My name is Kelly, and I used to be a lifeguard. This is the story of the day I lost that job.
I guess it was natural that I became one in the first place. I was a good swimmer, and I looked the part: blonde hair, nice boobs, long legs, filling out my uniform (yellow one-piece swimsuit) pretty nicely. My friends teased me sometimes, calling me "Baywatch", but it was all good-natured. Whenever I saw myself in the suit I had to admit they had a point.
The one drawback was that some people (like my boss, Mike) assumed that a pretty blonde girl couldn't possibly have any brains. As if everyone had a limited amount of good qualities, and shining in one area meant you had to skimp in another. Mike never seemed to give me a break. We all make little mistakes from time to time, and usually we fix them right away. But my boss never gave me the benefit of the doubt.
He didn't seem to treat the other girls so harshly, and they all liked him, said he was cute. I agreed that on the surface that he had good looks: bright eyes, strong chin, muscular, flat abs and tight butt... yet the way he was on the inside colored that impression for me. He wasn't handsome in my eyes.
All in all, everything else about the job was cool, so Mike I learned to put up with.
I was 20 years old, and going to community college. When classes were out, it was a pretty good life: work in the morning, then get cleaned up and go shopping, or see some friends, and think about where to go out that night. My beach was behind a reef so the surf was very gentle, and the surfers and risk-takers went elsewhere. In two summers I had never had to rescue anyone.
That Friday morning I woke up late, with just enough time to get my swimsuit and drive to the beach. My yellow one-piece, which I had hand-washed last night, should have been hanging over the shower curtain to drip dry. But it wasn't there. I was frantically looking for it when my little sister said she might have accidentally put it in the dryer. "It's not supposed to go in there!" I yelled.
I pulled stuff out into a basket, looking for my suit. Like I was afraid of, it had shrunk. A lot. I held it up in front of me: even hanging down flat, it was too small now. No way would it cover me in 3-D. I yelled some not-so-nice things at my sister, and Mom yelled at me. The day was starting out great.
Now I was in a bind. I had no other swimsuit. No store would be open at 9 am. I knew I couldn't skip that day, because we were short-staffed. No one to take my place. I had to show up to work; what was I going to wear?
It was getting late, and I had no ideas, so I just kept on what I wore to bed: an aqua blue tank top with a ribbed pattern, and gray fleece shorts. This was an ugly outfit, but I figured it should be a slow day and I probably wouldn't even have to leave my chair until Bernice came in to relieve me. I could count on her not to rat me out to Mike for not having proper attire. And the lifeguard chair was so big and so high, that from the beach people could barely see anything except my arms and head. So even with my shorts and tank, I would probably be OK.
I drove really fast, but still got to the beach five minutes late, bracing myself for trouble. However, there was only one blanket set up: a mom and her little boy, playing in the sand. If I was lucky, no one would ever know I wasn't at my post at exactly 9:00. I had never been late up to that point. Still, in Mike's eyes, I would become the ditzy blonde who was always late and lost her swimsuit... unless he never found out. I took off my shoes and walked across the sand to my chair.
It's a funny thing about the chairs we had: the guard had a great view of the water and a so-so view of the beach. But unless you were in the water, people on the beach really couldn't see much of me; the angle was wrong. With no one in the water, it was like I had the beach to myself. After the hectic scene at home, and the race to get here, I could finally relax.
The sun was behind me, and already pretty warm on my skin. I took out the sunblock and started doing my arms and face. With our one-piece suits, it was pretty easy to reach everywhere that wasn't already covered, which was essential when we were sitting in the sun for hours at a time. Because I was really strict with myself about protecting my skin, I would usually go through summer without much of a tan. Sort of ironic given my job.
I took a few deep breaths to really calm down; something my friend Felice had taught me. Now I was feeling pretty relaxed and all the stress was gone. It was a close call, but things were going to be OK. Just another routine day. And that was good.
The tank top and shorts covered part of the same area as the one-piece had, and in a few minutes I was done with the sunblock. No more people had shown up at the beach as far as I could tell, and still no one was in the water. Now there was little to do except wait and watch. There was an ocean liner a few miles off, and a stretch of low clouds at the horizon. The air stirred a little; barely a breeze. It was very calm.
The warm sun and sound of the surf were making me a little sleepy. I wasn't worried; people would soon start to trickle in and venture into the water. Just watching people have fun tended to keep my interest, and if trouble developed I would notice right away.
One drawback with my improvised wardrobe: the tanktop and shorts heated up in the sun a lot more than my reflective yellow swimsuit did. Usually it was only the hottest days of summer that we would need to drink extra fluids, or spritz water on ourselves to cool down. Today wouldn't have been one of those days. But the tank top in particular was getting uncomfortably hot.
Not that I could do anything about it; I was stuck here until eleven, when Bernice would spot me. I would take the buggy to the guard office and hopefully snag a spare swimsuit. But right now, I was stuck with my top.
Or was I?
I gave this a lot of thought. What if I took the top off? I wasn't wearing a bra. Not only was going topless on the beach not allowed, but I had never bared my breasts outside before anyway. The thought was a little scary.
On the other hand, basically nobody was here. In my guard chair I had extra privacy anyway. I would see anyone approaching before they could see me. If that was all true, then I should be able to take off the top for a little while, and I'd be able to put it back on before anyone could see me. Right?
This struck me as not only scary, but kind of naughty; but instead of dissuading me, that feeling helped convince me to try it. The more I considered it, the more it seemed like some innocent fun. Maybe after the summer I would tell Bernice what I had done that Friday morning. I sat up and looked around -- the coast (ha ha) was still clear -- and then leaned back, scrunching down as much as I could, and pulled my top about halfway upward.
An inch or so of the bottoms curves of my breasts were out. Now's not the time to chicken out, I thought. I lifted the top a little higher, up away from my chest now, following the swells of my breasts. I stopped just below my nipples, thinking, OK, this would be the time to turn back if I wanted to. But I realized that without a bra, my nipples had been poking against the thin cloth anyway. And what's the difference if no one can see me anyway? I took a deep breath and took the top completely off.
Wow. Instead of the hot fabric, which was making me perspire, there was just the pleasantly warm sun and air on my bare skin. It felt so good! The heat reminded me that I'd better put sunblock on the newly exposed areas, or I'd have one painful, hard to explain sunburn. I smiled. I had never sunbathed topless before, and now I was doing it, and getting paid $16 an hour for it!
I first did my tummy and sides, and then my shoulders and back, as far as I could reach. Just putting off the inevitable, really. My breasts, unused to being in the open air, I did last.
If just being out here topless was naughty, then imagine how I felt rubbing lotion on my bare breasts. I couldn't help it: I was getting aroused, and even after I had thoroughly rubbed in the sunblock, getting complete coverage, I still was caressing them. I just didn't feel like stopping. I've touched myself before, I think we all have, but only in my bedroom with the door locked and everyone gone or downstairs. Doing it here, outside, was a lot more exciting.
At some point I closed my eyes. I wasn't sleepy anymore; parts of my body were wide awake... but I was feeling languid, and almost as if I was floating on the water outside instead of here in the chair. The water was warm, the perfect temperature, and all my stress was floating away.
I knew my nipples were hard now, like the tips of my little fingers; I could feel them, now part of the contours of my body, more things to play with. For the first time I started thinking, what if I made myself come, playing like this? I knew exactly how to do this, but I wanted to take my time. At that thought, part of me (my conscience?) was shouting "what are you doing?", but after a while that voice receded, as if drifting out on the water, away from me. I cupped my breasts, fondling them, imaging a guy doing this, like I had been walking around topless for some reason. Maybe in St. Tropez. A guy sees me, wearing nothing but a little thong, and is unable to resist my temptations.
I wanted more. Now my right hand was reaching underneath my fleece shorts; I always left the strings untied, so the waistband stretched easily. While I fondled my breast with the other hand, I reached down between my legs. First my thatch of pubic hair, and I got a thrill out of that: whenever a boy I was with first went there, it was obvious we weren't just making out anymore, things were getting serious. I spread my knees a bit and slunk lower in the seat.
I reached further underneath my shorts, and I found my slit. Of course I was already wet. I teased myself at first, stroking my lips with a gentle fingertip. I cannot exaggerate how good that felt. My palm stroked my mound as my finger drew along my sensitive lips. My nipples seemed even firmer, my breasts taut.
I inserted a finger, and then started getting myself off for real. Looking back, I wonder if I was making some noise which would have been obvious to anyone close enough to hear. But at that point I didn't care about anything but my sense of touch.
The shorts didn't provide any obstacle as I touched myself. But still they were annoying me; I wanted them completely off. I didn't want anything covering me. I guess a small part of me was still thinking practically, because I didn't simply kick them off into the sand. I decided that if I slid them down to my knees, I would still have time to quickly pull them back up and put on my top if someone approached. (My eyes were closed, I wasn't paying attention to the outside world, so that plan didn't make sense, but whatever.) I propped myself up on elbows and toes, and scooched my shorts down to my thighs. I lowered my bare bottom back onto the wooden seat, baked dry by years of sun, but thankfully not scorching hot right then. I slid my shorts down, nearly all the way off; instead of at my knees, I left them around my ankles. Even so, I wished my feet could also be free. But I was too chicken to let go of everything.
Now I was sitting there basically naked, legs spread, being very naughty, not a care in the world. I don't know how long I stayed that way, touching myself like that. I was starting to fantasize about other guys, other situations, but nothing really took hold. Eventually my hunger overpowered my desire to hold back, and I let myself come really hard. I couldn't believe it. The many nights I had sex with my boyfriend (we split up last May), it was never as good as this. I sat there for a long time recovering, letting the sun warm my bare skin. My eyes were shut. My legs were splayed apart. One hand rested on my moist pussy, while the other continued to idly caress my breast, almost on its own.
After my heartbeat slowed down, I opened my eyes, ready to return to the real world.
The beach and the water were full of people.
I sat up, overwhelmed, shocked, and I didn't move for a few moments, stunned. A lot of people were looking directly at me: how much did they see? Everything? I covered my breasts, and then remembered my shorts were down, too. First things first. I hastily pulled my shorts back up, using both hands. People got a few more peeks at my breasts, but I couldn't help that.
Even worse, I could see someone had swam out far beyond the others, and was calling for help!
Oh shit, I thought. How long had he been out there? I had that sinking feeling. I was busted, I was so fired. But my practice and training kicked in and I knew what I would have to do. But first, I'd have to put on my tank top, and I reached for where it should have been, right beside me.
It was gone.
I covered my breasts with one arm and looked around, really trying not to panic, because seconds were ticking by and I needed to go out there immediately. But the top was nowhere to be found! Now I was terrified of going out there, but I knew I had no choice. Someone's life in danger was more important than my comfort, or appearance, or embarrassment. The training had drilled that into us, and fortunately I hadn't forgotten.
I had to climb down the ladder to the sand. My throat went dry. There were a *lot* of people here, and they all could see my bare breasts bobbing as I climbed. I couldn't cover up until I had both feet on the ground. I turned and ran into the surf as fast as I could, looking very silly, hands over my boobs.
I was already so embarrassed I wanted to cry. Maybe I could move to Montana after this. Far away from anyone on this beach or anyone I knew.
When I dove into the water, my shorts instantly soaked up water and became heavy. As I swam, they slid back, baring my bottom and then my thighs, getting dragged down toward my feet! What a stupid idea to wear these clothes here! I would have been better off with a bra and panties. Even if they became see-through when wet, it was still better than losing them altogether!
I stood up in the shallow surf and pulled my shorts back up, aware that I was flashing my bare butt to the entire beach. If people could actually die of shame, I would have dropped right there.
I had already prepared myself for when I had to come back to shore with the guy I was rescuing; people had seen my boobs once, and they would see them again. There was no avoiding that. But to lose my shorts and have to go back there completely naked -- no way could I let that happen. Absolutely no way.
I swam with one hand, holding up my shorts with the other. Much slower going, but fortunately the guy calling for help was still head above water. I finally reached him; he was flailing and spitting water, bobbing in the waves, but not going under. He looked about my age, maybe a few years older. He must have thought he was a better swimmer than he really was. "Don't panic," I shouted as I floated next to him. "I'm going to bring you back to shore. What's your name?"
"Gus," he said, coughing a bit, but he was obviously still breathing fine. He was going to be OK. I felt a little better too; sure I had been embarrassed back at the beach, but here I was saving someone's life. And it sounds a little silly, but at that point it didn't matter what I was wearing. I was going to do a good job and all my training would pay off.
"OK, Gus, come here." I took his arms and he clung to me like a life preserver, arms around me, hands on my back. I don't know if he was expecting a handrail or what, but my bare skin was slippery in the water. His hands were all over my back. Even in his panic, he noticed something was odd. "Are you naked?" he said, as he moved one hand lower to check.
"Never mind that, Gus," I said, reaching back to move his hand away from my ass. "Just stay calm and we'll take you to safety."
He hugged me tightly, squeezing my breasts against his chest. "I don't want to drown," he cried.
"Don't hang on so tight," I said, pushing him away a little bit. "I'm not going to lose hold of you. I need to be able to move to bring you in." He was OK for a little bit but then he panicked and hugged me again, his chin on my shoulder. One of his hand slipped over my bare breast, his finger accidentally tweaking my nipple.
I was starting to lose my confidence and get really annoyed at him. It was more his fault, not mine, that I was out here topless, that tons of people had already seen me as I went in. If he hadn't screwed up I could still be in my chair and no one the wiser. And now, because of him, I'd have to give everyone a peep show all over again when I brought him back. His fault. Damn him for going out farther than he could swim, for not knowing his limits!
A wave took us by surprise and tilted us over, so I was sort of on my back and his face ended up between my breasts, which were now out of the water. I could tell he was fascinated by all this, staring intently at them as I paddled to stay afloat. I needed to get back to upright and get him off my chest. He was staring at my right nipple, still erect from before, and as I was thinking, no, he can't possibly be thinking of that, he put it in his mouth!
"Hey!" I cried, outraged; but he kept going; and with one hand started fondling my other breast. I could not believe this! From the shock, or the sensation of being played with, I no longer had strength or composure to get myself upright, or to fend him off.
I was getting hot. I didn't want to, but sometimes the body doesn't obey the brain. And my body didn't mind as his other hand, which had been on the small of my back, inched downward and underneath my shorts to my butt. During all this, he hadn't said a word. But somehow, part of my mind snapped into gear, and instead of trying to right myself I simply pushed him off. He went under a bit, but then bobbed back up.
"Do that again, and I'll fucking leave you out here!" I yelled, as I cinched up my waterlogged shorts.
"I'm sorry," he said, all innocent looking.
"Now come back, face to face, but at arm's length, and I'll take you in." I paddled over to him and got ready, but then another wave came, and he panicked again. He seemed to want to climb my like a tree and sit atop my shoulders, completely out of the water. He didn't get that far as his hands and feet flailed, trying to get a grip. Unfortunately, one foot got caught in the waistband of my shorts, and pushed it down to my knees.
I screamed again and pushed him away, and reached for my shorts. However, they were now sliding down my calves, just out of reach. I started panicking; I really didn't want to lose the only clothing I had! I brought my legs up to bring the shorts within reach, but instead they slipped farther down, bunching around my ankles. "Come on," I said to myself, bringing my knees to my chest.
I almost had the shorts when another wave came, filling my mouth with salt water, and I had to kick and paddle to stay afloat. Now my shorts just barely hung off one foot. The other foot was completely free! I jammed my feet together to try to keep the shorts from slipping off.
The guy had paddled toward me, and once again tried to climb on top of me. "No!" I yelled, but then I was thrust underwater. I kicked back up to surface, and made sure he was still floating. OK. Now back to getting my shorts on. But at that point my heart sank as my feet were completely free. The shorts had fallen off! I had a guy to bring back to shore, and I was naked!
"Stay there!" I yelled and dove under. I could see drifting sand; some rocks and shells; and the guy's kicking feet; but no shorts. C'mon, where were they? They had to be close by. I ran out of air, had to surface, and dove again. But I couldn't find them. By the time I surfaced again, I was crying. "I hope you're satisfied, you jerk!"
He had floated back into me and had one arm around my back, and the other was underwater; I didn't know where it was, until it went straight between my legs. He probed a few moments with a finger, and then inserted it inside me. I just yelled something at him. I didn't even know what to say. I couldn't believe what was going on.
"You really are naked," he said. "Don't you wear a swimsuit?"
"Shut. Up!" I said and shoved him away. I wished I could just let him stay there. I could swim underwater and come to shore a mile north, where there was no public beach. And then somehow find my way home. But he was my responsibility. If something happened to him... that would be a lot worse than being seen naked.
I yanked him toward me and let him hang, sort of piggyback style, on as I swam back. It was slow going. He held onto my shoulder with one hand, and had another arm around my stomach. His hand moved around as I tried to swim, and once he had hold of my right breast, he stayed there. I was too defeated to care. He fondled and squeezed it, playing with my nipple with a free finger, or gently trapping it between two. I just let him do it. Things were already at their worst.
We were getting closer to shore, and a lot of people were watching us come in. If they didn't already know I was naked, they would soon.
I was dead tired and had to stop. "We'll float here for a second," I said. He still hung off my back. His face was against the back of my neck, and he started kissing me there, at the nape of the neck and my shoulder. "Please don't do that," I said wearily. But he ignored me. His left hand slipped off my shoulder and under my arm, and now he was pawing my breasts with both hands. "Please," I cried, completely out of strength.
He pulled me close to him, and I could feel his erection beneath his swim trunks, poking at my bottom. He reached one arm around my chest for leverage, and with his other hand moved down, between my legs. "Why are you naked?" he asked again, but I don't think he cared much about an answer. I shuddered as he teased my labia and then inserted a finger inside.
I couldn't believe this. Completely naked, floating in the water, a stranger having his way with me; and my legs had started to spread apart, as if I was welcoming it!
Something told me that if I climaxed out here in the water I would never get the strength back to take him to shore. So I kicked and leaned forward, swimming away, and he held onto my hips like a kickboard, and I towed him in.
Pretty soon it was shallow enough for us to stand as I walked him in. So many people were staring at me. I avoided their eyes, looking at the ground. As the receding water showed more and more, I ended up doing a slow striptease for them. I wished I could crawl in a hole and die. First my bare shoulders were revealed, and then there were whoops and hollers from the crowd as they saw my breasts. At this point I was already crying from embarrassment. As I got even closer, and it was obvious I was wearing nothing at all, the noise got even worse. I could even see people with cameras.
Finally we were on dry land, away from the waves. Water was dripping off my bare body and making little pats of mud in the sand. I was required to make sure the guy was all right, and I asked him that. He hugged me again, tight and lingering, and thanked me for rescuing him. Then, whispering in my ear, he asked me to come home with him! "No way," I cried, pushing him away. I didn't know what to do next other than find my car and go home.
The crowd of people wasn't interested in clearing a path for me. I tried to wave them aside, and was prepared to push my way through, even though that would open me up to a lot of groping and fondling from the boys and men there. I didn't bother trying to cover up. They had already seen everything. Then I heard a familiar voice call my name, and found out, yes, things could indeed get worse.
Mike, my boss, was here.
"What in the hell are you doing?" He was nearly screaming, he was so pissed off. He glanced once at the guy I rescued, judged he was OK, then turned back to glare at me. "God, what is wrong with you?" He shook his head and then yanked my arm, pulling me away, walking so fast I nearly tangled my feet and fell.
He realized that he was out here in public and representing the lifeguards, and said some sort of apology to the crowd, and assured them that I would no longer be working here. I felt like dirt, standing there crying, having screwed up everything.
"Let's go," he said, and dragged me forward. The crowd parted for him, cheering and whistling, as he took me to his buggy. He had the small one that really only fit one person. He sat down and lifted me onto his lap. Then, with one hand on the steering wheel and one around my waist, we were riding along the beach, toward the guard house.
"I want to go home!" I sobbed. He didn't reply; apparently so angry he couldn't even speak. There were lots of people we passed by, kids, teens and adults, and they all must have wondered what the story was behind this naked girl being driven on a four-wheel dune buggy. I was surprised Mike didn't start fondling my breasts, or reaching between my legs. My body was right there for him, on his lap. I was relieved he didn't do anything then, because I had little will to resist.
When we got to the shack, he was treating me more gently, and led me into the equipment room. There were surfboards, tanks, and other things along the walls, and a long bench in the center. He sat me down, faced me, and took a deep breath to calm down. "I'd say that was the mother of all blonde moments," he said.
He was calmer now, but how he said that, on top of all the other times he had called me a ditz, was as malicious as ever. I started crying again, and that renewed his anger.
"What you did out there reflects badly on our entire team. I don't even want to think about the bad publicity we'll have, and how fucking long it will take to get our good reputation back. Look at yourself! You certainly live up to your hair color, don't you?"
He wouldn't leave that alone. I couldn't face him, and looked at the floor. "I want some clothes," I said.
"There aren't any here," Mike said. He put a hand on my shoulder and another on my chin, gently lifting my head up. My eyes must have looked really red. "Kelly, I need you to tell me what happened. From the very beginning. I need to know what, when, how and why."
I huddled myself, legs crossed and arms folded over my chest. There was still a lot showing. I told him everything, from the beginning of this story, but tried to dance around the fact that I was masturbating in the guard chair. I probably didn't do to well. Anyway, he was mostly quiet. The one thing he said was "Your mother was right," and I demanded to know what he meant, but he wouldn't answer. When I finished, I was surprised to see I had gained some sympathy.
He sighed. "Kelly, you made some really bad decisions, but still you've been through a hell of an experience. I think anyone would feel shellshocked at this point." He got me a bottle of water from the cooler and let me drink. "Now is this the first time you did something like this?"
"Yes!" I said, indignant.
"There wasn't something with your friend? What's her name, Felicia?"
"Oh my god! Felice!" Now I remembered. It had been only two days ago. But how had Mike heard about it?
Felice is a good friend and is also my age. She's part Brazilian and Polynesian, and really gorgeous. A few inches shorter than me, but really curvy build, big breasts, nice butt, glossy black hair, and really bright eyes. She can look at you and smile, and it's the best feeling in the world that she likes you.
On Wednesday, two days earlier, she called up around lunchtime and asked what I was doing. It was my day off, so not much at all. Probably read for a while, then maybe go shopping.
She suggested laying out in my backyard and then going to dinner somewhere. That sounded good. When she arrived, I had a cooler with some drinks, a blanket, a book, some sunscreen, and tanning goggles. These looked like swim goggles but were opaque, and protected your eyes like sunglasses but without the raccoon effect. Felice had never seen them, so I had to explain what they were.
We picked our spots and I put the goggles on. I decided to lay on my stomach first. Felice offered to put sunscreen on the hard-to-reach places, and ended up doing my entire back. She untied my bikini top and moved the strings to either side. This was the first time I had laid out to get a tan all summer.
("I thought you didn't have any swimsuits left after the one-piece got shrunk," said Mike; and I was really disoriented for a moment. Of course I had other swimsuits; about five of them, in my little drawer! Why on Friday did I not think I had any? I was really upset with myself for this, but Mike asked me to continue.)
I dozed off after a while, laying there on the towel, and woke when Felice tapped my shoulder. "Time to turn over," she said. I was still groggy when I turned over, so it wasn't until I was lying on my back that I realized my top was off. I covered with one arm and blindly tried to find my top with the other hand. My goggles were still on, and I couldn't see anything.
"It's OK," said Felice. "I just put it aside. There's nobody looking, anyway. What's to worry about?"
"There's a 15-year old boy next door with a second-story bedroom!" I said. "He could easily see us!"
There was a pause, and then Felice laughed. "I guess there is. I think I saw his curtain move."
"Give me my top! He's looking at me right now!"
"It's no big deal," she said. "Here." She took my hand and placed it on her bare breast. She was topless too. "I took off my top as soon as you had turned over. That was an hour ago."
"Still, I don't think we should be -"
"And how about this," Felice said. She moved my hand slowly down her side, to her waist, hips, ass, and thighs. Bare skin, everywhere. Then inside, between her legs, I felt her patch of pubic hair, and even her moist lips.
"Felice, my god!"
She laughed. "So he's seen a lot more of me than of you."
"You've been naked this whole time?"
"It's not a big thing. Think about it. Your boy next door has already imagined you naked. Who knows what you're doing for him in his fantasies. Seeing you just laying out here on a blanket, that's practically PG-13."
"He'll tell his mom, and then she'll tell my mom!"
"This is your yard," she said. "It's his fault for looking, not yours." She paused. "Although it is tempting to walk over and ask him to join us."
"NO!" I yelled. "Felice, what's gotten into you?" I realized my finger was still touching her vagina and I yanked it away.
"Kelly, I think you're really stressing out for no reason. What I'm going to do is have you put your arms aside, and I'll put sunscreen on you, everywhere that's exposed. You just relax. And at the end, see if you're comfortable with this."
She was convincing enough that I laid my hands at my hips, baring my breasts. Her fingers and hands were gentle and sensual as she caressed me, as a lover would. And I mean I loved her as a good friend, but that day she was into much more sharing that we ever had done before. And it was OK, it was good. The goggles kept my world dark, so there was just the feel of Felice's touch, the smell of her, the sound of her voice.
"Don't move your arms," she said softly as she caressed my breasts, her thumbs on my nipples, definitely with erotic intent. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, although maybe just to get her to stop, to take a break, get back to our old comfortable friendship.
Now she was at my waist, applying more cream, when she had me lift my hips. I knew what was coming next, and was partly scared of it, and partly welcomed it. She slowly pulled down my bikini briefs and then I was laying there as naked as she was. I could feel the sun everywhere on my skin, just like at the guard chair. Her hands were on my bare legs, my calves, my hips and bottom, and when she was all done, when I was covered in sunscreen and nothing else, she sat or kneeled next to me, and leaned over. I could feel her shadow blocking the warm sun.
"Lick your lips," she said, "and then open your mouth." Then her nipple grazed my lips and I closed them, kissing it. When she put a finger inside my pussy, I started sucking harder, and that made her move faster, and we wound each other up. This was my first time ever fooling around with a woman. Her first time? I didn't know. I made her come, just licking her breasts, and then I came too. She lay down beside me and guided my face toward hers, and kissed me. Then we spent a long time just embracing and kissing. Afterward, spent, we both lay on our backs, one of her legs over mine, not caring who saw us.
After dinner, though, she went home, and I haven't talked to her since then.
After telling the story, I was a little shaken. First, I didn't even remember it had happened until Mike brought it up; and second, I really did have some other swimsuits I could have worn! I was wearing one that day! How did I not know that this morning? None of this would have happened! Why did I mess up things so badly?
It was nice to be inside the guard shack, out of the public eye, and I was relieved that Mike didn't seem as super furious as he was before. Still, it had been a really shitty day, and I was still sitting naked in front of this guy, and getting pretty tired. "Can you get me a ride home? Or at least back to my car?"
Mike nodded. "Yes, let's go."
I was reluctant to go back outside, but knew that each step would be closer to being home. Mike led me by the hand not to the buggy, but to the adjacent parking lot. Not where I was parked.
"Where are we going?"
"Just come along." He took me to his jeep, which was open-air, no doors, and then I was covering my quivering boobs with my hands as we rode onto the highway.
I tried to get him to tell me where he was taking me, but he wouldn't say. What I didn't expect is that he would take me to his own house.
It was a nice big place, in a gated community, very expensive for a senior lifeguard's salary. Did he marry into money? Mike had never talked about his personal life, other than he was married. And that might have been just to have us girls feel more at ease than if he was single.
It must have looked so ridiculous: Mike parked the Jeep in the driveway and marched me up the front walkway, naked in the view of all these million-dollar houses. Mike unlocked the door and ushered me in.
His wife was there.
She was fashionably thin, in elegant casual clothes, just like the rich women downtown; short brunette hair and green eyes. She was a pretty woman. And she stared at Mike and I with a look of shock and grief.
"This is Kelly, from the beach," he said amiably. "She'll be staying with us for a while."
She stared at me for a moment and then glared at Mike. "Why. Is she here. Like this."
"Kelly, why don't you go to the living room," Mike said. "I need to talk with Moira a sec."
It took much longer than that. I stood for a while in the living room, hearing muffled voices as they argued. I couldn't even decide whether to sit down; I was dead tired, but the furniture looked really expensive and I might get in trouble for sitting naked on it. But more time passed, and Mike still hadn't come downstairs; so I slumped down in the end of a large sofa and tried to think of what to do. I guess adrenaline and fear had kept me semi-alert so far, because once I was resting and things were quieter, I quickly fell asleep.
My slumber was full of dreams; but I only remembered the first and last.
In the first, my eyes were shut, but the warm air, gentle scents and sounds told me where I was: back at the beach, atop the lifeguard chair. But something was a little off. I opened my eyes.
To start, I was naked, head to toe. There was no sign of my clothes anywhere. Where had I left them? How long had I been up here like this?
It was strange, the feeling of having jumped into my own body, kind of joining myself in progress. For one, I was suddenly feeling very aroused. My legs were spread a little, and the middle finger of my right hand was deep inside me. I was really moist, and my nipples were hard. The lifeguard chair wasn't the one I normally used: it was just as tall, but without railings or arms. Nothing to hide behind.
I looked down, and a throng of people were watching.
What's worse, I knew every one of these people staring at me. Not one of them was a stranger. This seems incredible, but inside the dream it was undeniably true. There were classmates, friends, people from church, little kids from down the street, my mom, other lifeguards, all unable to tear their eyes away. And not only was I naked, I had been playing with myself!
But some people stopped looking directly up at me; their interest was below. I leaned forward to find out what had their attention.
Two naked men were climbing my chair. I didn't recognize them. Lean, erect, and feral, they looked like jungle animals going for the kill. Their penises were huge and erect. My shame and confusion turned quickly to fear. They were only seconds away from reaching me. One hand brushed my foot as I jumped up and perched on the seat. Then I leaped off the side, dropping about 12 feet to the sand.
I landed off-balance and stumbled forward, falling on my face. But I had to get up quickly. The men had jumped off too, like cats, and glared at me. I got up, spat out sand, and started running.
I dodged people walking and jumped over people sunbathing, afraid to look back. Even one hesitation, and they could catch up. I could sense them right behind me. And nobody was helping me, even though I was obviously in danger. They were all just watching the spectacle.
I could see the guard shack, about 200 feet away. If I got there first and could lock the door behind me, I'd be safe.
I jumped over one more blanket and my foot landed wrong, a hole where I didn't see or expect it. Maybe a kid's sand castle. But I tripped and fell, and before I could even get up one of the guys chasing me roughly flipped me on my back. Some people took my hands and forced my arms apart; then the same was done with my legs. One of the feral men lowered himself onto me and forced himself inside; I was still wet from when I was playing with myself. I was thinking, No, please, not this way!
Mercifully, that was where that dream ended.
The last dream was at my house, late at night, about 2 am. I woke up thirsty and decided to go to the kitchen for some ice water. I was wearing this nightshirt, sort of a long T-shirt that used to go down to my knees. After going thru the laundry countless times, it had shrunk to about mid-thigh, hugged my body more than it used to, and the fabric had gotten thin. That would be no big deal, since I was the only one up. The house was dark and quiet. I flipped on the hallway light and headed out.
When I got to the living room, I found out I wasn't the only one up. My brother and his friend Brad were watching some softcore thriller on cable, with the sound almost all the way down. No other lights were on.
(I don't have a brother in real life, but in the dream I did. He was about 22, older than me. Even in the dream, I don't think I found out his name.)
Brad saw me first, silhouetted in the light from hallway. Thinking back, it must have shone right through my nightshirt and outlined my body underneath. I wonder if I looked like some sort of erotic angel. He did take a second or two before saying "Hey, Kel."
My brother did some sort of wise-guy salute.
"Just getting some water," I said, still a little sleepy.
"Can you grab a couple beers?" my brother said. "There should be some left."
"OK." I walked into the kitchen, which was very dark, but I knew my way to the fridge: just straight across from the living room. In fact, you could see it from the couch.
I opened the door and was bathed in fluorescent light. I looked for the beer, but couldn't find it, and must have stood there a long time. Brad walked up beside me, put a hand on my shoulder. I wasn't dressed for mixed company at all. "You know, I think we finished them all," he said. "Sorry for making you look."
I turned to him. "It was my brother, not you." The door was still open and cool air was chilling the back of my legs. It seemed like my nightshirt was shorter than ever, like miniskirt length.
He looked me up and down, then put a hand on my hip, taking a bit of the material between thumb and finger. "Do you usually wear this to bed?"
I was kind of under a spell. "Yeah."
"No." This was already the most personal conversation I had ever had with Brad. He was an OK guy, kind of good looking; I just tended not to pay attention to my brother's friends.
"It's kinda see-thru," he said.
"Yeah." Suddenly I really enjoyed the attention I was getting. I put my arms around him and we started making out.
It was naughty enough, kissing my brother's friend, wearing only this flimsy nightshirt. But then he pulled it up above my waist. My butt started getting chilled except where he had his hands, and he only had one back there anyway. With the other he was probing between my legs, tickling my bush, and finally playing directly with my pussy. All the while we were still kissing.
He came up for air, and I raised my hands, whispering that he should just take the whole thing off. He was good with that. I finally kicked the fridge door shut and we were mostly in darkness. He fondled me all over and licked my breasts, just driving me crazy.
Then he stopped. "Let's go back to the couch."
I didn't want to stop. "My brother's there."
"He'll be cool," Brad said, and took me over.
My brother looked up at us, but then went back to watching the movie, as though seeing his sister naked was no big thing.
"Scoot over," Brad said, and sat me down between them. Then I leaned back on Brad's lap, resting my head on a pillow to the side, and plopped my legs on my brother's lap. Brad idly played with my breasts and pussy as we all watched TV.
And then I woke up.
It took a few seconds to figure out where I was. Back in Mike's living room, naked, laying on the couch. Mike was kneeling at my side, one hand on my bare breast. "You awake?" he said.
"Yeah." I looked out the picture window: dark already. "How long did I sleep?"
"A few hours. I got us some dinner. Hungry?"
"C'mon up." He took my hand and led me to the kitchen table. Two place settings were already out. Chinese food.
"Can I wear something?"
"Not yet," Mike said. We sat down and started to eat. "How do you feel? Dizzy? Drowsy?"
"I feel OK," I said. Clearheaded, despite how weird everything was. Sitting here naked at the table of a married man, having dinner with him?
"After dinner we'll talk about what happened today," he said. "And about what happens next."
"Mmm-hmmmgh," I said, keeping my mouth closed because I had just taken a bite.
After we were done, he moved his chair next to mine and turned me so we were face to face. "Can I go home now?" I said.
He had a pained look. "It's not that easy," he said.
"My mom must be worried sick by now!"
"She already knows where you are."
I was dumbfounded. This didn't make any sense.
He continued, "The story you told me about today, and what happened in your backyard Wednesday; they were mostly true, but you left out a few things. Or possibly forgot them."
"Left out what?"
"Let's go to Wednesday. You said Felice came over, you lay down on your stomach and she stripped everything off. Then when you turned over, she stripped your bikini off and you made out for a little while. Then you got dressed and went to dinner. Is that right?"
"Yeah, that's what I said."
He sighed. "The guy next door was looking through his window at you and didn't even notice when his mother entered the room. She saw you both, called your mom, and then your mom marched out and caught you both in the act."
"Oh my god!"
"She was so shocked she could hardly move. It was only until you and Felice started relaxing that she stormed out and started yelling at you. You and Felice were yelling back."
I could feel myself turning beet red. What he said was true. It was just so traumatic, I had blocked it out. Only Mike going over it was helping me remember.
"At that point, she kicked you out of the house. Told Felice never to set foot there again or she'd call the cops. She didn't even let you back inside; didn't even let you put clothes on. She just marched you both around the side yard to Felice's car and stood there until you drove off."
"What happened next?" I still couldn't remember.
"I'm guessing you stayed at Felice's house or another friend's. Then on Friday you borrowed some clothes and drove to the beach to start your shift."
Now I felt extremely tired, beaten down. But there was still hope. "It's been two days. Can I call my Mom, try to talk to her?"
"Sure." He reached back, put his phone on speakerphone, and dialed. My mom answered, and I said "Mom?" but Mike put a finger to his lips. "Mrs. Klein," he said. "Your daughter would like to talk to you about what happened Wednesday."
The hate that dripped from my mother's voice was like a stake through my heart. "You tell that slut that she is no longer my daughter. My daughter does not do those horrible things she did! She is no longer welcome in my house. Ever!" And then she hung up!
"It's real," Mike said.
Well, I was a wreck at that point. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I sat on Mike's lap, crying on his shoulder, arms draped around him. He was now the one familiar thing here, the one comfort zone. He was all I had. I cried for a long time.
Then I had an idea. "I'd like to go to Felice's. She can help me for a while. It's better than here."
Mike shook his head. "Felice has the same problems you do. I don't think it's good for you and her to be together until whatever you have is fixed."
"What do you mean, fixed?"
"There's some fundamental reason for what you did and what happened to you," he said. He stood me up. "Right now, you've got nothing to your name, not even any clothing. Think of it as a clean start."
"What do I do?"
"Right now, I think you should get ready for bed."
He showed me the guest room, where I would sleep. It had its own full bathroom, which he had stocked with every sort of health, beauty and hygiene product he could think of. There was a closet, but it was bare (like me): just a few empty hangers.
I stood there a few moments, thinking. Mike was casually looking me over. I realized something: ever since I had started as a lifeguard, I had subtly noticed him gazing at me like that. Sneak peeks, especially when others probably weren't looking. The yellow swimsuit hugged my curves really well, back when I was wearing it; and he had pored over those curves so many times. He must have been imagining what I'd look like with the suit off. It was so obvious now. And when that weird chain of events caused me to be naked, he decided, even against his better judgment, that he was not going to let me go.
Why did he scold me so much, then? Why did he call me a dizzy blonde every chance he got? Well, don't boys in school tease the most the girls they secretly have crushes on?
To be naked in front of him, and to be wanted so intensely, was making me aroused. I looked at Mike. He was in good shape, decently handsome, and could be charming when he wanted to. The main thing I didn't like was how he had treated me. But seeing things in a different light...
I took his hand, laid it on my bare breast. I looked up at him. Mike, I'm yours, I thought. At least for now.
He took me on the guest bed, without even turning down the comforter. I lay on my back, comfortably padded. He kissed my thighs, my breasts, and my neck. He stripped off his shirt; I ran my hands over his muscular chest. His pants came off next, and his boxers; his penis bobbed up, stiffening. The sight made me moist.
We didn't say anything to each other, but I was making more and more noise. Looking back, I figured his wife Moira was sure to have overheard us. He fondled my tingling breasts, and the head of his penis tapped against my inner thighs as he leaned forward. I took him in my hands and guided him in.
I gasped. He was big, and even though I was wet, I was still tight. He'd have to ease his way in, let me stretch a little. "Oh god, Mike," I said, softer at the end, remembering his wife was around; but as he moved all the way in, and we started thrusting, it felt so delicious that I no longer cared about keeping quiet. I looked up at him, seeing his features for the first time, his firm chin, his bright green eyes. If only I had known. That first day on the job, when he had looked me over, me standing there shyly, worrying that my nipples were poking out too much against the yellow swimsuit, that I was a little more exposed than I wanted to me -- if only I had known then. I would have peeled off my suit right there. He could have taken me right then, there in the office. I wouldn't have picked the suit back up. I would have never worn anything again.
The feeling of him inside me was winding me up and up. He had been imagining me in the position all this time... every day, while I wore nothing but that thin yellow swimsuit... I raked my nails along his back, luxuriating in the feeling of him filling me up, stoked by the naughtiness of where we were doing it, and where we might have done it earlier, if I had only known...
There was such heat building up, a core between my legs, and sensation overload everywhere he touched me. I was moving, but my body's motion was not under my control. It was like I was strapped in, along for the ride. His eyes gazed into mine, and I swear I saw them harden first, before his body began to stiffen as well, his movements more deliberate, forceful. Then he let go, he came, and I came too, and it was only later, after we had calmed down, that I realized I must have been moaning, even screaming, at the very end. The silence now, as he nuzzled the nape of my neck, cloaked us like a blanket.
I showered and climbed into bed. He went upstairs. I wondered if his wife had stayed up there, had heard the whole thing.
* * *
Now I know this story hasn't portrayed me in a complimentary light. I've tried my best to tell exactly what happened, and admit everything. But I'd like to take my own defense for a moment, against those of you who would call what I did "falling into my captor's arms", as the blondest thing of all.
I knew my life was a mess at that point. Everyone I knew would quickly find out about what happened. I just didn't want to go out there and face them right then.
Mike offered a fresh start. Like he said, I had nothing -- not even clothes on my back. He offered a place to stay and a chance to get back on my feet.
I stayed for about 11 months, and stayed willingly.
He eventually bought me some clothes, slowly accumulating a varied assortment that never seemed to add up to a complete outfit. I was almost never completely dressed, unless we left the house (and sometimes not even then). Much of the time I was nude. He bought a bikini bottom, which I sometimes wore around the house; ironically, when I swam in his backyard pool, I never wore anything. Maybe that image of me emerging from the surf, naked and dripping wet, was something he wanted to keep fresh.
There's much more I could tell about my year with Mike, but they're moving on to the next story, so I'll stop here. The next one is (I think) Jim's story, which happened only a day later and on another beach about 15 miles away. So that's all for now, but I'll be back.