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Tourist's pants

2025-02-15 12:08:00, Satire Boris Miska

Tourist's pants

It was getting close to ten o'clock and none of the Turtle boys were moving from their seats. They were all lying on the sand near the tents of the Adriatic Hotel, occasionally glancing over the two open doors of the main entrance.

-Where did you see the old man who left us without playing football? Sandri spoke first!

No one noticed that a policeman from the north had stopped in front of them, who had taken the ball from them on many occasions because it was forbidden to play football there.

-Hey, you gangsters, I can't stand them playing today!

They turned their heads to the short man in the hat, and no one reacted, except Tuti, who always liked to argue with the police because he was protected. His uncle held a position in the Ministry of the Interior and had intervened in the beach area on more than one occasion to get the seized ball back.

"We have a day off today, boss, let's play another game that isn't boring," he winked at the policeman in the khaki-colored shirt.

As Gjeta continued her patrol towards Illyria, the body of a young woman appeared on the runway. She was elegant, with straight legs, a perky chest and hips, her beach clothes were very tight, her bras were like laces and her underwear was almost formal. Her raised shoulders and gathered hair added charm to her bust and portrait.

She seemed to be suffocating, stopped in front of the tent, which one of the waiters hurriedly opened for her, placed the colorful towel on the sunbed, ran two fingers down the back of her panties, pretended to cover her beautiful buttocks a little, cast a defiant glance around, and began to apply beach oil.

The foreign woman's behavior, besides elegance, had a lot of plasticity and erotic notes.

The boys were stunned, the description that Goni had given them last night in the tour was more than true, even he could not have imagined with his imagination what they saw today, it was more surprising.

The sand on the beach ball was almost dry, no one was touching it with their hands, shaking it, most were playing with their fingers in the sand, some of the guys were turned upside down without taking their eyes off the beautiful tourist whose body was shining like a bronze statue from the oil.

"Fifiuuu," a whistle was heard as the woman in her formal swimsuit entered the water and began splashing around.

The teenagers' squirming was occasionally accompanied by a cough, a scratchy throat, like when they watched movies with kisses at the city's summer cinema.

Tourist's pants

The beautiful tourist's panties had not only caught the eyes of the Turtle's boys, but also of many others who were spending the day by the sea.

Some stopped at the edge of the water, others took short walks, while on both sides of the perimeter in front of the hotel with foreigners, the tents were so crowded that it looked as if a circus was about to appear there.

The deputy director of the Adriatic, a security officer, when he left the office to have coffee with a friend, was struck by the unusual gathering of people in front of the hotel. They weren't moving, there wasn't even music playing, everyone was talking in low voices and never taking their eyes off the seashore.

For a moment he thought about an accident, drowning, or a fight, which happened on quite a few occasions.

He looked around and didn't understand anything.

Tourist's pants

The waiter brought the ordered coffees and whispered in Luani, the operative's ear.

-Look, this mess was made by that French girl who came yesterday with the last group. She came out almost without panties, she made the slaves take them down and down and smear them with beach water.

The waiter glanced out to sea, found the foreign swimmer, and pointed his finger at the operative.

-Here's where you can swim for seven pairs of socks.

When she emerged from the water, her body shone even more not only from the oil but also from the wetness of the salt water.

The first whistle at the exit was followed by many more.

This scared the security guard with the goggles, who had unconsciously flown out of his suit and was also chewing like a chick with lust gathering in his eyes.

He backed away from the initial thought of forcibly removing the boys who had surrounded the area where foreign tourists were sunbathing.

This was not a solution, the French group would stay in Durrës for two weeks, they began to imagine the next day, the next day and the day after that. It could not be done by force, they had to put their minds to work.

He nodded to the waiter who brought him coffee and gave him the information about the naked Frenchwoman and went up to the second floor to the office where it said; n/a hotel manager.

The young man who also served as a waiter was a resourceful boy. In the evening, when darkness fell, he reached over the balcony railing and with a stick managed to remove the swimsuits, both the panties and the bras, from the wire that were caught in the laces.

The bathing suits were so few that he managed to fold them in one hand and held them tightly until he reached the security chief's office.

He left the three pairs of different colors on the table and left as quickly as he entered.

Tourist's pants

Luani squinted behind his glasses but didn't move from his spot. Those glasses had confused him quite a bit and he began to think differently.

As he put them on, he imagined the moment when her hands would slide her buttocks through the padded saddles and the bra straps on her rebellious breasts. The fantasy took him upstairs to room 33 where the French tourist slept, perhaps she was now on the bed naked, he had taken off her panties, and her bras, they were on the table, just as the waiter had brought them, just like the morning coffee on the tray.

The knock on the door shook him out of the frightening dream.

He opened the drawer and quickly put them inside so no one would see them.

The next morning, the Turtle's kids gathered faster than on other days, and those from nearby cabins also hurried to set up their tents as close to the perimeter as possible to see and be touched up close by the tourist who had left them speechless yesterday.

At the same time, the beautiful Frenchwoman, dressed in a bathrobe, was asking for clarification at the reception desk. She hadn't found the bathing suit she had hung on the balcony railings last night.

The man behind the counter shrugged in surprise, something like this had never happened before.

He called the room cleaners, and the garden cleaners, they all pursed their lips, they didn't know anything.

"The guy came out," Sandri reacted first as soon as he saw the Frenchwoman appear, who didn't walk with her head held high like yesterday, she had thrown a beach towel around her waist and a scarf that hid her beautiful breasts.

The conversations stopped and they were waiting for the next action, the undressing that the tourist would do as soon as she approached the tent that she found open today.

Surprise erupted as disappointment as soon as the woman lazily showed off her body, it was no longer the same as yesterday, it had no shine, it looked deformed, something else. Today's underwear reached up to the navel, the hips were sagged like bags, while the bras covered almost half of the bust that yesterday resembled Greek statues.

"Come on, guys, let's get them playing because they're wearing Korça's jersey pants," Tuti exclaimed, running first with the ball in his hand towards the seashore, where they would do what they did every day, play soccer on the sand.