Beach Cumming
Danica Rivers
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Danica Rivers
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Amy:
I know this sounds cliché. I've been keeping it to myself for a very long time because I don't think anyone would believe me. See, everyone knows about Spring flings and Summer hook ups. There's nothing new or novel about it and it's almost become a rite of passage – if you haven't had at least one drunken spring break fuck you're missing out. But this was so much more than a drunken hook up. Sandy introduced me to passion like I've never known before... or since.
I didn't think it would be exciting. I was 19 and home from my freshman year of college. My parents had decided that this year we'd visit a new beach in South Carolina – semi-private and only a few minutes' drive from the house of one of my mother's college friends, Anne. She had invited us down for two glorious weeks of sun, white sand and exploring a couple of famous landmarks. I had some interest in the history but expected that the beach would bore me. Even as we pulled into Anne's driveway and my younger brother cupped his hands to his ears to listen for the crashing of the nearby ocean, I was unimpressed.
It was humid; sticky in the worst kind of way – the way that makes sweat bead between your shoulder blades and stick your shirt to your skin as soon as you step into it. The relentless July sun was held at bay by a few lazy fleece clouds which drifted above the palmettos. I was glad to step into Anne's air-conditioned home and find a tray in her modern, white living room with fresh, cold meats and fruit, but even more glad when she showed us the two guest rooms where we would be staying, with a shared bathroom decorated in the typical beach theme. A glass block wall separated the shower stall from the rest of the bathroom, screening it from the view of the doors leading to our bedrooms – something I was thrilled by, since I expected I wouldn't get much "alone time" anywhere else in the house. I didn't mind sharing a room with my brother; although I'd long since been moved to my own room at home, it was only for a week. Still, I was used to masturbating whenever the urge took me, and that just wouldn't be possible here. At least I had the shower.
After lunch we left to explore the beach while my mother caught up with Anne and traded stories. My brother was quick to spot a couple of girls his age a little way down the beach and sauntered over to chat them up while I dug my toes into the warm white sand, staring down the sea as though it would tell me what to do. I wasn't that comfortable on the beach. My swimsuit wasn't eye-catching and I didn't care about fashion; my tan was more from bicycling around town than from sitting at the pool. I didn't see the point to it all... and then she walked by.
I was transfixed, rooted in the sand, dizzy with the motion of the waves and her hips. Oh, I wanted to touch those round hips, kiss the delicious sliver of pale skin that showed between her boy-short swimsuit bottom and tank top, stay on the beach forever watching her move. She made eye contact, murmured a quick 'hi' and flicked strawberry-blond ringlets out of her eyes as she strolled away. I don't think I even returned her greeting, but my eyes followed her down the beach. When she was gone I stood senseless until the sun beating down on my bare shoulders was too much. I was sick with longing and splashed quickly into the surf, soaking myself and hiding the flushed cheeks that spoke of more than the day's heat.
By the time we got back to the house I desperately needed a shower. Anne said she'd planned a late supper for us, so I had plenty of time and excused myself quickly, claiming a desire to get the sea water out of my hair. In the safety of the shower I unhooked my bikini top with trembling hands and tried to wash the memory of her down the drain with the sand. I didn't even know her name. Worse, there was no one I could tell. My parents still thought I had a boyfriend back at school and although my friends sometimes poked fun at my virginity, I didn't think anyone knew the full truth. I hadn't even been sure myself, until that hot summer day.
The water was warm but it felt cool against the burning in my cheeks as I remembered her smile and shuddered with longing. As I mechanically went about lathering my body with soap my thoughts wandered over hers. She had been shorter than me, and I imagined bending close to her, her scent (in my mind, it was the scent of the sweet saltwater taffy sold by the beach) heady and delicious. Her lips, soft and full, meeting mine. I dropped the shower puff and sat back against the shower wall, letting the water run while my fingers went straight for my clit. It didn't take long, but I was just standing up to rinse the rest of the soap away when my mother knocked. I jumped guiltily and hurried out of the shower, praying no one noticed my not-so-innocent blush.