Kelly

VS Ch. 04
by gossog©


My name is Kelly, and I used to be a lifeguard. This is the story of the day I 
lost that job.

I guess it was natural that I became one in the first place. I was a good 
swimmer, and I looked the part: blonde hair, nice boobs, long legs, filling out 
my uniform (yellow one-piece swimsuit) pretty nicely. My friends teased me 
sometimes, calling me "Baywatch", but it was all good-natured. Whenever I saw 
myself in the suit I had to admit they had a point.

The one drawback was that some people (like my boss, Mike) assumed that a pretty blonde girl couldn't possibly have any brains. As if everyone had a limited 
amount of good qualities, and shining in one area meant you had to skimp in 
another. Mike never seemed to give me a break. We all make little mistakes from 
time to time, and usually we fix them right away. But my boss never gave me the 
benefit of the doubt.

He didn't seem to treat the other girls so harshly, and they all liked him, said 
he was cute. I agreed that on the surface that he had good looks: bright eyes, 
strong chin, muscular, flat abs and tight butt... yet the way he was on the 
inside colored that impression for me. He wasn't handsome in my eyes.

All in all, everything else about the job was cool, so Mike I learned to put up with.

I was 20 years old, and going to community college. When classes were out, it 
was a pretty good life: work in the morning, then get cleaned up and go 
shopping, or see some friends, and think about where to go out that night. My 
beach was behind a reef so the surf was very gentle, and the surfers and 
risk-takers went elsewhere. In two summers I had never had to rescue anyone.

That Friday morning I woke up late, with just enough time to get my swimsuit and 
drive to the beach. My yellow one-piece, which I had hand-washed last night, 
should have been hanging over the shower curtain to drip dry. But it wasn't 
there. I was frantically looking for it when my little sister said she might have accidentally put it in the dryer. "It's not supposed to go in there!" I yelled.

I pulled stuff out into a basket, looking for my suit. Like I was afraid of, it 
had shrunk. A lot. I held it up in front of me: even hanging down flat, it was 
too small now. No way would it cover me in 3-D. I yelled some not-so-nice things 
at my sister, and Mom yelled at me. The day was starting out great.

Now I was in a bind. I had no other swimsuit. No store would be open at 9 am. I 
knew I couldn't skip that day, because we were short-staffed. No one to take my 
place. I had to show up to work; what was I going to wear?

It was getting late, and I had no ideas, so I just kept on what I wore to bed: 
an aqua blue tank top with a ribbed pattern, and gray fleece shorts. This was an 
ugly outfit, but I figured it should be a slow day and I probably wouldn't even 
have to leave my chair until Bernice came in to relieve me. I could count on her 
not to rat me out to Mike for not having proper attire. And the lifeguard chair 
was so big and so high, that from the beach people could barely see anything 
except my arms and head. So even with my shorts and tank, I would probably be 
OK.

I drove really fast, but still got to the beach five minutes late, bracing 
myself for trouble. However, there was only one blanket set up: a mom and her 
little boy, playing in the sand. If I was lucky, no one would ever know I wasn't 
at my post at exactly 9:00. I had never been late up to that point. Still, in 
Mike's eyes, I would become the ditzy blonde who was always late and lost her 
swimsuit... unless he never found out. I took off my shoes and walked across the 
sand to my chair.

It's a funny thing about the chairs we had: the guard had a great view of the 
water and a so-so view of the beach. But unless you were in the water, people on 
the beach really couldn't see much of me; the angle was wrong. With no one in 
the water, it was like I had the beach to myself. After the hectic scene at 
home, and the race to get here, I could finally relax.

The sun was behind me, and already pretty warm on my skin. I took out the 
sunblock and started doing my arms and face. With our one-piece suits, it was 
pretty easy to reach everywhere that wasn't already covered, which was essential 
when we were sitting in the sun for hours at a time. Because I was really strict 
with myself about protecting my skin, I would usually go through summer without 
much of a tan. Sort of ironic given my job.

I took a few deep breaths to really calm down; something my friend Felice had 
taught me. Now I was feeling pretty relaxed and all the stress was gone. It was 
a close call, but things were going to be OK. Just another routine day. And that 
was good.

The tank top and shorts covered part of the same area as the one-piece had, and 
in a few minutes I was done with the sunblock. No more people had shown up at 
the beach as far as I could tell, and still no one was in the water. Now there 
was little to do except wait and watch. There was an ocean liner a few miles 
off, and a stretch of low clouds at the horizon. The air stirred a little; 
barely a breeze. It was very calm.

The warm sun and sound of the surf were making me a little sleepy. I wasn't 
worried; people would soon start to trickle in and venture into the water. Just 
watching people have fun tended to keep my interest, and if trouble developed I 
would notice right away.

One drawback with my improvised wardrobe: the tanktop and shorts heated up in 
the sun a lot more than my reflective yellow swimsuit did. Usually it was only 
the hottest days of summer that we would need to drink extra fluids, or spritz 
water on ourselves to cool down. Today wouldn't have been one of those days. But 
the tank top in particular was getting uncomfortably hot.

Not that I could do anything about it; I was stuck here until eleven, when 
Bernice would spot me. I would take the buggy to the guard office and hopefully 
snag a spare swimsuit. But right now, I was stuck with my top.

Or was I?

I gave this a lot of thought. What if I took the top off? I wasn't wearing a 
bra. Not only was going topless on the beach not allowed, but I had never bared 
my breasts outside before anyway. The thought was a little scary.

On the other hand, basically nobody was here. In my guard chair I had extra 
privacy anyway. I would see anyone approaching before they could see me. If that 
was all true, then I should be able to take off the top for a little while, and 
I'd be able to put it back on before anyone could see me. Right?

This struck me as not only scary, but kind of naughty; but instead of dissuading 
me, that feeling helped convince me to try it. The more I considered it, the 
more it seemed like some innocent fun. Maybe after the summer I would tell 
Bernice what I had done that Friday morning. I sat up and looked around -- the 
coast (ha ha) was still clear -- and then leaned back, scrunching down as much 
as I could, and pulled my top about halfway upward.

An inch or so of the bottoms curves of my breasts were out. Now's not the time 
to chicken out, I thought. I lifted the top a little higher, up away from my 
chest now, following the swells of my breasts. I stopped just below my nipples, 
thinking, OK, this would be the time to turn back if I wanted to. But I realized 
that without a bra, my nipples had been poking against the thin cloth anyway. 
And what's the difference if no one can see me anyway? I took a deep breath and 
took the top completely off.

Wow. Instead of the hot fabric, which was making me perspire, there was just the 
pleasantly warm sun and air on my bare skin. It felt so good! The heat reminded 
me that I'd better put sunblock on the newly exposed areas, or I'd have one 
painful, hard to explain sunburn. I smiled. I had never sunbathed topless 
before, and now I was doing it, and getting paid $16 an hour for it!

I first did my tummy and sides, and then my shoulders and back, as far as I 
could reach. Just putting off the inevitable, really. My breasts, unused to 
being in the open air, I did last.

If just being out here topless was naughty, then imagine how I felt rubbing 
lotion on my bare breasts. I couldn't help it: I was getting aroused, and even 
after I had thoroughly rubbed in the sunblock, getting complete coverage, I 
still was caressing them. I just didn't feel like stopping. I've touched myself 
before, I think we all have, but only in my bedroom with the door locked and 
everyone gone or downstairs. Doing it here, outside, was a lot more exciting.

At some point I closed my eyes. I wasn't sleepy anymore; parts of my body were 
wide awake... but I was feeling languid, and almost as if I was floating on the 
water outside instead of here in the chair. The water was warm, the perfect 
temperature, and all my stress was floating away.

I knew my nipples were hard now, like the tips of my little fingers; I could 
feel them, now part of the contours of my body, more things to play with. For 
the first time I started thinking, what if I made myself come, playing like 
this? I knew exactly how to do this, but I wanted to take my time. At that 
thought, part of me (my conscience?) was shouting "what are you doing?", but 
after a while that voice receded, as if drifting out on the water, away from me. 
I cupped my breasts, fondling them, imaging a guy doing this, like I had been 
walking around topless for some reason. Maybe in St. Tropez. A guy sees me, 
wearing nothing but a little thong, and is unable to resist my temptations.

I wanted more. Now my right hand was reaching underneath my fleece shorts; I 
always left the strings untied, so the waistband stretched easily. While I 
fondled my breast with the other hand, I reached down between my legs. First my 
thatch of pubic hair, and I got a thrill out of that: whenever a boy I was with 
first went there, it was obvious we weren't just making out anymore, things were 
getting serious. I spread my knees a bit and slunk lower in the seat.

I reached further underneath my shorts, and I found my slit. Of course I was 
already wet. I teased myself at first, stroking my lips with a gentle fingertip. 
I cannot exaggerate how good that felt. My palm stroked my mound as my finger 
drew along my sensitive lips. My nipples seemed even firmer, my breasts taut.

I inserted a finger, and then started getting myself off for real. Looking back, 
I wonder if I was making some noise which would have been obvious to anyone 
close enough to hear. But at that point I didn't care about anything but my 
sense of touch.

The shorts didn't provide any obstacle as I touched myself. But still they were 
annoying me; I wanted them completely off. I didn't want anything covering me. I 
guess a small part of me was still thinking practically, because I didn't simply 
kick them off into the sand. I decided that if I slid them down to my knees, I 
would still have time to quickly pull them back up and put on my top if someone 
approached. (My eyes were closed, I wasn't paying attention to the outside 
world, so that plan didn't make sense, but whatever.) I propped myself up on 
elbows and toes, and scooched my shorts down to my thighs. I lowered my bare 
bottom back onto the wooden seat, baked dry by years of sun, but thankfully not 
scorching hot right then. I slid my shorts down, nearly all the way off; instead 
of at my knees, I left them around my ankles. Even so, I wished my feet could 
also be free. But I was too chicken to let go of everything.

Now I was sitting there basically naked, legs spread, being very naughty, not a 
care in the world. I don't know how long I stayed that way, touching myself like 
that. I was starting to fantasize about other guys, other situations, but 
nothing really took hold. Eventually my hunger overpowered my desire to hold 
back, and I let myself come really hard. I couldn't believe it. The many nights 
I had sex with my boyfriend (we split up last May), it was never as good as 
this. I sat there for a long time recovering, letting the sun warm my bare skin. 
My eyes were shut. My legs were splayed apart. One hand rested on my moist 
pussy, while the other continued to idly caress my breast, almost on its own.

After my heartbeat slowed down, I opened my eyes, ready to return to the real 
world.

The beach and the water were full of people.

I sat up, overwhelmed, shocked, and I didn't move for a few moments, stunned. A 
lot of people were looking directly at me: how much did they see? Everything? I 
covered my breasts, and then remembered my shorts were down, too. First things 
first. I hastily pulled my shorts back up, using both hands. People got a few 
more peeks at my breasts, but I couldn't help that.

Even worse, I could see someone had swam out far beyond the others, and was 
calling for help!

Oh shit, I thought. How long had he been out there? I had that sinking feeling. 
I was busted, I was so fired. But my practice and training kicked in and I knew 
what I would have to do. But first, I'd have to put on my tank top, and I 
reached for where it should have been, right beside me.

It was gone.

I covered my breasts with one arm and looked around, really trying not to panic, 
because seconds were ticking by and I needed to go out there immediately. But 
the top was nowhere to be found! Now I was terrified of going out there, but I 
knew I had no choice. Someone's life in danger was more important than my 
comfort, or appearance, or embarrassment. The training had drilled that into us, 
and fortunately I hadn't forgotten.

I had to climb down the ladder to the sand. My throat went dry. There were a 
*lot* of people here, and they all could see my bare breasts bobbing as I 
climbed. I couldn't cover up until I had both feet on the ground. I turned and 
ran into the surf as fast as I could, looking very silly, hands over my boobs.

I was already so embarrassed I wanted to cry. Maybe I could move to Montana 
after this. Far away from anyone on this beach or anyone I knew.

When I dove into the water, my shorts instantly soaked up water and became 
heavy. As I swam, they slid back, baring my bottom and then my thighs, getting 
dragged down toward my feet! What a stupid idea to wear these clothes here! I 
would have been better off with a bra and panties. Even if they became 
see-through when wet, it was still better than losing them altogether!

I stood up in the shallow surf and pulled my shorts back up, aware that I was 
flashing my bare butt to the entire beach. If people could actually die of 
shame, I would have dropped right there.

I had already prepared myself for when I had to come back to shore with the guy 
I was rescuing; people had seen my boobs once, and they would see them again. 
There was no avoiding that. But to lose my shorts and have to go back there 
completely naked -- no way could I let that happen. Absolutely no way.

I swam with one hand, holding up my shorts with the other. Much slower going, 
but fortunately the guy calling for help was still head above water. I finally 
reached him; he was flailing and spitting water, bobbing in the waves, but not 
going under. He looked about my age, maybe a few years older. He must have 
thought he was a better swimmer than he really was. "Don't panic," I shouted as 
I floated next to him. "I'm going to bring you back to shore. What's your name?"

"Gus," he said, coughing a bit, but he was obviously still breathing fine. He 
was going to be OK. I felt a little better too; sure I had been embarrassed back 
at the beach, but here I was saving someone's life. And it sounds a little 
silly, but at that point it didn't matter what I was wearing. I was going to do 
a good job and all my training would pay off.

"OK, Gus, come here." I took his arms and he clung to me like a life preserver, 
arms around me, hands on my back. I don't know if he was expecting a handrail or 
what, but my bare skin was slippery in the water. His hands were all over my 
back. Even in his panic, he noticed something was odd. "Are you naked?" he said, 
as he moved one hand lower to check.

"Never mind that, Gus," I said, reaching back to move his hand away from my ass. 
"Just stay calm and we'll take you to safety."

He hugged me tightly, squeezing my breasts against his chest. "I don't want to 
drown," he cried.

"Don't hang on so tight," I said, pushing him away a little bit. "I'm not going 
to lose hold of you. I need to be able to move to bring you in." He was OK for a 
little bit but then he panicked and hugged me again, his chin on my shoulder. 
One of his hand slipped over my bare breast, his finger accidentally tweaking my 
nipple.

I was starting to lose my confidence and get really annoyed at him. It was more 
his fault, not mine, that I was out here topless, that tons of people had 
already seen me as I went in. If he hadn't screwed up I could still be in my 
chair and no one the wiser. And now, because of him, I'd have to give everyone a 
peep show all over again when I brought him back. His fault. Damn him for going 
out farther than he could swim, for not knowing his limits!

A wave took us by surprise and tilted us over, so I was sort of on my back and 
his face ended up between my breasts, which were now out of the water. I could 
tell he was fascinated by all this, staring intently at them as I paddled to 
stay afloat. I needed to get back to upright and get him off my chest. He was 
staring at my right nipple, still erect from before, and as I was thinking, no, 
he can't possibly be thinking of that, he put it in his mouth!

"Hey!" I cried, outraged; but he kept going; and with one hand started fondling 
my other breast. I could not believe this! From the shock, or the sensation of 
being played with, I no longer had strength or composure to get myself upright, 
or to fend him off.

I was getting hot. I didn't want to, but sometimes the body doesn't obey the 
brain. And my body didn't mind as his other hand, which had been on the small of 
my back, inched downward and underneath my shorts to my butt. During all this, 
he hadn't said a word. But somehow, part of my mind snapped into gear, and 
instead of trying to right myself I simply pushed him off. He went under a bit, 
but then bobbed back up.

"Do that again, and I'll fucking leave you out here!" I yelled, as I cinched up 
my waterlogged shorts.

"I'm sorry," he said, all innocent looking.

"Now come back, face to face, but at arm's length, and I'll take you in." I 
paddled over to him and got ready, but then another wave came, and he panicked 
again. He seemed to want to climb my like a tree and sit atop my shoulders, 
completely out of the water. He didn't get that far as his hands and feet flailed, trying to get a grip. Unfortunately, one foot got caught in the waistband of my shorts, and pushed it down to my knees.

I screamed again and pushed him away, and reached for my shorts. However, they 
were now sliding down my calves, just out of reach. I started panicking; I 
really didn't want to lose the only clothing I had! I brought my legs up to 
bring the shorts within reach, but instead they slipped farther down, bunching 
around my ankles. "Come on," I said to myself, bringing my knees to my chest.

I almost had the shorts when another wave came, filling my mouth with salt 
water, and I had to kick and paddle to stay afloat. Now my shorts just barely 
hung off one foot. The other foot was completely free! I jammed my feet together 
to try to keep the shorts from slipping off.

The guy had paddled toward me, and once again tried to climb on top of me. "No!" 
I yelled, but then I was thrust underwater. I kicked back up to surface, and 
made sure he was still floating. OK. Now back to getting my shorts on. But at 
that point my heart sank as my feet were completely free. The shorts had fallen 
off! I had a guy to bring back to shore, and I was naked!

"Stay there!" I yelled and dove under. I could see drifting sand; some rocks and 
shells; and the guy's kicking feet; but no shorts. C'mon, where were they? They 
had to be close by. I ran out of air, had to surface, and dove again. But I 
couldn't find them. By the time I surfaced again, I was crying. "I hope you're 
satisfied, you jerk!"



He had floated back into me and had one arm around my back, and the other was 
underwater; I didn't know where it was, until it went straight between my legs. 
He probed a few moments with a finger, and then inserted it inside me. I just 
yelled something at him. I didn't even know what to say. I couldn't believe what 
was going on.

"You really are naked," he said. "Don't you wear a swimsuit?"

"Shut. Up!" I said and shoved him away. I wished I could just let him stay 
there. I could swim underwater and come to shore a mile north, where there was 
no public beach. And then somehow find my way home. But he was my 
responsibility. If something happened to him... that would be a lot worse than 
being seen naked.

I yanked him toward me and let him hang, sort of piggyback style, on as I swam 
back. It was slow going. He held onto my shoulder with one hand, and had another 
arm around my stomach. His hand moved around as I tried to swim, and once he had hold of my right breast, he stayed there. I was too defeated to care. He fondled 
and squeezed it, playing with my nipple with a free finger, or gently trapping 
it between two. I just let him do it. Things were already at their worst.

We were getting closer to shore, and a lot of people were watching us come in. 
If they didn't already know I was naked, they would soon.

I was dead tired and had to stop. "We'll float here for a second," I said. He 
still hung off my back. His face was against the back of my neck, and he started 
kissing me there, at the nape of the neck and my shoulder. "Please don't do 
that," I said wearily. But he ignored me. His left hand slipped off my shoulder 
and under my arm, and now he was pawing my breasts with both hands. "Please," I 
cried, completely out of strength.

He pulled me close to him, and I could feel his erection beneath his swim 
trunks, poking at my bottom. He reached one arm around my chest for leverage, 
and with his other hand moved down, between my legs. "Why are you naked?" he 
asked again, but I don't think he cared much about an answer. I shuddered as he 
teased my labia and then inserted a finger inside.

I couldn't believe this. Completely naked, floating in the water, a stranger 
having his way with me; and my legs had started to spread apart, as if I was 
welcoming it!

Something told me that if I climaxed out here in the water I would never get the 
strength back to take him to shore. So I kicked and leaned forward, swimming 
away, and he held onto my hips like a kickboard, and I towed him in.

Pretty soon it was shallow enough for us to stand as I walked him in. So many 
people were staring at me. I avoided their eyes, looking at the ground. As the 
receding water showed more and more, I ended up doing a slow striptease for 
them. I wished I could crawl in a hole and die. First my bare shoulders were 
revealed, and then there were whoops and hollers from the crowd as they saw my 
breasts. At this point I was already crying from embarrassment. As I got even 
closer, and it was obvious I was wearing nothing at all, the noise got even 
worse. I could even see people with cameras.

Finally we were on dry land, away from the waves. Water was dripping off my bare 
body and making little pats of mud in the sand. I was required to make sure the 
guy was all right, and I asked him that. He hugged me again, tight and 
lingering, and thanked me for rescuing him. Then, whispering in my ear, he asked 
me to come home with him! "No way," I cried, pushing him away. I didn't know 
what to do next other than find my car and go home.

The crowd of people wasn't interested in clearing a path for me. I tried to wave 
them aside, and was prepared to push my way through, even though that would open me up to a lot of groping and fondling from the boys and men there. I didn't 
bother trying to cover up. They had already seen everything. Then I heard a 
familiar voice call my name, and found out, yes, things could indeed get worse.

Mike, my boss, was here.

"What in the hell are you doing?" He was nearly screaming, he was so pissed off. 
He glanced once at the guy I rescued, judged he was OK, then turned back to 
glare at me. "God, what is wrong with you?" He shook his head and then yanked my arm, pulling me away, walking so fast I nearly tangled my feet and fell.

He realized that he was out here in public and representing the lifeguards, and 
said some sort of apology to the crowd, and assured them that I would no longer 
be working here. I felt like dirt, standing there crying, having screwed up 
everything.

"Let's go," he said, and dragged me forward. The crowd parted for him, cheering 
and whistling, as he took me to his buggy. He had the small one that really only 
fit one person. He sat down and lifted me onto his lap. Then, with one hand on 
the steering wheel and one around my waist, we were riding along the beach, 
toward the guard house.

"I want to go home!" I sobbed. He didn't reply; apparently so angry he couldn't 
even speak. There were lots of people we passed by, kids, teens and adults, and 
they all must have wondered what the story was behind this naked girl being 
driven on a four-wheel dune buggy. I was surprised Mike didn't start fondling my 
breasts, or reaching between my legs. My body was right there for him, on his 
lap. I was relieved he didn't do anything then, because I had little will to 
resist.

When we got to the shack, he was treating me more gently, and led me into the 
equipment room. There were surfboards, tanks, and other things along the walls, 
and a long bench in the center. He sat me down, faced me, and took a deep breath 
to calm down. "I'd say that was the mother of all blonde moments," he said.

He was calmer now, but how he said that, on top of all the other times he had 
called me a ditz, was as malicious as ever. I started crying again, and that 
renewed his anger.

"What you did out there reflects badly on our entire team. I don't even want to 
think about the bad publicity we'll have, and how fucking long it will take to 
get our good reputation back. Look at yourself! You certainly live up to your 
hair color, don't you?"

He wouldn't leave that alone. I couldn't face him, and looked at the floor. "I 
want some clothes," I said.

"There aren't any here," Mike said. He put a hand on my shoulder and another on 
my chin, gently lifting my head up. My eyes must have looked really red. "Kelly, 
I need you to tell me what happened. From the very beginning. I need to know 
what, when, how and why."

I huddled myself, legs crossed and arms folded over my chest. There was still a 
lot showing. I told him everything, from the beginning of this story, but tried 
to dance around the fact that I was masturbating in the guard chair. I probably 
didn't do to well. Anyway, he was mostly quiet. The one thing he said was "Your 
mother was right," and I demanded to know what he meant, but he wouldn't answer. 
When I finished, I was surprised to see I had gained some sympathy.

He sighed. "Kelly, you made some really bad decisions, but still you've been 
through a hell of an experience. I think anyone would feel shellshocked at this 
point." He got me a bottle of water from the cooler and let me drink. "Now is 
this the first time you did something like this?"

"Yes!" I said, indignant.

"There wasn't something with your friend? What's her name, Felicia?"

"Oh my god! Felice!" Now I remembered. It had been only two days ago. But how 
had Mike heard about it?

---

Felice is a good friend and is also my age. She's part Brazilian and Polynesian, 
and really gorgeous. A few inches shorter than me, but really curvy build, big 
breasts, nice butt, glossy black hair, and really bright eyes. She can look at 
you and smile, and it's the best feeling in the world that she likes you.

On Wednesday, two days earlier, she called up around lunchtime and asked what I 
was doing. It was my day off, so not much at all. Probably read for a while, 
then maybe go shopping.

She suggested laying out in my backyard and then going to dinner somewhere. That sounded good. When she arrived, I had a cooler with some drinks, a blanket, a 
book, some sunscreen, and tanning goggles. These looked like swim goggles but 
were opaque, and protected your eyes like sunglasses but without the raccoon 
effect. Felice had never seen them, so I had to explain what they were.

We picked our spots and I put the goggles on. I decided to lay on my stomach 
first. Felice offered to put sunscreen on the hard-to-reach places, and ended up 
doing my entire back. She untied my bikini top and moved the strings to either 
side. This was the first time I had laid out to get a tan all summer.

("I thought you didn't have any swimsuits left after the one-piece got shrunk," 
said Mike; and I was really disoriented for a moment. Of course I had other 
swimsuits; about five of them, in my little drawer! Why on Friday did I not 
think I had any? I was really upset with myself for this, but Mike asked me to 
continue.)

I dozed off after a while, laying there on the towel, and woke when Felice 
tapped my shoulder. "Time to turn over," she said. I was still groggy when I 
turned over, so it wasn't until I was lying on my back that I realized my top 
was off. I covered with one arm and blindly tried to find my top with the other 
hand. My goggles were still on, and I couldn't see anything.

"It's OK," said Felice. "I just put it aside. There's nobody looking, anyway. 
What's to worry about?"

"There's a 15-year old boy next door with a second-story bedroom!" I said. "He 
could easily see us!"

There was a pause, and then Felice laughed. "I guess there is. I think I saw his 
curtain move."

"Give me my top! He's looking at me right now!"

"It's no big deal," she said. "Here." She took my hand and placed it on her bare 
breast. She was topless too. "I took off my top as soon as you had turned over. 
That was an hour ago."

"Still, I don't think we should be -"

"And how about this," Felice said. She moved my hand slowly down her side, to 
her waist, hips, ass, and thighs. Bare skin, everywhere. Then inside, between 
her legs, I felt her patch of pubic hair, and even her moist lips.

"Felice, my god!"

She laughed. "So he's seen a lot more of me than of you."

"You've been naked this whole time?"

"It's not a big thing. Think about it. Your boy next door has already imagined 
you naked. Who knows what you're doing for him in his fantasies. Seeing you just 
laying out here on a blanket, that's practically PG-13."

"He'll tell his mom, and then she'll tell my mom!"

"This is your yard," she said. "It's his fault for looking, not yours." She 
paused. "Although it is tempting to walk over and ask him to join us."

"NO!" I yelled. "Felice, what's gotten into you?" I realized my finger was still 
touching her vagina and I yanked it away.

"Kelly, I think you're really stressing out for no reason. What I'm going to do 
is have you put your arms aside, and I'll put sunscreen on you, everywhere 
that's exposed. You just relax. And at the end, see if you're comfortable with 
this."

She was convincing enough that I laid my hands at my hips, baring my breasts. 
Her fingers and hands were gentle and sensual as she caressed me, as a lover 
would. And I mean I loved her as a good friend, but that day she was into much 
more sharing that we ever had done before. And it was OK, it was good. The 
goggles kept my world dark, so there was just the feel of Felice's touch, the 
smell of her, the sound of her voice.

"Don't move your arms," she said softly as she caressed my breasts, her thumbs 
on my nipples, definitely with erotic intent. I wanted to wrap my arms around 
her, although maybe just to get her to stop, to take a break, get back to our 
old comfortable friendship.

Now she was at my waist, applying more cream, when she had me lift my hips. I 
knew what was coming next, and was partly scared of it, and partly welcomed it. 
She slowly pulled down my bikini briefs and then I was laying there as naked as 
she was. I could feel the sun everywhere on my skin, just like at the guard 
chair. Her hands were on my bare legs, my calves, my hips and bottom, and when 
she was all done, when I was covered in sunscreen and nothing else, she sat or 
kneeled next to me, and leaned over. I could feel her shadow blocking the warm 
sun.

"Lick your lips," she said, "and then open your mouth." Then her nipple grazed 
my lips and I closed them, kissing it. When she put a finger inside my pussy, I 
started sucking harder, and that made her move faster, and we wound each other 
up. This was my first time ever fooling around with a woman. Her first time? I 
didn't know. I made her come, just licking her breasts, and then I came too. She 
lay down beside me and guided my face toward hers, and kissed me. Then we spent a long time just embracing and kissing. Afterward, spent, we both lay on our 
backs, one of her legs over mine, not caring who saw us.

After dinner, though, she went home, and I haven't talked to her since then.

---

After telling the story, I was a little shaken. First, I didn't even remember it 
had happened until Mike brought it up; and second, I really did have some other 
swimsuits I could have worn! I was wearing one that day! How did I not know that 
this morning? None of this would have happened! Why did I mess up things so 
badly?

It was nice to be inside the guard shack, out of the public eye, and I was 
relieved that Mike didn't seem as super furious as he was before. Still, it had 
been a really shitty day, and I was still sitting naked in front of this guy, 
and getting pretty tired. "Can you get me a ride home? Or at least back to my 
car?"

Mike nodded. "Yes, let's go."

I was reluctant to go back outside, but knew that each step would be closer to 
being home. Mike led me by the hand not to the buggy, but to the adjacent 
parking lot. Not where I was parked.

"Where are we going?"

"Just come along." He took me to his jeep, which was open-air, no doors, and 
then I was covering my quivering boobs with my hands as we rode onto the 
highway.

I tried to get him to tell me where he was taking me, but he wouldn't say. What 
I didn't expect is that he would take me to his own house.

It was a nice big place, in a gated community, very expensive for a senior 
lifeguard's salary. Did he marry into money? Mike had never talked about his 
personal life, other than he was married. And that might have been just to have 
us girls feel more at ease than if he was single.

It must have looked so ridiculous: Mike parked the Jeep in the driveway and 
marched me up the front walkway, naked in the view of all these million-dollar 
houses. Mike unlocked the door and ushered me in.

His wife was there.

She was fashionably thin, in elegant casual clothes, just like the rich women 
downtown; short brunette hair and green eyes. She was a pretty woman. And she 
stared at Mike and I with a look of shock and grief.

"This is Kelly, from the beach," he said amiably. "She'll be staying with us for 
a while."

She stared at me for a moment and then glared at Mike. "Why. Is she here. Like 
this."

"Kelly, why don't you go to the living room," Mike said. "I need to talk with 
Moira a sec."

It took much longer than that. I stood for a while in the living room, hearing 
muffled voices as they argued. I couldn't even decide whether to sit down; I was 
dead tired, but the furniture looked really expensive and I might get in trouble 
for sitting naked on it. But more time passed, and Mike still hadn't come 
downstairs; so I slumped down in the end of a large sofa and tried to think of 
what to do. I guess adrenaline and fear had kept me semi-alert so far, because 
once I was resting and things were quieter, I quickly fell asleep.

My slumber was full of dreams; but I only remembered the first and last.

In the first, my eyes were shut, but the warm air, gentle scents and sounds told 
me where I was: back at the beach, atop the lifeguard chair. But something was a 
little off. I opened my eyes.

To start, I was naked, head to toe. There was no sign of my clothes anywhere. 
Where had I left them? How long had I been up here like this?

It was strange, the feeling of having jumped into my own body, kind of joining 
myself in progress. For one, I was suddenly feeling very aroused. My legs were 
spread a little, and the middle finger of my right hand was deep inside me. I 
was really moist, and my nipples were hard. The lifeguard chair wasn't the one I 
normally used: it was just as tall, but without railings or arms. Nothing to 
hide behind.

I looked down, and a throng of people were watching.

What's worse, I knew every one of these people staring at me. Not one of them 
was a stranger. This seems incredible, but inside the dream it was undeniably 
true. There were classmates, friends, people from church, little kids from down 
the street, my mom, other lifeguards, all unable to tear their eyes away. And 
not only was I naked, I had been playing with myself!

But some people stopped looking directly up at me; their interest was below. I 
leaned forward to find out what had their attention.

Two naked men were climbing my chair. I didn't recognize them. Lean, erect, and 
feral, they looked like jungle animals going for the kill. Their penises were 
huge and erect. My shame and confusion turned quickly to fear. They were only 
seconds away from reaching me. One hand brushed my foot as I jumped up and 
perched on the seat. Then I leaped off the side, dropping about 12 feet to the 
sand.

I landed off-balance and stumbled forward, falling on my face. But I had to get 
up quickly. The men had jumped off too, like cats, and glared at me. I got up, 
spat out sand, and started running.

I dodged people walking and jumped over people sunbathing, afraid to look back. 
Even one hesitation, and they could catch up. I could sense them right behind 
me. And nobody was helping me, even though I was obviously in danger. They were all just watching the spectacle.

I could see the guard shack, about 200 feet away. If I got there first and could 
lock the door behind me, I'd be safe.

I jumped over one more blanket and my foot landed wrong, a hole where I didn't 
see or expect it. Maybe a kid's sand castle. But I tripped and fell, and before 
I could even get up one of the guys chasing me roughly flipped me on my back. 
Some people took my hands and forced my arms apart; then the same was done with my legs. One of the feral men lowered himself onto me and forced himself inside; I was still wet from when I was playing with myself. I was thinking, No, please, not this way!

Mercifully, that was where that dream ended.

The last dream was at my house, late at night, about 2 am. I woke up thirsty and 
decided to go to the kitchen for some ice water. I was wearing this nightshirt, 
sort of a long T-shirt that used to go down to my knees. After going thru the 
laundry countless times, it had shrunk to about mid-thigh, hugged my body more 
than it used to, and the fabric had gotten thin. That would be no big deal, 
since I was the only one up. The house was dark and quiet. I flipped on the 
hallway light and headed out.

When I got to the living room, I found out I wasn't the only one up. My brother 
and his friend Brad were watching some softcore thriller on cable, with the 
sound almost all the way down. No other lights were on.

(I don't have a brother in real life, but in the dream I did. He was about 22, 
older than me. Even in the dream, I don't think I found out his name.)

Brad saw me first, silhouetted in the light from hallway. Thinking back, it must 
have shone right through my nightshirt and outlined my body underneath. I wonder 
if I looked like some sort of erotic angel. He did take a second or two before 
saying "Hey, Kel."

My brother did some sort of wise-guy salute.

"Just getting some water," I said, still a little sleepy.

"Can you grab a couple beers?" my brother said. "There should be some left."


"OK." I walked into the kitchen, which was very dark, but I knew my way to the 
fridge: just straight across from the living room. In fact, you could see it 
from the couch.

I opened the door and was bathed in fluorescent light. I looked for the beer, 
but couldn't find it, and must have stood there a long time. Brad walked up 
beside me, put a hand on my shoulder. I wasn't dressed for mixed company at all. 
"You know, I think we finished them all," he said. "Sorry for making you look."

I turned to him. "It was my brother, not you." The door was still open and cool 
air was chilling the back of my legs. It seemed like my nightshirt was shorter 
than ever, like miniskirt length.

He looked me up and down, then put a hand on my hip, taking a bit of the 
material between thumb and finger. "Do you usually wear this to bed?"

I was kind of under a spell. "Yeah."

"Anything underneath?"

"No." This was already the most personal conversation I had ever had with Brad. 
He was an OK guy, kind of good looking; I just tended not to pay attention to my 
brother's friends.

"It's kinda see-thru," he said.

"Yeah." Suddenly I really enjoyed the attention I was getting. I put my arms 
around him and we started making out.

It was naughty enough, kissing my brother's friend, wearing only this flimsy 
nightshirt. But then he pulled it up above my waist. My butt started getting 
chilled except where he had his hands, and he only had one back there anyway. 
With the other he was probing between my legs, tickling my bush, and finally 
playing directly with my pussy. All the while we were still kissing.

He came up for air, and I raised my hands, whispering that he should just take 
the whole thing off. He was good with that. I finally kicked the fridge door 
shut and we were mostly in darkness. He fondled me all over and licked my 
breasts, just driving me crazy.

Then he stopped. "Let's go back to the couch."

I didn't want to stop. "My brother's there."

"He'll be cool," Brad said, and took me over.

My brother looked up at us, but then went back to watching the movie, as though 
seeing his sister naked was no big thing.

"Scoot over," Brad said, and sat me down between them. Then I leaned back on 
Brad's lap, resting my head on a pillow to the side, and plopped my legs on my 
brother's lap. Brad idly played with my breasts and pussy as we all watched TV.

And then I woke up.

It took a few seconds to figure out where I was. Back in Mike's living room, 
naked, laying on the couch. Mike was kneeling at my side, one hand on my bare 
breast. "You awake?" he said.

"Yeah." I looked out the picture window: dark already. "How long did I sleep?"

"A few hours. I got us some dinner. Hungry?"

"Yes..."

"C'mon up." He took my hand and led me to the kitchen table. Two place settings 
were already out. Chinese food.

"Can I wear something?"

"Not yet," Mike said. We sat down and started to eat. "How do you feel? Dizzy? 
Drowsy?"

"I feel OK," I said. Clearheaded, despite how weird everything was. Sitting here 
naked at the table of a married man, having dinner with him?

"After dinner we'll talk about what happened today," he said. "And about what 
happens next."

"Mmm-hmmmgh," I said, keeping my mouth closed because I had just taken a bite.

After we were done, he moved his chair next to mine and turned me so we were 
face to face. "Can I go home now?" I said.

He had a pained look. "It's not that easy," he said. 

"My mom must be worried sick by now!"

"She already knows where you are."

I was dumbfounded. This didn't make any sense.

He continued, "The story you told me about today, and what happened in your 
backyard Wednesday; they were mostly true, but you left out a few things. Or 
possibly forgot them."

"Left out what?"

"Let's go to Wednesday. You said Felice came over, you lay down on your stomach 
and she stripped everything off. Then when you turned over, she stripped your 
bikini off and you made out for a little while. Then you got dressed and went to 
dinner. Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

He sighed. "The guy next door was looking through his window at you and didn't 
even notice when his mother entered the room. She saw you both, called your mom, and then your mom marched out and caught you both in the act."

"Oh my god!"

"She was so shocked she could hardly move. It was only until you and Felice 
started relaxing that she stormed out and started yelling at you. You and Felice 
were yelling back."

I could feel myself turning beet red. What he said was true. It was just so 
traumatic, I had blocked it out. Only Mike going over it was helping me remember.

"At that point, she kicked you out of the house. Told Felice never to set foot 
there again or she'd call the cops. She didn't even let you back inside; didn't 
even let you put clothes on. She just marched you both around the side yard to 
Felice's car and stood there until you drove off."

"What happened next?" I still couldn't remember.

"I'm guessing you stayed at Felice's house or another friend's. Then on Friday 
you borrowed some clothes and drove to the beach to start your shift."

Now I felt extremely tired, beaten down. But there was still hope. "It's been 
two days. Can I call my Mom, try to talk to her?"

"Sure." He reached back, put his phone on speakerphone, and dialed. My mom 
answered, and I said "Mom?" but Mike put a finger to his lips. "Mrs. Klein," he 
said. "Your daughter would like to talk to you about what happened Wednesday."

The hate that dripped from my mother's voice was like a stake through my heart. 
"You tell that slut that she is no longer my daughter. My daughter does not do 
those horrible things she did! She is no longer welcome in my house. Ever!" And 
then she hung up!

"It's real," Mike said.

Well, I was a wreck at that point. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. 
I sat on Mike's lap, crying on his shoulder, arms draped around him. He was now 
the one familiar thing here, the one comfort zone. He was all I had. I cried for 
a long time.

Then I had an idea. "I'd like to go to Felice's. She can help me for a while. 
It's better than here."

Mike shook his head. "Felice has the same problems you do. I don't think it's 
good for you and her to be together until whatever you have is fixed."

"What do you mean, fixed?"

"There's some fundamental reason for what you did and what happened to you," he 
said. He stood me up. "Right now, you've got nothing to your name, not even any 
clothing. Think of it as a clean start."

"What do I do?"

"Right now, I think you should get ready for bed."

He showed me the guest room, where I would sleep. It had its own full bathroom, 
which he had stocked with every sort of health, beauty and hygiene product he 
could think of. There was a closet, but it was bare (like me): just a few empty 
hangers.

I stood there a few moments, thinking. Mike was casually looking me over. I 
realized something: ever since I had started as a lifeguard, I had subtly 
noticed him gazing at me like that. Sneak peeks, especially when others probably 
weren't looking. The yellow swimsuit hugged my curves really well, back when I 
was wearing it; and he had pored over those curves so many times. He must have 
been imagining what I'd look like with the suit off. It was so obvious now. And 
when that weird chain of events caused me to be naked, he decided, even against 
his better judgment, that he was not going to let me go.

Why did he scold me so much, then? Why did he call me a dizzy blonde every 
chance he got? Well, don't boys in school tease the most the girls they secretly 
have crushes on?

To be naked in front of him, and to be wanted so intensely, was making me 
aroused. I looked at Mike. He was in good shape, decently handsome, and could be 
charming when he wanted to. The main thing I didn't like was how he had treated 
me. But seeing things in a different light...

I took his hand, laid it on my bare breast. I looked up at him. Mike, I'm yours, 
I thought. At least for now.

He took me on the guest bed, without even turning down the comforter. I lay on 
my back, comfortably padded. He kissed my thighs, my breasts, and my neck. He 
stripped off his shirt; I ran my hands over his muscular chest. His pants came 
off next, and his boxers; his penis bobbed up, stiffening. The sight made me 
moist.

We didn't say anything to each other, but I was making more and more noise. 
Looking back, I figured his wife Moira was sure to have overheard us. He fondled 
my tingling breasts, and the head of his penis tapped against my inner thighs as 
he leaned forward. I took him in my hands and guided him in.

I gasped. He was big, and even though I was wet, I was still tight. He'd have to 
ease his way in, let me stretch a little. "Oh god, Mike," I said, softer at the 
end, remembering his wife was around; but as he moved all the way in, and we 
started thrusting, it felt so delicious that I no longer cared about keeping 
quiet. I looked up at him, seeing his features for the first time, his firm 
chin, his bright green eyes. If only I had known. That first day on the job, 
when he had looked me over, me standing there shyly, worrying that my nipples 
were poking out too much against the yellow swimsuit, that I was a little more 
exposed than I wanted to me -- if only I had known then. I would have peeled off 
my suit right there. He could have taken me right then, there in the office. I 
wouldn't have picked the suit back up. I would have never worn anything again.

The feeling of him inside me was winding me up and up. He had been imagining me 
in the position all this time... every day, while I wore nothing but that thin 
yellow swimsuit... I raked my nails along his back, luxuriating in the feeling 
of him filling me up, stoked by the naughtiness of where we were doing it, and 
where we might have done it earlier, if I had only known...

There was such heat building up, a core between my legs, and sensation overload 
everywhere he touched me. I was moving, but my body's motion was not under my 
control. It was like I was strapped in, along for the ride. His eyes gazed into 
mine, and I swear I saw them harden first, before his body began to stiffen as 
well, his movements more deliberate, forceful. Then he let go, he came, and I 
came too, and it was only later, after we had calmed down, that I realized I 
must have been moaning, even screaming, at the very end. The silence now, as he 
nuzzled the nape of my neck, cloaked us like a blanket.

I showered and climbed into bed. He went upstairs. I wondered if his wife had 
stayed up there, had heard the whole thing.

* * *

Now I know this story hasn't portrayed me in a complimentary light. I've tried 
my best to tell exactly what happened, and admit everything. But I'd like to 
take my own defense for a moment, against those of you who would call what I did 
"falling into my captor's arms", as the blondest thing of all.

I knew my life was a mess at that point. Everyone I knew would quickly find out 
about what happened. I just didn't want to go out there and face them right 
then.

Mike offered a fresh start. Like he said, I had nothing -- not even clothes on 
my back. He offered a place to stay and a chance to get back on my feet.

I stayed for about 11 months, and stayed willingly.

He eventually bought me some clothes, slowly accumulating a varied assortment 
that never seemed to add up to a complete outfit. I was almost never completely 
dressed, unless we left the house (and sometimes not even then). Much of the 
time I was nude. He bought a bikini bottom, which I sometimes wore around the 
house; ironically, when I swam in his backyard pool, I never wore anything. 
Maybe that image of me emerging from the surf, naked and dripping wet, was 
something he wanted to keep fresh.

There's much more I could tell about my year with Mike, but they're moving on to 
the next story, so I'll stop here. The next one is (I think) Jim's story, which 
happened only a day later and on another beach about 15 miles away. So that's 
all for now, but I'll be back.