I've been going steady with Ian for several months now. We sort of hooked up just before my nineteenth birthday and have been going out together ever since. When I say going out with him I mean just that. It's not an euphemism for sleeping with him, although I do know that's on his agenda.
He's male. How could it not be on his agenda? And, to be honest, it's been my ambivalence that has stopped us going to bed. I like Ian, but. .
Ask me to put a finger on the cause of the 'but' and I wouldn't be able to answer, but that doesn't mean it's not there. Until I resolve my feelings, and that 'but', I'm keeping my legs crossed, so to speak.
On this particular day we'd gone to the beach. It was a lovely sunny day, far too good to waste at home. After we arrived at the beach we ran into several other friends of ours; not surprising on a day like this.
So we stuffed around, swimming, sunbathing, playing with a stupid ball, more swimming and more sunbathing. When Ian suggested we go for a walk for a little private time I was quite willing. I knew damn well that what Ian wanted was to get me to a slightly more secluded area, hoping he could seduce me. A man probably assumes that, when all that the woman is wearing is a brief bikini, if he has a little privacy then he also has a better chance of arranging for her not to be wearing that brief bikini.
As far as I was concerned, Ian was on a loser. I had no intention of letting him seduce me in the dunes, but it could be a bit of fun letting him make the effort. I might even let him take off my top. Might, and that would be as far as it went.
We faded into the dunes and Ian just happened to know of a nice convenient spot where we could sit and sunbathe a little more privately. Like with your top off, hint, hint. I agreed to sunbathe, but the top stayed on. He'd have to be more persuasive than that.
So we sat and sunbathed, and we kissed a little. Ian's hands showed a distressing tendency to wander. Isn't in strange how a perfectly normal looking man can seem to have more arms than an octopus when he's alone with a woman.
There we were, sitting, kissing, fending off groping hands with a giggle, light-heartedly enjoying ourselves. Eventually I managed to miss noticing Ian's hand at the back of my neck, and I gave an embarrassed squeal when he managed to untie the bow and my top drifted down, revealing my breasts.
I have quite nice breasts. I don't sunbathe topless so they're quite pale, a sort of creamy white with pink nipples. Right then my nipples were rather prominent, having appreciated the attention that Ian had been giving them.
I naturally assumed that Ian would want to kiss my breasts now that he had them properly in sight, and I guess I probably would have allowed this, protesting all the time, of course.
Before Ian could start making more serious passes we were interrupted. Some people have no couth. It must have been obvious to even the densest person that Ian and I were having a bit of private time, but my Bete Noire came waltzing up, bold as you please, with Stella, of all people in tow. I'd have thought that Brian had better taste than to go around with Stella.
"Afternoon, Ian, Mich," said Brian in a loud voice. My name is Michelle. I hate being called Mich. That, I suppose, is why Brian does it.
I just gave Brian a nasty look, and I'd be damned if I'd cover my breasts just because he was here. There were a number of women on the beach sunbathing topless, so who cared what he thought.
Ian was polite enough to acknowledge Brian's greeting, but his eyes were all over Stella. I thought my bikini was reasonably brief but, good god, Stella's was so brief it almost didn't exist, and Ian's eyes were almost popping out of his head. That 'but' was suddenly in the front of my mind.
"Sunbathing topless, Mich," drawled Brian. "Daring of you, isn't it?"
I ignored him. No way was I defending myself to Brian, of all people. With someone else I might have laughed or blushed, but where Brian was concerned I was Miss Stoney-Face.
Not that it worried him at all. He just nudged Stella.
"Hey, Stella, how about you taking of your top and show Ian a real pair of breasts."
And that silly bitch just giggled, reached behind her and just like that her top was off. Like I said, I have nice breasts, but size wise they were not in Stella's class. A cow's udders aren't in Stella's class. Ian, of course was staring at them so hard I thought his eyes would pop.
Stella lifted her breasts and bounced then on her hands and Ian just about melted. I was surprised to see that Brian wasn't looking at them and drooling.
"Not bad, are they, Ian," came Brian's hateful drawl. "Why don't you weigh them in your hands and see how they feel."
Ian, damn him, did so. I couldn't believe it. Here am I, supposed to be his girlfriend, and he's pawing Stella's boobs right in front of me.
"Fun, aren't they," said Brian. "Look, Stella, you can see how much he appreciates them."
