xYoung_at_heartx
Typical mom
- Joined
- Apr 6, 2024
- Posts
- 16
My barely legal daughter in a bikini at the resort is driving these older dudes wild—and it's messing with my head
Throwaway for obvious reasons. I'm on this all-inclusive beach vacation with my 18-year-old daughter, and it getting intense in ways I didn't expect. We're hanging on the sand, sun beating down, ocean waves rolling in soft. She's in a bikini She's oblivious, glued to her phone, legs spread just enough to show off her smooth thighs.
But across at the beach bar, there's this group of older guys—mid-40s to 60s—staring like they're starving. One's got that dad-bod with salt-and-pepper hair, gut spilling over his trunks, and he's legit licking his lips while eyeing her crotch when she adjusts. Another's skinnier, gray chest hair, and I swear I see his shorts twitching as he whispers to his buddies, pointing at her hips. They're all chuckling low, beers in hand, basically undressing her with their eyes. It's predatory , but... goddamn, it's stirring something twisted in me. Protective? Sure.
Then one of them—the bold one with the bulge already straining his swim trunks—saunters over. 'Room for one more with you gorgeous ladies?' he says, voice gravelly, gaze locked on her body like I'm invisible. My heart's hammering. Part of me wants to shove him away, tell him she's off-limits. But another part... fuck, wonders what if I let him sit? Let her feel that attention up close, see if she squirms or flirts back. Or hell, egg it on just to watch. I wish i had the powers to read minds.
Am I losing it? Anyone been in a spot like this? What would you do?
Day 2
At the swim-up bar, it happens again.
Sofiia moves ahead of me, and somehow the older guys end up around her almost instantly.
They don’t pretend it’s accidental anymore.
One slides in behind her, close enough that the water between them barely moves. When someone bumps him from behind, he steadies himself with a hand on her back. Light, casual… but not really.
He leaves it there a second too long.
She notices — I can tell — but she doesn’t pull away.
Another guy comes in on her left. He leans toward the menu board, his shoulder brushing hers. He doesn’t move after. He just stays there, like he’s claiming the space next to her.
The three of them drift with the current, touching just enough to feel intentional, not enough to call it out.
Nobody looks at me.
Nobody even pretends I’m part of the moment.
The man behind her shifts closer again — slow, careful — until he’s almost against her. Not touching… but close enough that she has to feel his warmth. His hand dips under the water near her waist, not grabbing, just… hovering. Testing the boundary.
The guy on her left leans in to say something to her. His face ends up near her neck, close enough that I see her inhale, sharp and quiet. He murmurs something low, and she gives the smallest reaction — a tiny shiver through her shoulders — that she probably didn’t mean to show.
The two men share a quick look. They both know exactly what they’re doing. And they know I’m watching.
The bartender hands her a drink. She reaches back to grab it, her arm brushing the chest of the man behind her. He doesn’t move away. He breathes in, like that tiny bit of contact hit him harder than it should have.
They’re all standing right at the edge of crossing a line, and none of them look bothered by it.
And I’m standing there, feeling like I’m watching something I’m not supposed to see…
but unable to look away.
Throwaway for obvious reasons. I'm on this all-inclusive beach vacation with my 18-year-old daughter, and it getting intense in ways I didn't expect. We're hanging on the sand, sun beating down, ocean waves rolling in soft. She's in a bikini She's oblivious, glued to her phone, legs spread just enough to show off her smooth thighs.
But across at the beach bar, there's this group of older guys—mid-40s to 60s—staring like they're starving. One's got that dad-bod with salt-and-pepper hair, gut spilling over his trunks, and he's legit licking his lips while eyeing her crotch when she adjusts. Another's skinnier, gray chest hair, and I swear I see his shorts twitching as he whispers to his buddies, pointing at her hips. They're all chuckling low, beers in hand, basically undressing her with their eyes. It's predatory , but... goddamn, it's stirring something twisted in me. Protective? Sure.
Then one of them—the bold one with the bulge already straining his swim trunks—saunters over. 'Room for one more with you gorgeous ladies?' he says, voice gravelly, gaze locked on her body like I'm invisible. My heart's hammering. Part of me wants to shove him away, tell him she's off-limits. But another part... fuck, wonders what if I let him sit? Let her feel that attention up close, see if she squirms or flirts back. Or hell, egg it on just to watch. I wish i had the powers to read minds.
Am I losing it? Anyone been in a spot like this? What would you do?
Day 2
At the swim-up bar, it happens again.
Sofiia moves ahead of me, and somehow the older guys end up around her almost instantly.
They don’t pretend it’s accidental anymore.
One slides in behind her, close enough that the water between them barely moves. When someone bumps him from behind, he steadies himself with a hand on her back. Light, casual… but not really.
He leaves it there a second too long.
She notices — I can tell — but she doesn’t pull away.
Another guy comes in on her left. He leans toward the menu board, his shoulder brushing hers. He doesn’t move after. He just stays there, like he’s claiming the space next to her.
The three of them drift with the current, touching just enough to feel intentional, not enough to call it out.
Nobody looks at me.
Nobody even pretends I’m part of the moment.
The man behind her shifts closer again — slow, careful — until he’s almost against her. Not touching… but close enough that she has to feel his warmth. His hand dips under the water near her waist, not grabbing, just… hovering. Testing the boundary.
The guy on her left leans in to say something to her. His face ends up near her neck, close enough that I see her inhale, sharp and quiet. He murmurs something low, and she gives the smallest reaction — a tiny shiver through her shoulders — that she probably didn’t mean to show.
The two men share a quick look. They both know exactly what they’re doing. And they know I’m watching.
The bartender hands her a drink. She reaches back to grab it, her arm brushing the chest of the man behind her. He doesn’t move away. He breathes in, like that tiny bit of contact hit him harder than it should have.
They’re all standing right at the edge of crossing a line, and none of them look bothered by it.
And I’m standing there, feeling like I’m watching something I’m not supposed to see…
but unable to look away.
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