Then I decided to find out where the hell I was. Up off the beach a couple of hundred yards ahead of me I saw a road sign. That wasn’t good news. Th...re were no road signs left in British coastal towns. I knew I was on the wrong side of no-mans water. I was somewhere in France, formerly known as the land of the lovers. The Sausage had recently overrun this place. There was no love here anymore. It had become a land of sick perverts. I walked up to the road sign. It told me that the beach I had. "I'm sorry," he started again, "I was with someone else."Alex felt his nervousness begin to subside at the revelation. He felt better having said it, not living with the fear that she'd find out."Someone else?" she questioned, "that's very vague. I was looking for more detail."Linda picked up the piece of paper and looked down the list. "Let's see here," she ran her finger up and down the piece of paper. "It looks to me like a lot more than just 'someone else'. How else do you explain the five. The wind picked up and small waves washed over them, making them sway back and forth to the beat of the ocean. Even though the music still drifted over to them, when he looked back at the beach, they were remarkably alone. He looked back at her body, sensual and soft in the fading sunset. Her white bikini was practically transparent and he could see her tight erect dark nipples and the luxuriant triangle of dark hair lower down. He groaned out loud and kissed her passionately. Moving her deeper. It started in college when he began watching porn regularly and sleeping around with many of the girls that he met in classes and parties. After he graduated and had a good job--which means having money--he began going to strip clubs. Sometime after that, the first really disturbing activity began, one which became a weekly, Friday-night ritual: first, Kyle would stop and get a six-pack of beer, which he would put in ice in a small cooler that he kept in the floorboard behind the passenger.
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