Approaching the beach the morning after the big storm, Jonathan was not surprised to find the sea calm and blue, nor was he surprised to see a sizeable piece of debris, a rusted metal sphere perhaps three or even four feet in diameter, half buried in the sand. Jonathan knew that debris of all sorts washed up after a churning mayhem such as yesterday’s. What was surprising, though, someone was standing near the object. This far along the shore, Jonathan almost never saw anyone. He’d come to consider it his own private piece of coastline. As he drew closer, he discovered the trespasser was a woman, a very beautiful young woman in a bright red two piece swimsuit. The gentle breeze wafted strands from her long blond hair. She had a camera, and she was taking pictures of the rusted metal sphere.

“Morning,” Jonathan said in greeting.

“Hey there,” the woman replied. “You by chance don’t know what this is?”

Jonathan shook his head. “It wasn’t here yesterday. Probably blew in from the sea in yesterday’s storm, unless the wind uncovered it, or it fell from the sky.”

“An alien spacecraft?” the woman speculated.

Jon chuckled. “Well, it’s not your grandpa’s driftwood.”

The woman smiled. “I was worried it might be a mine.”

“I think it’s a little big for that,” Jon told her.

“Whatever it is, it makes for a good picture,” the woman said. “I think my paper might even print it in color.”

“You work for a print paper?” Jon asked. “Are there still such things?”

“It’s a small town,” the woman said. “Local news and coupons. I’m Cassie, by the way.”

“Great to meet you, Cassie,” Jon said. “I’m Jon. I hope your picture gets published.”

“What might help,” Cassie said, “would be if I could get a shot of you standing next to the thing. For purposes of scale.”

“Sure, happy to help,” Jon said. “Any special way you want me to pose?”

“Just natural would be fine,” Cassie said, gesturing with her camera.

Jon assumed a spoofy muscle beach boy pose.

“Ha ha,” Cassie laughed, but she took the picture. “One thing,” she added, “your red swimsuit kind of clashes with the rust color of the thing.”

“It does?”

Cassie nodded.

“So what do you suggest?” Jon asked.

“If you could possibly take it off.”

“Your small town paper would publish something like that?”

Cassie laughed again. “Only if it wanted ninety percent of the little old ladies in town to die of heart attacks. I just wanted to see if you would do it.”

“I might,” Jon said. “But doesn’t your red suit clash even more?”

“Probably does,” Cassie admitted. “But I’m not in the picture.”

“So you’re saying no?”

Cassie smiled. She took off her top. She peeled off her bottoms. She grinned a “now you” grin at Jon.

Jon shucked his trunks. His sizeable cock hung thick and heavy.

“Maybe ninety-nine percent of the little old ladies,” Cassie said.