could see the lifeguard
laugh - at least that's what it looked like - as the lifeguard took the
bathing suit and began to wade out to Paul.

Paul stood up, the water even on his chest, as the lifeguard approached. He
and the lifeguard knew one another: not as friends, but as acquaintances of
approximately the same age who saw each other at the beach every day. Paul
could see the lifeguard try valiantly to suppress a laugh; a smile; a snicker.
He reached over to Paul, and handed him the suit.

"Hey man," the lifeguard began as he hardly knew what to say. "That girl says
she took your suit from you." Unspoken words hung in the air, as the lifeguard
knew the girl removed the trunks by force.

Paul reddened and carefully donned the bathing suit. "Yeah" was all he could
manage.

"Sorry man," the lifeguard said as he left the humiliated man. Handling it
well, the lifeguard left without another word, his amazed grin hidden by his
leaving. Paul watched him leave and could only imagine what the other man was
thinking.

Paul stayed in the spot for long minutes, as he composed himself. He exited
the ocean slowly, as each step caused pain. It would take days before his
package was back to normal. As Paul gathered his stuff, his eyes scanned the
sand for his nemesis. The girl was lying among a gaggle of girls, grouped
among a large number of blankets. She was watching him, head propped up by her
elbows, bare feet swinging idly. Her friends ignored him as she smiled
broadly, the only one who knew what happened. Her steady, self-satisfied gaze
unnerved Paul who turned away. He had not only been asked to leave and
threatened, but also been beaten up by a lone young girl.

Paul left the beach without a backwards glance.