Jimmy and Min

This year, Jimmy and I didn't get to share our birthdays together until June.

We were born exactly a year apart – he's just turned 19, me 18 – but since we were kids, we'd always been together on the date, either because our parents threw my cousin and me joint parties or, later on, because it was important to us and we'd made a point of meeting up.

This year, though, I'd been training for a local marathon, there was a hole in the sidewalk and, well, I spent May 10 learning to use crutches.

Which brings us to June. I'd gotten in the previous afternoon, we'd had a pretty decent dinner out, and I'd crashed at his off-campus apartment rather than driving home. Actually, since I had no-place I really had to be for a couple of day, I was going to stay a couple of nights. Usually we argued over who would take the couch (he's a gentleman at heart, and I didn't like to put him out of his bed ), but my leg was still stiff and a night on his couch would probably out me back on crutches.

Late afternoon, we were going to a beach party together. Lake-beach, specifically. It had been organized by his former girlfriend Sara, with who he'd remained on decent terms.

He drove me to the edge of the beach and let me out, then went off to park his car. The less walking I did the better, and walking on the sand wouldn't have been great for my leg anyway.

I got to the stretch of beach where the party was being held, and almost immediately Sara was in front of me telling me, dismissively, "This is a private beach, sweetie."

It wasn't: but it had traditionally been staked out by the town's rich kids, of whom Sara was queen.

She didn't recognize me, which wasn't a surprise: the only other time we'd met was when I dropped by Jimmy's apartment back in February, dressed like an Eskimo. She'd answered the door wearing some cross between a nightgown and lingerie. It was thin enough that I could see the nipples on the new breasts her father had bought her for her 18th birthday (Jimmy had mentioned it to me).

Who answers the door wearing something like that? I thought at the time.

I hope she isn't waiting for Jimmy to come home to play out some "flash the pizza delivery boy" game and eww, how can I unthink that?

I'd told her who I was and she'd said "Jimmy's working today, sweetie," then turned her back to me so I could see myself out.

Which is why, now in June, I recognized her so quickly.

Also because her bikini top didn't cover all of her newly-bought breasts.

"I'm here with Jimmy Wright," I told her, and she stepped aside to let me by. As if she were the gatekeeper. A surly gatekeeper, it seemed to me.

Jimmy hit the beach a few minutes later. I saw he'd left his shirt in the car, so I peeled off my own t-shirt (the difference being I was wearing a bikini top – twice as much bikini top as Sara, I thought with a grin, for half as much breast).

"Come on," Jimmy said, "let's say hi to Sara."

I was tempted to say we'd already met – twice, in fact – and she'd been condescending the first time and downright rude the second, but I was a guest here. And Sara was apparently still Jimmy's friend.

We caught up to her. "Hey Sara!" Jimmy said. "How's things?"

She turned to face us, and I could swear she was giving me the once-over and didn't approve. She seemed to linger for just a moment on my breasts.

"This is Min," Jimmy said, and without letting him finish the thought, Sara said, with the fakest of friendly smiles, "I see it didn't take you long to find a new little girlfriend."

"No, She's--" Jimmy began, and I interrupted with "that's right," giving Sara

my

best fake friendly smile.

"Have fun," Sara said, turning abruptly and walking off.

"Why did you say that?" Jimmy asked me.

Poor Jimmy, always seeing the best in others. It was clear to me, but he had no clue, that Sara hated me the moment she decided I was Jimmy's new girlfriend. I saw no reason to tell her otherwise, because... well, she was a bitch, she'd cheated on Jimmy, she obviously wanted him back, and to be honest, I knew it would piss her off.

But I couldn't say any of that, so I went with a smile, a cute shrug and "dunno." He shook his head, wrote it off as his little cousin doing something goofy again, and asked me whether I wanted a beer.

(when your family's rich enough to be able to claim part of a public beach as your private beach, you can serve beer to your underage friends without much fear)

The afternoon was hot and the beer was cold, and I met a lot of Jimmy's friends. I already knew Gail, his BFFF (Best Female Friend Forever), so of course she already knew I was his cousin, and Jimmy told her we'd lied to Sara. Gail gave me a brief nod: she understood why I'd let Sara believe I was Jimmy's girlfriend.

I always did like that girl. My hope was that she and Jimmy would discover they were in a John Hughes movie and fall romantically in love, but that wasn't going to happen.

Today, Jimmy made an attentive yet chaste boyfriend. Probably because he was so accustomed to spending time with Gail, now that I thought about it.

After the requisite burgers and hot dogs, Jimmy and I – as well as most of the party-goers – stripped down to swimsuits for siesta and a bit of tanning. When I was lying on my front, I couldn't help noticing that I got my share of furtive glances.

Hey, I'm an athlete: my legs were still toned even though I hadn't been able to run for the past month, and I'm going to be honest here: I do have a really great ass.

I think even Jimmy took a peek – which seemed a bit icky at first but hey... he's a guy, my barely-covered really great ass was right next to him, and he had been playing the part of my boyfriend all afternoon.

I think I was just about asleep when the music started. Loudly.

Jimmy asked me whether I could dance at all without hurting myself, and I surprised him by telling him I was pretty sure I could – as long as I kept my lower legs fairly still and confined most of my movement to my hips and upper body. I guess if I'd had a grass skirt, I could have done a mean hula.

I had a few dances with Jimmy, the only time we'd ever danced together other than at an aunt's wedding a few years ago. Then a couple of his friends asked me to dance (after first asking his permission).

Some of the couples were dancing a bit suggestively by this point, probably partly because they were bigger drinkers than Jimmy and me.

A "Twist" song came on, which was perfect for me! Gail asked me to dance, since it was good music for two girls to dance to, and before it was over there were several more girl-girl dance couples. Some of the girls, especially the ones without boyfriends present (as far as I could tell) were moving pretty sexually. Both the boys and some of the rest of the girls were cheering them on.

When the song was over, Sara went over to her laptop and hit a few keys, and another energetic song came on. I was going to sit this one out, but Sara intercepted me on my way to here Jimmy was sitting. "Let's dance, little girl," she said.

So I went back out to the "dance floor." Sara made a point of facing Jimmy, and was clearly dancing to arouse him. To be fair, she wasn't alone in putting on a show: one girl, who'd been introduced to me as Karen, had somehow worked her right breast out of her bikini top, and didn't seem to care.

Sara noticed and glared at her.

And then she reached behind herself and untied her top, releasing her large and unnaturally firm breasts. She just about thrust them in my face as we danced. Was she trying to intimidate me with her breasts? I guess so.

But I'm first and foremost an athlete, and you don't challenge an athlete without being taken down. Without thinking about where I was or whom I was with, I pulled my bikini top over my head and tossed it in Jimmy's general direction.

And I used all my athletic grace, small boobs and all, to give Sara the most sensual performance I could imagine. I wanted her face to flush, her pussy to dampen, just to prove I could do it.

And by God, I think I did, because she stopped shaking her things at me.

I never did have a chance to feel self-conscious, because by the end of the song about half the girls dancing were topless. I walked back to Jimmy feeling better about myself than I had since my injury. Jimmy was less than welcoming, though. "You want to put this back on?" he said, offering me my bikini top without looking directly at me.

"It's okay," I said. "Feels weird, but I kind of like it.

"You want to put this back on?" he repeated.

I gestured toward the rest of the party. "Jimmy, at this point it would look weird if I covered up. Look, I know this is a bit awkward, but really it's not such a big deal." I settled in next to him on his beach blanket. "But maybe I should put on my own sunscreen, okay?" About twenty feet from us, on another blanket, a boy was slowly massaging cream onto his girlfriend, taking a long time on her bare breasts.

Yes, I was envious: not that I wanted my cousin to touch me like that, but my experience with hands on my breasts was a couple of times when a date slipped his hand inside my shirt to cop a feel.

It felt nice to be out here sunning myself, wearing nothing but my bikini bottoms, not having to feel self-conscious since most of the other girls were similarly dressed. I did get, though, that this had to be a bit uncomfortable for Jimmy: everybody else here thought I was his girlfriend, but he knew we were cousins and he couldn't react the way he would with any other girl.

At least his BFFF Gail still had her top on.

After a few minutes, Jimmy seemed more relaxed about his cousin being topless. I was lying with my head on his chest, his arm around my ribcage. Some other couples were lying the same way, but Jimmy was making sure he didn't brush his arm against the bottoms of my breasts, whereas most of the other guys were touching their girls' breasts any time they thought they could get away with it.

Most girls didn't want to be seen getting groped in public, after all – but if their guy "accidentally" touched their breast, their

naked

breast no less, well, nothing embarrassing about that, is there?

I wouldn't have minded an accident or two myself, I have to admit.

"Let's dance again." I said suddenly.

"Nah, I'm comfortable," he said.

That's possible. But he also might have meant that his cock was already conspicuously hard, like most of the guys here, and he didn't want to get up and draw attention to it, and probably make it worse by dancing with his almost-naked cousin.

"Then I will," I said, getting up. He scrambled to his feet. Obviously he didn't want me dancing with any of his friends, my bare chest rubbing against theirs.

Neither did I, honestly. It got Jimmy on his feet, though.

But then I saw Gail sitting on her on blanket sipping a can of beer. I called out to her as I walked to the dance area. "Sure," she replied, getting up. Jimmy sat back down, satisfied that none of his friends would have the opportunity to get fresh with his cousin (though now that I thought about it, would any of his friends even try to take liberties with a girl they thought was Jimmy's girlfriend?)

Jimmy and Gail had been friends for so many years, I almost thought of her as a cousin as well. Today wasn't the first time we'd danced together. "So," she said as the music started up again, "on a scale of 1 to 10, how weird is this?" Of course I knew she meant my being topless and pretending to be Jimmy's girlfriend.

"For me? An 8 maybe? For Jimmy, an 11, at least."

She laughed. "Yeah. What was going through your mind?"

"God only knows? But as far as this goes," I said, gesturing at my bare chest, "I might have ended up like this anyway."

"Maybe. But The Bitch started the whole thing by trying to show you up, didn't she?"

"And come to think of it," I pointed out, "that's what made her beach party memorable. So maybe this was her cunning plan all along."

"Well in any case, if you hadn't lied about being his girlfriend, this all wouldn't have been so awkward. He'd still have been uncomfortable with you here topless, but at least he wouldn't have had to cuddle with you. While trying to hide that boner from you."

I giggled. "I'm a terrible cousin," I said. "Truly I am."

"And you know what?" Gail said. "I'm a terrible friend." She reached behind her back, unsnapped her bikini top, and dropped it onto the ground.

I have to be honest, she had great breasts. And while Jimmy couldn't have been comfortable about his best friend's breasts being exposed to him (and everybody else), a quick glance over told me he wasn't averting his eyes, either.

Actually, we were getting a lot of attention: not too many people were dancing right now and while a lot of girls were topless, I don't think a lot of them had danced together.

When Sara and I had danced, it felt more like combat. Now with Gail, we seemed to have gotten the same idea when we saw people watching us: while never touching one another at all, never being even remotely sexual, we danced sensually, both for our own enjoyment and to arouse the audience.

I won't lie: I was more than a little turned on myself, and wished I'd had a genuine boyfriend there. Though maybe not, since if he'd wanted to fuck me right there on the beach, I wasn't sure I could have said no, and that would have been bad for so many reasons.

Our dance was certainly having an effect on everybody else. One couple I noticed, presumably encouraged by the fact that all eyes were on us and not them, the guy was caressing his girl's naked breasts, occasionally pinching her nipples. I can't say for certain, but at one point I think she came.

Another girl had a hand in her boyfriend's trunks.

I could see Sara. She was seething, wishing she could get up and upstage us, knowing she couldn't.

I couldn't see Jimmy's face. I could see he was watching us, though, and I have to assume he was wishing we were any other two girls in the universe.