No G-string

Bob and Hillon both grew up among the small towns in Kansas, and shared many of the same cultural and developmental influences. Hillon grew up on the farm, and was thoroughly familiar with the ways of the birds and the bees. A huge herd of Hereford helped him handle hundreds of heterosexual happenings among healthy bovine. He knew well that when Herefords are in heat, they become horny, and handle this horniness through “hornication”. As a youngster Hillon frequently found Herfords freely hornicating in the fields of the family farm. For Hillon, he fully funded his family fortune on the farm through selective Hereford hornication. He grew up feeling that hornicating on the farm was just fine. He found it, facilitated it, and profited from it.

Bob grew up in town, and knew nothing about the birds and the bees. His foundation in the fundamentals of hornication he formed through the county fair and the pages of National Geographic, the marks of a thoroughly misspent youth. He was startled and embarrassed on seeing Herefords hornicating in the fields, and often looked away, before others noticed he was watching. He was developmentally deprived, and scarcely knew which end of a fully functioning female came first, – the chicken or the egg. Given these similarities, differences, and the passage of 50 years, Bob and Hillon, with wives in tow, elected to take a journey together to distant lands.

Their trip began in the middle of the winter, a particularly nice time to leave Kansas with its blowing wind and snow. After the long flight overseas and several days driving from Madrid to Lisbon to the Algarve, they arrived in Albufeira, Portugal. The travel through foreign lands was proceeding flawlessly, and the festive vacation had started in style. The weather was calm, warm and beautiful with sunshine every day, a pleasant change from winters on the high plains.

The two couples located their first week’s destination, Club Albufeira, a resort condominium a few minutes from the ocean. Swimming and sunbathing was not in style for the natives, but for the English, Norwegians and Finns, the weather was perfect. Travel brochures had indicated that the area had several remote beaches where those who were inclined could sun to their hearts content wearing only a smile. Bob and Hillon discussed visiting such a beach, which neither had witnessed. This was not encouraged by their respective wives, who claimed they had nothing to wear to such a beach. Bob and Hillon knew better than to argue with this kind of female logic. The thought of nude sunbathing, however, was just enough to confirm that the old boys’ 13 year old adolescents were still alive and well within.

After checking into the resort and unpacking, they all took a drive through the quaint little village, walked down to the beach, which Bob and Hillon scanned quite carefully, and then returned to the resort. After dinner and a bottle of wine, they retired and slept like babies following the long journey. The next day Hillon arose early and took his customary pre-breakfast walk through the neighborhood. Bob, by contrast, got a cup of coffee and went outside of the condominium, where he fetched a chair, and placed it several yards from the building facing the rear-entry stairway and the sundeck of the upper apartment. There he sat, drinking his coffee, staring at the building, and enjoying the lovely climate of the Algarve winter. Both wives were still fast asleep.

There had been a young couple in the apartment directly above the previous day, but their car was gone, suggesting that they may have left for a spell. Then over his coffee cup, Bob noticed movement on the sundeck above. Suddenly a lovely maiden appeared, leaning over the privacy railing of the above apartment. She said “goot morgan” with a pronounced German accent. When she stood straight up from the rail, it was clear that she was wearing a see-through negligee that ended well above her navel. She asked Bob where he was from, and how long he was staying in the resort. Bob’s responses were scarcely intelligible, owing to his mouth, which was still open from shock, and wide-eyed admiration. Finally he managed to choke out a few intelligible responses, and the conversation continued for a while. Bob’s mouth remained open throughout much of this period.

Having broken the ice in this manner, the lovely fraulein considered it timely to shift from her protected perch behind the waist-high privacy railing. She moved toward the stairs, which descended toward Bob to a landing, then returned toward the building at the lower level. While it had a railing, the stairway was fully visible over Bob’s coffee cup and open mouth. She moved to the stairs, then walked down to the landing, six or eight steps. Bob lost count of the steps. His mouth dropped open once again as she moved from behind the privacy railing and onto the stairs. She was totally bare from her navel to her toes. No G-string, no nothing. As she walked down the stairs, it was a frontal sight rarely visible in any venue in Kansas. She talked some more, but Bob, given his delayed development, didn’t remember anything she said from that moment forward.

After what seemed like a complete floorshow, and some more small talk, she decided the conversation was over. She turned around and walked slowly and deliberately back up the stairs, revealing exactly how a mostly bare maiden appears while walking up and away from her admiring patron. Then she went into her condominium, wandered around in her kitchen, and in the process crossed back and forth in front of the open door several times. After that she disappeared from view.

As the floorshow was over, and Bob’s coffee was gone, it seemed appropriate to return for a fresh cup of coffee. With fresh coffee in hand, he returned to the scene of the former action. Bob produced the second show himself from memory, as the fair maiden never returned. On this occasion, the show was strictly a review of the events as they had unfolded, uncovered, or been revealed, but this time with a fresh cup of coffee. The memory was almost as interesting as the original show, as Bob could then puzzle over the fair maiden’s motivation, if any, for the parade. On occasion, a review of such events is almost as exciting as the real thing. Bob’s 13-year-old male was not only alive and well, but he had led Bob back to his second adolescence, where his development had been so badly delayed.

As soon as the travel party was assembled for breakfast, Bob told the full story to all present. With flourishes here and there, he got Hillon’s undivided attention. Hillon reviewed the fact that he was strolling at the time, rather than sitting behind the condo, drinking a cup of coffee with old Bob. This was the second day in Albufeira.

For the next few days, it was of interest that Hillon suspended his early morning walks, and sat with Bob behind the condo drinking coffee. Bob’s memory of the event was clear and vivid, while Hillon’s was one of envy and longing, a strange turn of events, given their diverse upbringing. Hillon even made frequent trips to the rear of the building in anticipation that there might be an encore, but it never happened. After a few days, the car and both residents of the condominium above disappeared, eliminating any chance for a repeat performance.

On one of the following days, the two couples headed for town and the beaches again. Hillon was dragged off into the shops, while Bob headed straight for the beach, camera in hand, expecting that the bathers and sun worshipers might produce some stimulating views for the young male within. On the first trip to a broad sandy stretch, a beautifully endowed young maiden was seen browning it all, front side first. She seemed impervious to the many spectators admiring her part of the beach. From 30 yards away, with the assistance of a telephoto lens, Bob had her in his sights, a glorious exposure. Then suddenly in his viewfinder, Bob saw a hulk of a man rising up onto his elbows just beyond the maiden. He glared directly at Bob through the viewfinder, revealing, perhaps, why the lovely maiden was unconcerned by her public exposure. Choosing cowardice as the better part of valor, Bob lowered his camera immediately, and hustled off the beach.

Shortly thereafter, the two couples met for drinks in the old town square. Bob described the beach event, adding appropriate flourishes as necessary to assure Hillon’s attention. Hillon was all ears. Drawing upon his extensive farm upbringing, he suggested you should never show any interest in the cow when the bull is in the pasture. This is probably the moral of the story, but the experience was also a first, and a second for old Bob, who had never witnessed such carryings on in public before. For Hillon, he may have decided that early morning walks and shopping are far less exciting than sticking close to old Bob, who is still itching to understand the intricate workings of the birds and the bees.

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