Ben spotted the cart, but she wasn't there. A different woman was, a rather plain looking middle aged woman with silver teeth.
"Well shit!" he said to himself. "Oh well. Now that I'm here I might as well make use of the time."
Right away he spotted a pair of haole girls, tourists with pale, slightly sunburned skin. Both had on shiny leotards and tight, bell bottomed jeans. He fell in behind them, strolling through the maze of shops that sold the gaudy trinkets that only tourists bought. He was glad that they were walking, as the movement produced delightful sensations from his cock as it rubbed against the nylon peddi pants he wore under his jeans.
He never took his eyes off them, watching their every move like a judge at a beauty contest. Both were blonds. One had short, straight hair, the other longer, just past her shoulders, blow dried and full of body. The short-haired girl was wearing a light blue leotard with thin shoulder straps. The other's was dark blue and long sleeved.
Both had very nice tits that jiggled as they walked. He loved the way every step they took made the gleaming surface catch the light in ripples of movement. Not the same jiggle as a bare breasted woman, he noted, or a lovely young lady in a billowy silk blouse worn braless. The leotards were very tight, and squashed their tits into flatter, rounder shapes. He always found the effect exciting, because of the way it suggested that their tits were bound tightly, perhaps painfully, and producing lots of pleasurable sensations.
Their nipples made nice little bumps in the tight, stretchy fabric. He thought about pinching them, and running his fingernails over them to tickle them the way he had played with his cock the night before.
But most of all he imagined that they had wrapped the crotch of their leotards with silky cord, and that the knotted lumps were pulled up tight into the outer lips of their cunts the same his had been stuck up his ass the night before.
They stopped to watch a guy making air brushed tee shirts, then went to look at kukui nut leis. He studied their every twist and turn, mesmerized by the way the light glinted off of the shiny fabric, highlighting their every curve. The thought of them secretly enjoying intense sexual pleasure while trying to act normal, just as he was, drove him crazy with lust. His own ass still ached from the leotard he had worn the night before, just as he had done on the way to Carol's the day before that.
He let his mind float, and a fantasy scene came into focus. He had the two of them tied up the way Carol had strung him up, standing with their arms held up over their heads. They wore the leotards, but nothing else, their cunts bulging out around the tight lumps of rope. Then he added a new idea, one that surprised him for its ingenuity.
The girls were standing a few feet apart, face to face, their wrists bound together and pulled by ropes high up over their heads. The rope from each girl's wrists went up through a pulley, which in turn hung by another rope from another pulley in the ceiling. The rope from one girl's wrists came down and was tied around the top of the crotch of the other girl's leotard, so that when one of them pulled her arms down it pulled the other girl's leotard deeper into her cunt. The upper pulleys let him adjust the tension. He was taking turns tickling them, along their sides and especially their breasts and nipples. They were both screaming with laughter and pleading with him to stop. He knew that he wasn't supposed to, because they had invited him back to their room and explained to him just exactly what they wanted.
The girls had stopped to buy ice cream cones, and were laughing as they tried to keep the ice cream from melting too fast and dripping all over them. He drank in the sound of it, imagining that it was what he would hear if he could only tickle them. He had never really connected tickling with sex until Carol's story, but he had been infatuated with the thought ever since.
He kept imagining the two of them strung up before him, writhing in anguish as he tormented them, the soft, silky ropes pressing up hard between their legs, holding them at the height of arousal but not letting them come, or making them come over and over. His original idea was to have their legs spread wide, to allow the wrapped crotches of the leotards dig as far as possible into their cunts. Then he saw another possibility, which was to tie their ankles together, making it difficult to stand. That would cause them to lose their balance, and as they caught themselves almost their entire weight would be pulling against the rope that pulled up on the other's cunt.
Just then a slender local girl caught his eye, wearing a black spandex bathing suit with a towel wrapped around her waist. Her long black hair was still wet. He guessed that she had gone for a sunset swim and was on her way home. He was watching her pass by, intending to stick with the blonds, when her towel slipped off. He was awe struck at what he saw as she grabbed the towel and replaced it. Her suit was a one piece, but cut very high at the sides and very narrow in front and back. He had never seen a suit like that before. He decided that he had had enough of the blonds, and took off after her, intent on getting a look at her face and hoping for another look at her without the towel.
He had to follow her for about a minute before he got a good look at her. She was quite young, his age or younger. She was not a knockout, but without makeup she had that fresh, clean look that the young local girls so often had. All she needed was a big hibiscus in her hair and she could have been on a travel poster.
As he followed her along a side street he couldn't help wondering about her suit. The tight, shiny nylon ran in a narrow strip between her legs and then up, up, and up, gradually curving out and getting to her sides way up past her hips. He couldn't help but think that the only way that such a suit could stay in place was to have it pull snugly up against her crotch, which meant that it was hugging her cunt in a tight embrace. He couldn't help thinking that wearing something like that might produce a very pleasurable feeling, which was just the kind of thing that excited him so much.
Even as he watched her he thought about her in a much more provocative pose. She was kneeling on the floor, her ankles tied together, her arms pulled behind her and held in place by a rope that ran down to her ankles. He had dressed her in a bra and panties, only of a design that squeezed her most sensitive places. Her feet were decorated with spike heeled pumps. Her panties had an open crotch, and he was teasing her with a wicked looking dildo while tickling her tits with a big fluffy feather. She was begging him to let he come, but he skillfully held her near the edge without letting her go all the way.
Finally she came to her car, a rusty old Volkswagon bug with surf racks. She had to cross the street to get to it, and he chose to stay on the opposite side. As she opened the door she turned and noticed him watching her, and to his great surprise she smiled at him. Then she did something that really blew his mind. She turned to face the car, slipped off the towel, and reached down and pulled the back of her suit up between the cheeks of her ass, where it completely disappeared. Then she bent over and spread the towel over the seat. Her bare butt waved in the evening air, a thin black line splitting it in two, bulging slightly where it disappeared between her legs. Then she got in, smiled at him again, and drove off.
Ben was numb. He just stood there, not moving, trying to etch the memory of what he had just seen forever in his brain. Her last smile had really gotten to him. It was as if she had said 'What did you think of that?'
He recalled Carol's words, that there were indeed women in the world that liked to play at sex just as much as he did. The thought was reassuring, but he wondered when he was going to get the opportunity to play with one. A jet was passing overhead, off on its journey to some distant place. The sound, echoing through the concrete canyons that surrounded him, made him feel lonely.
He had started off the evening looking for the woman he had met the night before, intending to ask her out. He was very uncomfortable about it, as she was obviously older than him. Not as old as Carol, and blessed with that timeless look that some Asian women have. She could have been twenty, or thirty. He had no idea.
Saturday morning with Carol had inspired him to action, and for the first time in his life he had gone down to Waikiki with the idea of just watching the girls go by. Meeting one had not been a big goal, but he had been open to the possibility.
His talk, and play, with Carol had been a breakthrough for him. He finally realized that his ideas about sex were not weird or perverted, just a little off-beat. That afternoon he had decided that he had spent enough time masturbating with her sexy clothes and thinking about girls dressed that way. It was time to go and see some, to see that women really did dress that way, and to meet one who did.
He had originally intended to go straight, but as the time approached he found himself engaged in a furious mental debate about wearing his leotard and enjoying the feeling it would provide. He couldn't decide if letting go meant doing what he enjoyed, or giving that up. At the last minute he decided that he should try again what he so often fantasized women doing, and wore the leotard.
He had been pounding the pavement for over three hours when he saw her. During that time he had seen fourteen women wearing something that could have come from Carol's closet, clothes that drove him crazy to look at. All of the women were young, mostly local girls out on dates. Ten were wearing long, slinky dresses. Two had on bell bottom pants like the ones he had worn at Carol's. Whenever he could he followed them, looking for signs that they might be enjoying the special, sensual feeling of their clothes. Every time he did he got a huge erection, and the burning sensation of the leotard pulling up his ass made it even better.
One girl, very pretty, had on red pants and a matching top that fit loosely in front and consisted of little more than strings crisscrossed in the back. The pants were straight, but baggy, and made from shiny nylon that flowed like water. He had gotten close enough to see that it was the exact same type of fabric as Carol's yellow dress was made of, and knowing how good that felt to wear made watching her very interesting.
That outfit had especially excited him because he could see from her bare back that she couldn't have been wearing a bra, which meant that her breasts were bare beneath the slinky fabric. The top was rather loose and moved a lot as she walked, rippling and fluttering in the light evening breeze. The thought of those bare breasts rubbing against the cool slinky fabric really turned him on. He also saw no sign of a panty line, and she was not wearing stockings. That could only mean that her legs and ass were experiencing the same sensuous feelings as her breasts.
Again he thought of Carol's story, about the girl at the prom being so aroused by her dress and wanting to be tickled. As he watched the girl in the red nylon outfit he imagined that she was very ticklish, and the cool, silky fabric was tickling her and driving her crazy. The only thing she wanted was to go somewhere where she could be alone with her date and make love with him. But first she would ask him to tie her arms behind her back and tickle her nipples. Then he would move to her legs, and slowly up to her crotch, tickling her there for a long time. He thought about them parked in some secluded place, the windows rolled up. He was watching them, and although he couldn't see much he could hear her muffled screams, and see their car bouncing as she thrashed around in her seat.
The other really hot item had been a woman wearing the exact same kind of pants as Carol's. Then were a light brown, almost copper color. She had on a matching jacket, open in front, and under it a blouse of the same fabric only in a creamy white. She was perhaps in her late thirties, strolling down the sidewalk with a man her age wearing white pants and shoes and one of those expensive aloha shirts the kamaaina men liked so much. They just kind of meandered along, which gave him plenty of time to look.
She was just not quite the type that he would call sexy, so he imagined that she was much younger, and on a date with him. He wondered how he would feel going to pick her up and having her appear dressed like that, and wondered if such a thing would ever happen to him. He knew it did for some men, but to him it seemed as likely as winning the Irish Sweepstakes. He tried to put himself in her partner's place, strolling down the sidewalk with her, looking at her in her sexy clothes, eagerly anticipating what might happen later.
He kept thinking about how good it felt to wear those pants as Carol ran her nails over his thighs. He didn't know which excited him more, being out with a girl who knew how horny her outfit made him and that later he was going to tie her up and tickle her in it, or having it be their first time together and introducing her to his special brand of sex play.
Every time he spotted one of these women he did his best to follow her, as unobtrusively as possible. Once he followed a girl in a long, blue slip of a dress into a hotel elevator, which happened to go non-stop to the top floor where there was a very fancy restaurant. There was only the three of them in the elevator, the girl, her date, and himself. Her date had slipped his arm around her waist and was lightly running his fingers across the small of her back. She smiled in a funny way, twitching a little and lifting her head slightly, scrunching the back of her head down between her shoulders. Then, to Ben's surprise, her companion lowered his hand and started the run his fingertips across her ass. She yelped, twisted away and punched him on the shoulder the way local girls always seem to do. Then she said "Don't, that tickles!" and Ben nearly fainted. A moment later the doors slid open, and he watched them leave, holding hands as if nothing had happened. He rode down by himself, his knees still wobbling.