The naked duo is chased around the busy beach

“I told you it was a bad idea!” I yell at Annie while we run across the beach.

“H-how could I know that a massage had such nefarious *connotations* in Italian?” she replied, trying to keep pace.

“I think it has the same *connotations* in every language.”

Bless the girl for trying, but damn, we couldn’t have looked shadier if we tried. “Massages! Get your massages here!” I can’t help but cringe in second-hand shame as I recall how Annie shouted that on the beach. A scruffy naked girl offering “naked massages” under the pier…

Well, that isn’t fair. Annie is quite the pretty girl, what with her cute freckles, fuzzy red hair, and never-ending optimism. She even acquired somewhat of a tan, so she isn’t as pale as usual. She is not as gorgeous as I am, but enough to turn heads… unfortunately, those heads belonged to the cops.

I hear the two officers behind us yell something in Italian and I push myself to run faster, trying to hold my chest in place with my left arm. Running with my breasts jumping as if they were on a trampoline is not a pleasant sensation. Annie doesn’t seem to have as much of a problem in that department, with her more, erm, "compact" bust.

“Digan queso!” A flash of light goes off on my left. Annie and I photobombed a happy group of tourists. Great, another precious family memory starring my tits and guest-starring Annie’s. We had so many such photos this past couple of days that we could make an album if we gathered them all.

I look forward and see many more families with much bigger cameras dotting the rest of the beach. Yikes, I don’t want to make that album a reality, so I grab Annie’s wrist and sprint up the stairs to leave the beach.

We quickly climb the stairs, leaving the soft and warm sand under our feet for the firm and colder wood. As soon we reach the top, we get bombarded by an even larger wall of cameras. There’s a whole firing squad lined up and shooting relentlessly at us… Well, not exactly at us, but at the woman posing in front of us.

I whimper and Annie does as well. We are interrupting the photoshoot of a professional model. With all those photos, our album has been upgraded to a full-blown exhibition with its own museum wing. I want to run away, but my legs refuse the command. We stand there with our eyes wide open in a shocked stupor. Even my hands refuse to move, letting the cameras capture every pixel of my brown tits and the unkempt bush between my legs.

A whistle rings in my ear and I remember the helpful officers coming to put us in chains. I drag Annie across the busy seaside path. It is as full of tourists as the beach, but thankfully most don’t have their cameras or phones out. They are mostly sitting in the myriad of restaurants on the beachfront and enjoying an evening meal.

Annie and I sidestep the tables, causing a commotion in the dinners as they see our bare asses grace their precious faces while we jump over their food. Surprisingly, they don’t appreciate such a close look at my lovely rump, and I soon learn quite a few vulgar words in Italian that make my cheeks burn like an oven.

I don’t know if it’s the exercise or the burning humiliation, but my legs start turning to jelly. The cops are gaining on us, so I try one last idea to get them off my (admittedly lovely) tail. I stop, grab a table and flip that bitch on their faces. While the authorities are busy cleaning spaghetti off their shirts, I grab Annie’s wrist and duck into the first open building I see, down by the dock.

As soon as we close the door, we both hit the floor and hide under a desk, taking the chance to pant our lungs out. Yuck, I’m covered with sweat thanks to the chase, and Annie isn’t faring much better. Our skin is glowing under the faint light of the office.

Well, I don’t think we will be staying long in this town anymore, half the tourists and townspeople have my womanly charms burned into their mind eye and think we are crazy exhibitionists, perverted lovers, or worse. Time to move on… as soon as the heat dies down a bit. Also, as soon as my skin doesn’t feel on fire and my lungs aren’t about to burst.

“ Yes boss, the shipment is supposed to be here…” we hear someone speak next to the office’s window.

“You hear that?” Annie whispers. “That’s the sound of not Italian! We can ask him for help.”

“Yes, our illegal shipment of knock-off Adidas arrived from the Port o…” I see Annie attempt to step out and talk to the guy, but she stops herself. The man pauses for a second, it seems he almost spotted us. “Sorry about that. Where was I? …Ugal? What did you say? Oh yeah, it came from there. The last boat on the pier; send your boys to pick it up.”

Annie looks at me, her green eyes wide open. “Oh crap, we can’t ask the mob for help!” I remain silent until I hear the man walk away.

“You think?! But did you hear the rest of the conversation? They are smuggling contraband clothing, we could use that. You know what they say about stealing from a thief?”