We were holidaying at the Gold Coast during the Christmas break. The parents had a friend of a friend who'd let them have his time-share for a couple of weeks at a reduced rate and they'd snapped up the deal. Beautiful weather as long as you had air conditioning. I hate to think what the nights would be like sweltering in that moist heat without the air conditioner. You'd just melt into ooze on the bed. Fine during the day, though, with a light breeze coming in off the water.
The second day of our stay and I was traipsing off to spend some time at the beach. I was wearing this nice yellow top with a flirty green skirt with a bikini of a very nice high-cut teal bikini that suited me no end. I was willing to bet that once I shed the top and skirt I'd have boys hanging all around me. Still, that's a normal response when you're a gorgeous young blonde such as myself.
Ever since I grew a respectable chest I've had boys sniffing around. Men, too, truth be known. I'd seen some of the looks that the teachers give me when they think I don't notice. Not that it gets them anywhere. I'm not going to lightly give any male access to my body. Not for ages.
I've always been surprised by the number of girls who develop round heels as soon as they turn eighteen. A gentle nudge from a boyfriend and they're flat on their backs, willing to attend his every whim. Not for me, thank you very much, with me being nearly nineteen and still pure.
I've suggest to a couple of my friends that going to bed with their boyfriends isn't proving their love so much as showing their gullibility, and that they would be smarter to emulate my own more chaste behaviour. Do they listen? Not so you'd notice. They just tell me I don't understand. I do, really - they're tarts, not that I'd actually say that to them.
I expected that once I was on the beach and sunbathing I'd probably have to start beating the boys off with a stick. That's what happened yesterday, with more boys trying to flirt with me than anyone else. Even the girls who went topless couldn't compete, probably because their busts look rather anaemic compared to fine. I have a really nice rack, and all natural, no matter what some jealous people might think.
There's a semi-major road running along the coast between the residences and the beach. On the seaward side of the road there's a strip of parkland with an adjacent strip of native vegetation before you reach the beach and the water. The native vegetation is mainly saltbush of various types, shrubbery and small trees rising up to ten or fifteen feet. That shrubbery acts as a sound barrier, meaning that on the beach you tend to be cut off from the rest of the world and it's very peaceful.
Most of the vegetation is fenced off, although there are access paths if you really want to stroll into it for some reason. Going in there isn't forbidden, just discouraged, as they're doing some conservation work. Paths from the parkland grass to the beach proper are scattered at fairly regular intervals. I was quite surprised when I'd crossed that strip the day before to find that it was nearly a hundred yards deep, a lot wider than I'd expected.
I was about halfway down the path to the beach when I met the guy that I'd nicknamed the Golden Boy coming the other way. I'd seen him yesterday and he'd introduced himself as Bryce, I think he said, but I'd taken one look and thought 'Golden Boy'. He was tanned a nice gold colour. I should get a tan like that. Never happen. On top of that he had golden hair. A variation of auburn hair, I guess, but the light bleaching that the sun gave it and the contrast to his tan made it seem golden. To top it off he'd been wearing short of a dark yellow, completing the golden look.
I guess I remembered him for two reasons. The first was that colouring and the second was that he hadn't hung around me all the time. He'd said hullo and I'd said hullo and effectively ignored him and he'd left, which was a bit unusual. Normally if I ignore a boy they try harder to attract my attention. (If I don't ignore them they start strutting and flexing their biceps and triceps and any other sort of ceps they might have.)
"Kylie," he said, nodding to me with a smile as he approached.
I took a guess and said, "Bryce?" without the smile, and he nodded, still smiling.
Seeing he was approaching quite rapidly I moved to the side to let him pass only to find that he moved to the same side. I took a step in towards the other side only to see him preparing to do the same thing. I just wasn't going to get into the game of dodge me with him and simply stopped in my tracks, a sweep of my hand inviting him to pass.
He didn't pass, stopping dead in front of me.
"Off to get in a bit more sunbaking, I see," he said. "As a matter of curiosity, same bikini as yesterday?"
To my surprise he just reached out and spread my top open. It was just a loose blouse and I hadn't done up the buttons because I was intending to shed it as soon as I hit the beach. After all, I did have my bikini on under it so I was still modestly attired. For all that he had no right to take a sneak peek. Not that there was much sneak in his peek.
"Blue," he said sounding pleased. "Much better than the red one you had on yesterday."
"It's teal, not blue," I pointed out, "and the one I wore yesterday was crimson, not red." I'd realised years ago that men are essentially colour blind. "I'll thank you not to be so free with my clothes," I added, tugging my blouse out of his grip.
"Teal, blue, same difference as far as I can see," he told me, "and you'll be taking the top off as soon as you hit the beach so why shouldn't I have the privilege of an early showing?"
I rolled my eyes at his arrogance and sighed.
"For a start, because it's rude to start taking off a girl's clothes," I pointed out.
"Who was taking anything off?" he asked. "Not me. I just parted the two sides to improve my view. Like this."
The rotten man reached over and parted my blouse again. I was glaring at him and reaching for my blouse again when the top of my bikini fell down. Bryce had tugged open the bow at the back of my neck, and I was now presenting my breasts to him in fine style.
I made an appalled noise of some sort, hands darting up to cover my breasts, while his hands released my blouse and caught my wrists before I could cover up. He quite effortlessly held my arms away from my body.
"I'm going with white and pink," he said. "What colours would you use to describe them?"
"How dare you?" I exclaimed, incredulous. I couldn't believe he was doing this. "Let me go. Now!"
"All in good time," he said. "First, do you agree with white and pink? I don't mind holding your arms out so you can get a good look and decide."
The arrogant swine probably would, too.
"Cream and strawberry pink," I said through gritted teeth. "Now let me go."
Instead of letting me go he pushed my hands behind my back, gripping both my wrists with one hand. This also had the effect of pushing me closer to him, a situation of which he took full advantage. He bent his head and the next thing I knew he was tasting my breasts, finishing up by gently sucking on one nipple. I squawked and protested and after a minute or two that seemed to last for an awful long time he lifted his head again.
"Don't know about strawberries and cream," he said, "but they certainly taste sweet."
