Amanda's Awakening

Now if someone had asked me at any prior time in my life what I should do in this situation, I would have said, "Run." But that thought never crossed my mind, or if it did, it was a fleeting thought at best, quickly erased by the raging hormones my beach reading and masturbating had released. No, I wanted to see this unknown guy beating off. I needed to see him. I deserved to see him!

So I got up and walked quietly across the floor, my naked tits jiggling deliciously. I bent over and peaked through a crack in the boards and was shocked to realize that it was my brother-law Larry who was masturbating in the next room. Again the rational thing to do would have been to get the hell out of there and let Larry have his privacy. Then I could go back to the house smugly thinking about what a perv Larry was.

That idea did not prevail. First, I already knew Larry was a perv, so there was nothing new there. Second, I had been doing the same thing moments before, so if Larry was a perv, then so was I, and I didn't want to go there. Finally, I was still horny. Maybe as horny as I had ever been. Rational thought was out of the question.

Instead I pushed my swimsuit down my legs and quietly pushed it away with my foot, so I was as naked as Larry. Then I began to masturbate again as I watched him bring himself to a climax. He didn't last long. Within a few dozen strokes his body stiffened, and then his long, hard cock shot several ropes of white cum onto the floor. He took a deep breath, quickly pulled his Speedo suit over his still swollen prick and left the shower.

Now I was alone. I walked naked back to the bench and took my time bringing myself to a violent climax as I kept replaying the image of Larry stroking his big, hard cock. Afterward I just lay there for five minutes or more coming down from my orgasm. Eventually I rose, showered (god that water was cold!), rinsed out my suit, toweled myself down, and got dressed. Instead of pulling on my suit, now soaked with the cold water from the shower, I just put the beach wrap on to walk back to the house. It didn't do a very good job of concealing my bouncing tits, and it didn't even come down to the middle of my thighs, but it got me back to the house. Besides I was enjoying the warm air on my naked pussy and the swinging of my tits as I walked back—not quite naked, but it felt like it. Okay, yes, I was still randy. Sometimes one climax, even a good one, just won't get the job done.

When I got back to the house I walked quickly past everyone in the living room and kitchen, telling them I had to dress, and then collapsed on the bed in my room. As I did that my wrap fell open so I was nearly naked.

"What the fuck was that?" I silently asked myself. "I've never done anything like that. And why wasn't I feeling guilty?" I had enjoyed it while it was happening, and I was still enjoying it. "What the fuck?" I repeated. "And why am I using this kind of language?"

I would have lain there puzzling about the experience a good deal longer if one of the kids hadn't knocked at the door telling me that the pizza was ready. I pulled on a dress, not thinking about a bra or panties and trotted down the stairs. As I walked across the room and sat down, I realized that my tits were bouncing beneath the thin dress I was wearing, and Larry and his brother-in-law, Art, had their eyes riveted on my chest. Normally I would have been humiliated and blushed furiously (actually, I normally would have worn a bra and panties), but this time I just smiled inwardly, a tiny, little, small smile, telling me how good it is to be a woman sometimes. The pizza and the beer were delicious.

After dinner I was helping Jolene with the dishes, when she asked, "Lose your bra?"

This time I did blush. "Oh, so you noticed?"

"I think everyone did when you came in to join us for dinner."

"Oops."

"Don't sweat it, Amanda. As a former stripper, I'm hardly in a position to criticize you for forgetting your bra. . . . By the way, did you forget your panties too?"

"Jolene! How did you know that?"

"I didn't. But I do now?" she laughed as she hung up a dishtowel and started to walk from the kitchen. Then she turned and looked at me. "You know, I think this trip may be doing you some real good."

I laughed. "Go on, get out of here."

"Okay," she said, "But tomorrow we are going shopping for a better swimsuit for you before we go to the beach. That one you had on today looked like you stole it from a convent."

As she walked away I turned back to the sink smiling broadly. "She wouldn't have thought it looked like it came from a convent if she had seen how I was wearing it just before I watched her husband jacking off in the shower," I said in a voice that couldn't be heard above the water running in the sink.

I played Monopoly with the kids that evening until their parents put them to bed. Then I joined the adults who were watching a movie. I thought the movie was dull, so I went to bed. Actually I wanted to read another chapter of Jolene's racy book.

I peeled off my dress, crawled naked under the light sheet on the bed, and started to read where I had left off on the beach. My mind kept drifting back to the beach shower with a feeling of guilt. Well, just a little guilt. Probably more lust than guilt.

"Where is this guilt I'm feeling coming from?" I asked myself. "Really, what had I done that was so bad? I hadn't exposed myself to anyone. Yes, I had masturbated in a public place, but there was no one there, so no harm, no foul, right?"

As I lay there thinking about it, I found myself getting horny—horny and guilty at the same time. "So how does that work?" I asked myself, as I slid my right hand under the sheet and began to lightly rub my pussy lips. Ahhh, that feels good, I thought. Much better than that dull movie they're all watching downstairs.

But the guilt was still there. "What the hell had I been thinking?" I demanded of myself. "Really Amanda. That was your sister's husband you were peeping at. And then you were sitting naked on the bench in a public building with your knees spread and your heels hooked on the edge of the bench, and I don't even remember how many fingers in my pussy. God what would your mother say about such conduct? 'Awful! Despicable!'"

The middle finger on my right hand slid down to the opening of my pussy, and I felt the warm slippery juices leaking from it. Then I drew the now slick finger up between my outer lips, stopping just before I reached my clit. So nice. My mind returned to the beach shower. "I had three fingers in my cunt and my thumb on my clit, and it felt good, damn it!" As I spoke silently I pulled my knees up beneath the sheet, spreading them to improve my access.

"But watching your brother-in-law masturbate? What kind of conduct is that?" I asked myself as the guilt came flooding back. "You're nothing but a Peeping Tom!" I told myself. "And you were naked and masturbating as you watched him!''

But the guilt didn't drive away my lust. As I lectured myself about my conduct, I slipped a second and then a third finger into my cunt. I let my thumb just graze my engorged clit where it was peaking out from beneath its hood. I realized that I was massaging a tit with my left hand and softly stroking its rapidly engorging nipple. When had I started that? I was out of control.

"Oh fuck, that feels good," I told myself. "Fuck my mother and anyone else who wants to keep me from enjoying myself like I did this afternoon, . . . ooh and like I am right now." I cast the sheet off so I was lying naked on my back with my knees pulled up and my legs spread as wide as I could get them. My posture was just obscene. Now I had three fingers in my cunt, and the fingers on my left hand were lightly rubbing my clit. In my mind I was back in the beach shower watching Larry stroke his beautiful hard on while I peeked through the crack between the boards, bent at the waist with my ass sticking out and my fingers fucking myself from behind.

Guilt? No. Now the guilt was banished in favor of pure unadulterated lust. Lust that I was enjoying immensely as I brought myself to the edge of an orgasm. I quickly reached down with one hand and grabbed the corner of the sheet so I could jam a handful of it into my mouth. I didn't want to scream and alert everyone downstairs to my randy actions. That wasn't guilt—just a desire for a little privacy.

Now the only thing in my mind was the image of Larry's big cock squirting stream after stream of white cum onto the pitted concrete of the Hombres' shower. As I saw him cum in my mind, I pinched my clit and triggered a long, ferocious orgasm.

I spit the sheet out and lay on my back for a few moments, gasping as I came down from my climax. Then I rolled to my side and pulled my legs up so I was curled into a fetal position. I turned off the bedside lamp and let myself drift off to sleep.

I masturbated two more times that night, each time replaying the lurid scene in the beach shower. When I awoke in the morning the guilt was banished, and I arose deciding to go with my sister this morning to get a skimpy bikini—maybe not as skimpy as hers, but still one that would show much more skin than my frumpy old one-piece.

I think my sister was shocked that I took her up on her suggestion that we find me a new swimsuit, but she responded enthusiastically when I raised the issue over breakfast. Ultimately, the suit I picked was nowhere near as revealing as her suit (which I thought of as "dental floss") nor was it as revealing as the numerous skimpy suits she pushed me towards, but when I walked down to the beach and pulled off my wrap, it felt like next to nothing. Really, I felt naked, or next to naked, even though it amply covered all the critical parts.

There were two problems with the new suit. First I had to shave a lot of fur off before I could wear it down to the beach. My sister offered to help, but I politely declined and took care of it myself. I had intended to shave only those portions that were essential, but as I got into it, I concluded that judging what had to come off and where was too complicated, so I just shaved myself bare. I giggled as I thought of what my ex-husband would have thought of my new look. Actually, he probably wouldn't have noticed—the bastard!

The second problem with the new suit was that it exposed a lot of skin that had never seen the sun before. I had tanned a bit at a local tanning shop in my old suit before I left, So now I was decorated in a series of contrasting stripes—dark tan, pale white, the day glow orange of the new suit, more pale white, more orange, and finally more tan on my legs. Bizarre. Like some kind of multicolored, multilayered Oreo cookie. There was nothing to be done about it, so I liberally applied sun block to the all the skin the new suit exposed (with help from Larry on my back, who was to my surprise a gentleman about it), greased up the three kids and headed out to supervise their romp in the surf. Every time I re-greased the kids, I did the same for myself.

The three children and their parents went in early in the afternoon, leaving Jolene, Larry, and me on the beach. I was laying in the sun on my stomach when Jolene leaned over me and untied the strings on the back of my bikini top, telling me that I was going to have a white stripe. I was doubtful, given how much the skimpy string had been moving while I romped in the surf with the kids, but I ignored her. Actually I kind of liked having the string untied and lying on either side of me. It felt to me like I was half naked on the beach—something I thought I would never have dared to do.

After a while, Larry announced he was going for a run. He rose and headed down the beach. I couldn't help watching him and his tight buns, barely covered by his Speedo suit, as he jogged away.

I rose up on my elbows as I watched him. My position left my suit top on the towel and my tits fully exposed. I liked the feeling, but it was easy to do when the only two other people on the beach were Larry, who was jogging away from me, and Jolene, who was behind me and engrossed in her book. I'm sure I wouldn't have been brave enough that day to peel my top off and sit bare-breasted in plain view of others—not yet. Not that day.

Jolene announced that she had finished her book and was going back to the house. After she left, I decided I had had enough sun. I looked around and seeing no one on the beach, I sat up, leaving my bikini top behind. Okay, okay, I admit there was no one to see me, but I got a rush from sitting nearly naked on the beach. I stood up and dragged my towel into the shade of the beach umbrella, still half naked. Eventually, I put the top back on and began to read the book Jolene had left behind the day before.

I read for about half an hour, making myself decidedly horny. I wasn't prepared to masturbate on the beach, even if it was empty. My few minutes of being topless had pushed me to my limit. That was about the time Larry came wading out of the ocean (having swum back from wherever he had jogged to). As I saw him wading out of the surf, I reached behind my back and loosened the strings that held my top in place. It wasn't going to fall off, but the cups that ostensibly covered my tits were now loose. When Larry walked up he stopped to chat for a moment. I sat up and leaned forward knowing that he was getting an eyeful of my tits as the bikini top fell forward to the extent of the play in the strings. I was sitting cross-legged and just before he got to me, I pushed my butt forward pulling the thin cloth of the suit tight over my sex. Not much was left to Larry's imagination. It was all pretty innocuous, but I felt like a wanton exhibitionist. It was delicious.

Larry stayed for a few minutes talking and seriously ogling my exposed and semi-exposed parts. Then he said he had to get back. As he stood up to walk to the showers, I could see that the lump in his Speedo was much larger than it had been when he walked up. I was getting to him. I smiled to myself, as he walked away.

My plan was to stay and read for another half an hour and then head back, but when I saw the bulge in Larry's suit, all thought of that plan was gone. Now I wanted to go up to the shower and watch him masturbate again. I didn't know that he would, not for sure, but I hoped he would, and if he did, I didn't want to miss it.

My conscience tried to intervene again with a dose of guilt, but it was quickly subdued by my libido. I stood and rapidly gathered my things and then followed Larry toward the shower. I had failed to tighten my bikini top and as a result my tits were swinging as I hustled up the beach in pursuit of Larry and his overstuffed swimsuit. I was a little concerned that the top might fall off completely, but at this point, I really didn't care.

When I got there, I could hear water running in the Hombres' side of the shower, so I quickly and quietly set my things down and stepped into the Senoritas' side. The damned old door creaked as I opened it and again when I closed and latched it. Nothing to be done about it.

I stripped off my bikini and stepped over to the crack in the boards where I had watched him the day before. Yes! It was Larry again. He was just standing in the shower washing the salt out of his hair, but when he turned toward me I could see that he was seriously aroused. His dick was still hanging down alongside his leg, but my god it was big. How had he kept it stuffed in his skimpy swimsuit when he walked off the beach? I could feel my nipples swelling as I just looked at it. Contrary to popular belief, the cold water of the shower didn't seem to be having any adverse effect on the beautiful semi-erect cock I was staring at. Note for future: telling a guy to take a cold shower isn't going to kill off his libido.

My imagination had me sucking Larry's cock to full erection and then it soaked my face and tits in hot slippery cum . . . but of course I had never sucked a cock like that one. I had barely sucked a cock at all—a time or two with my ex-husband (utter failures), and once the summer after I finished high school. The poor little thing had barely gotten hard before it dribbled a trickle of cum down my chin, whereupon its owner had pulled up his pants and left. I always wondered if he was just an asshole or was embarrassed by his abysmal performance. But, lack of experience doesn't impair imagination when it comes to sex. In my mind I was doing a fabulous job of deep throating the beautiful cock I was looking at.

Larry quickly finished his shower and toweled himself dry. For a moment I feared he wasn't going to masturbate, but then he sat on the bench and lubed his cock up with a liberal dose of sun block. He leaned back and began to stroke his cock—long, slow strokes that quickly brought it to full erection. He used one hand to hold his cock in place while the other gripped it and slid slowly from the base to the top in a twisting motion followed by a polish of the knob and then a long slow twisting stroke back down to the base. The precum leaking from the eye was making a slimy foam with the sunblock he had smeared on the head of his prick.

As Larry stroked himself, I rubbed my tits, which were hanging down from my chest in a most obscene fashion. Occasionally I would reach down and run a finger sensuously up my slit and then lightly flick my engorged clit, or I would slide the finger and its neighbor into my dripping cunt, but I was deliberately careful not to make myself cum too soon. I wanted to watch him finish and then get myself off when he had gone.

After about five minutes I could see Larry begin to shorten his breathing, and I could even see his balls tighten up and rise up to his scrotum. He closed his eyes and groaned as he shot multiple streams of cum across the concrete floor.

He leaned back against the walls of the shack until his breathing had returned to normal and, just as the day before, he pulled his Speedo back on and quickly left the shower.

Good, now he was gone. I walked over to the bench, intending to sit on it and masturbate as I had yesterday. Instead I lay on my back on the floor with my legs spread obscenely and my feet up on the bench. Then I began finger fucking myself with two, then three, then four fingers, replaying in my mind what I had just watched Larry do. I couldn't believe I was in such a lewd posture. If someone had walked in, there would have been no way to scramble into a decent posture, . . . and I didn't care. The risk of getting caught just added fire to my libido. Oh fuck, I was horny!

As you can imagine I didn't last long. I had one hand frigging my pussy for all it was worth and the other hand madly rubbing my clit. I paused for a moment when I thought I heard a noise against the outside of the shower shack—not at the door but along the back wall. I froze. Oh god! Was someone watching me through the gaping cracks between the boards? Was it Larry? There was nothing more. As I listened to the silence, my fingers were still buried deep in my cunt and pressing down hard on my clit. Finally I decided, "Fuck it. I've got to finish this. I hope the perv enjoys the show." The possibility I was being watched just made it all the hotter.

When, few moments later, I came, it was a stunning orgasm that seemed to last for ever and I made no effort to stifle my scream. Fuck! What an orgasm that was. As I had done the day before, I lay there until my breathing returned to normal, quickly showered and toweled dry, put my beach wrap on over my naked body, grabbed my things, and headed back to the house.

I hadn't really done a very thorough job of toweling myself off. As I approached the house I realized that my wrap had soaked through in places, most critically over my boobs, giving me a bit of a wet T-shirt effect. Larry was sitting in a chair in the shade on the porch, still in his Speedo. My god, how he filled those out! As I walked up the steps toward him, I could feel my nipples stiffen. I looked down and saw that the wet cloth of my wrap was doing very little to disguise my tits. He had a cold beer in one hand and another sitting on the porch decking next to his chair.