Busty Surf Shop Clerk Backroom Handjob on a Summer Morning

On a summer morning, as the sun slowly rose above the horizon and bathed the sea in gold, I stepped into my usual surf shop. Named Wave, this place felt like a second home to this surfer. The sea breeze drifted inside, and the scent of waxed boards tickled my nose. Outside, the low rumble of waves mixed with distant laughter from other surfers. The salty air unique to a summer beach town caressed my skin. Today looked promising for good waves.

The shop was still quiet before opening, with surfboards on the racks gleaming in the morning light. I was looking for a new board. Yesterday's waves had felt lacking, and I wanted a shortboard with better stability. An unfamiliar voice called from behind the counter.

"Good morning! Looking for anything in particular?"

I turned to see a stunning woman standing there. Her name tag read "Tide." Her black hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wore beach sandals, shorts, and a tank top. What caught my eye most was her chest. The tank top stretched tight over her full, voluptuous breasts, which swayed softly in the morning light. Even in the casual surf-shop uniform, the outfit emphasized their volume. My gaze was naturally drawn there. Her skin had a healthy, sun-kissed tan, and a faint trace of ocean scent lingered around her.

"Oh, um… I came to look at new boards. A shortboard with good stability on the waves," I said, quickly looking away and trying to stay composed. Still, I could feel my heart beating faster. Tide smiled brightly and stepped out from behind the counter to stand beside me. Her breasts shifted lightly with the movement, bouncing at the edge of my vision. A sweet shampoo scent mingled with the sea breeze and stirred my senses.

"Got it! You're Wave, right? One of our regulars. We've got some good ones on this rack. There's more stock in the backroom too—want to take a look?" Her voice was bright and light like the waves. Tide was a fitting name; like my own handle, it evoked the ocean. We browsed the racks together, checking boards. She explained the specs in detail. The way her soft hand stroked the board's surface felt strangely erotic and stirred my imagination.

"How about this 9-footer? It should suit your style. If you want a closer look, why not try it in the backroom? It's early, so no one else is around." Tide's eyes sparkled as she smiled invitingly. The backroom… alone with her? An improper thought flashed through my mind, but I brushed it off as nothing more thrilling than surfing. I nodded and followed her toward the rear of the shop.

When she opened the backroom door, a narrow space opened up. Boards and wetsuits were stacked high, and the salty sea smell was stronger here. Morning sunlight streamed through a small window, making dust motes glow. Once the door closed, the sound of waves faded and quiet settled in. Tide pulled a board from the shelf and set it in front of me. Her full breasts now asserted their presence right nearby instead of across the counter. The thin tank top fabric clung to her lightly sweat-dampened skin.

"We can take our time here. You really love surfing, don't you, Wave? I ride waves on my days off too." She leaned against the board, pressing her chest forward as she spoke. I placed my hands on the board and struggled to keep my eyes from wandering. The smooth wax under my fingertips registered, but her gaze heated my skin even more.

"Huh, so you're a surfer too, Tide. Didn't expect that. Especially with… well, your figure." My words came out a bit awkward. She chuckled softly and suddenly touched my arm. Her soft fingertips gently stroked my muscle, sending an electric jolt through me.

"Figure? Haha, thanks. But surfing built it. Maybe these breasts got bigger from all the wave action too." My heart skipped at her words. Though said lightly, her eyes were serious. The backroom air suddenly grew hot and humid. The ocean scent intensified. She stepped closer and whispered in my ear. "Wave, are you already excited this early? You were staring at my body, not the boards, weren't you?"

I was at a loss for words. Her warm, sweet breath brushed my neck. Visually, her breasts were close enough to touch my chest. Aurally, I heard her breathing, steady like the rhythm of waves. "Uh, Tide, I didn't mean…" She silenced my excuse with a finger. My mouth felt dry.

"It's fine. On a summer morning, don't you want a thrill hotter than the waves? I'm good at making waves with my hands." Her voice lowered as her hand reached for the hem of my shorts. Unable to resist, I simply watched. Leaning against the backroom wall, her knee brushed my leg. The sensation was vivid—skin on skin, gentler than surfboard waves yet promising intensity.

Tide slowly lowered my shorts and gently grasped my exposed length. Her hand was warm and slightly moist from the sea breeze. Her full breasts pressed against my arm, the soft sensation stimulating both sight and touch at once. "See, like waves… swaying." True to her words, her hand began to move. Slowly up and down in a wave-like rhythm. My body trembled and my breathing grew ragged. Aurally, my gasps and her soft laughter mingled. The backroom air filled with sweat and ocean scent.

"Wave, you're getting so hard… My hand feels like waves, doesn't it? A titjob would be nice too, but today it's all hands." She brought her lips to my ear, whispering while her hand worked. The rhythm gradually quickened, rising and falling like sets of waves. The tactile sensation peaked. Her fingers wrapped tenderly around my sensitive tip, thumb stroking the head. My vision blurred; the sight of her swaying cleavage was intensely erotic. Olfactorily, sea salt and her sweat mixed, heightening arousal.

Conversation came in fragments. "Tide… ah, that's intense… not so hard…" When my voice escaped, she narrowed her eyes and smiled. "Waves come on strong. Feel it more. My hand glides just like a wave breaking." Her words matched the theme. Her hand's undulating rhythm surfed my body. Psychologically, guilt and pleasure intertwined. Doing this in the backroom—what if someone saw? Yet that very risk thrilled me. The morning quiet only amplified the excitement.

Climax approached. Tide's hand sped up; my hips moved unconsciously. Visually her full breasts shook vigorously; aurally my moans echoed. Tactilely I reached the peak—hot waves coursed through me. "Ah, Tide… I'm coming…!" With my cry I released. Her hand grew slick like sea spray as warm fluid spurted. Olfactorily my scent joined the ocean brine. I bit my lip and tasted a hint of blood.

Afterglow followed. Tide wiped her hand with a handkerchief and straightened my shorts. Her face looked satisfied, her full breasts still rising and falling with her breath. "Heh, better than surfing? Special summer-morning service." I leaned against the wall, catching my breath. Morning light streamed through the backroom window, gently illuminating everything. The ocean scent lingered, and the afterglow of waves remained in my body. We returned to talking about boards, yet something deeper now connected us.

When I left the shop, the sound of waves reached me and my body still felt hot. Tide waved and said "Come again," and I headed for the beach. Today's surfing would surely bring the best waves. But in my heart, the rhythm of her hand would forever roll like waves. This episode was now etched into my summer memories.