It's mid-afternoon on a clear Saturday in August at San Diego's clothing optional Black's Beach. The teenage girl kneeling in the sand in front of Matt Sinclair is completely naked. She holds a shock of curly brown hair back with one hand and thrusts her breasts forward. Her green eyes follow the movement of the paintbrush in Matt's hand, and then at Matt himself focused on his work.
In Matt's experience teenage girls show up in groups of two or three, if they show up at all, and are nervous and twitchy. This girl is different. She is alone, quiet, and curious. Her small breasts are tipped with hard red nipples that look like strawberries. Her pubic hair is shaved except for a light brown oval that sits like an island an inch above her pussy. A silver loop hangs from her pierced navel. Matt faces her Indian style and applies the paint slowly around her nipple. He sees the tip stiffen in response to the pressure of the soft bristles of the brush head. She breathes in quickly and tries to stifle the sound, but he hears it all the same. Within a few minutes, a yellow and red starburst spirals out from the girl's left breast, trailing a vapor trail across her stomach.
Five years ago, Matt graduated with a degree from Art Center in L.A. and had an exhibit at the Temporary Contemporary. L.A. Magazine thought enough of him to include him in a survey of emerging local artists. But Matt's plans have changed since then. In spite of his artistic talent, sex is what really interests Matt. He has wavy black hair, the sculpted muscles of a bodybuilder and an all-over tan. Body painting is a way to use his talent in pursuit of his favorite pass-time. He likes naked women, painting designs on their hot, sun-soaked flesh, and showing off his big cock to them. Depending on who he's painting, especially the good-looking women, he makes sure to give them plenty of opportunities to check out his body up close. Women play it cool at first. They pretend not to notice or care. But eventually they betray their curiosity by stealing looks when they think he's not looking. He plays along with the game, but those looks are what he's waiting for. Sooner or later their eyes stray down for a fleeting look at his crotch. And who can blame them? He's ten inches long when he's hard, and it's all right there in plain view.
The girl's skin is perfectly smooth and unblemished. Matt works the paint down her stomach, feathering it for a few seconds. Then he repositions so he is kneeling in front of her, fully exposed. The girl makes no attempt to hide her curiosity, allowing her gaze to linger for a long time while he works.
"You have a big cock," she says at last, without a trace of embarrassment or hesitation.
The boldness of her comment surprises him; he is caught off guard and can't think of anything to say. He can feel himself harden.
When he doesn't answer right away, she continues. "I guess everybody tells you that."
"No, actually they don't," he says.
"Well, you do," she says, looking him in the eye to underscore her point. "Bigger than any other guys I've seen."
"I didn't expect you to be an expert on that kind of thing," he says after a pause.
"Why not?" she says with a defensive note in her voice.
"Because you seem a little young."
"I just turned eighteen," she says.
"That's young," he says.
"Not really."
"Trust me. It's pretty young."
He paints the design over her navel and works it around her side.
"How old are you?" she says, with a challenge in her voice.
"Old. Twenty-seven."
"It's not that old." She looks at him with a self-satisfied expression on her face. "Are you married?"
"No."
"Do you have a girlfriend?" she says.
"No."
She thinks about this a second while she watches him brush the paint on her stomach. "You're not gay, are you?"
"Do I look gay?"
"Half the guys down here are gay."
"Turn around," he says. I'll paint your back.
She turns around. "Does that mean you're straight?"
"Good guess," he says.
"Cool." She seems pleased at this. "It's such a drag when you find out a hot looking guy is gay. It seems like such a waste. I think to myself, there's one guy I'll never get."
"It that the way it works?"
"That's what I think. There's this really cute guy I know, and it's kind of depressing to think that I'm competing with him for the same thing."
"How do you know he's gay?"
"'Cause he talks about guys. He told a girlfriend of mine that he hangs out in Hillcrest on the weekends and tries to get picked up. I'd say that's pretty gay."
Matt works quietly for several minutes, continuing the design around and down the girl's back, tracing the outline of the vapor trail that ends just above the crack in her ass. She shivers as the brush crosses over her spine. "That tickles," she says.
"You have a great back," he says.
She turns around and smiles at his compliment. "Thanks."
He works for several minutes more, focusing his attention on her narrow waist and tight ass. She sighs as he works the brush down her lower back. When he is done she stands up, turns, and pivots. The design on her body looks just as he imagined it – like star exploding. Several feet away, a group of naked men watch her with appreciative stares. She smiles at the attention she receives. Matt hands her a mirror.
