by Elizabeth Fitzwilliam
(07/18/07)

Hoping to banish my winter blues, I'd cashed in my frequent flyer miles for a ticket to LA and taken my pasty New England complexion on an impromptu vacation. My first night there I saw a few friends, ate some Mexican and drank a lot of Coronas. The Coronas left me with a fierce hangover the next morning, so, unfit for much else, I headed for the beach.

Only a few people were out, old people taking their constitutionals, Yuppies walking their designer dogs, a few runners along the edge of the water. They were all clearly locals, beautifully bronzed and fit, making me a little embarrassed to uncover myself. But figuring I'd never see any of these people again, I stripped down to my bikini, revealing a soft tummy and my New York pallor.

I spread my towel and made camp, and hastily smearing on some suntan lotion, promptly fell asleep.

Some time later, I have no idea how long, I felt a jab in my shoulder, then another. I opened my eyes and was nearly blinded by the sun. I cupped my hands around my face, and slowly she came into focus.

"You're burning," she said, and dropped down Indian-style onto the sand next to me.

"Excuse me?" Who was this person?

"You're burning. You've been out here too long, probably. And it looks like you haven't seen the sun in awhile."

"Well, that's certainly true." I shook off sleep, sat up and gave my companion the once-over. And over again, because once was not nearly enough.

She was luscious, all sun-streaked hair and swelling breasts. Cut-offs and a white bikini top -- the stuff of my adolescent fantasies, before I even fully understood what two girls could do together. I wanted her and wanted to be her, all at the same time.

She laid the back of her hand against my belly and frowned. "You really did get a bad burn. I can feel the heat in your skin. You could blister."

It took me a minute to answer. "But it doesn't hurt. I don't feel anything." Not entirely true. My clit was starting to throb, and I felt the blood rise in my face. It was all I could do not to lean over and bite her neck.

She looked me directly in the face and said seriously, "Trust me. Unless you take care of this, you're going to be in major pain by tomorrow morning. And if it blisters, you may scar." And she smiled. "You can't be from around here, you're too grumpy."

"I'm from New York."

"That would do it. Don't they teach you about SPFs back East?"

"I think I read that in a personal ad once."

"Well, I can't let you fry. I live a couple of blocks from here. Come home with me and you can get some fresh aloe."

I decided the Sun Goddess was probably right, so I gathered up towel and bag and followed her, staying a couple of steps behind so I could see her ass, hoping she wouldn't notice. Her hips rolled in a very sexy way and her breasts swung loose and free. She was slender but curvy, and even as I lusted after her, I decried the luck of women who can be svelte and voluptuous at the same time.

Her apartment was close by, a tiny studio in a beach house, totally alien to me after years of living with people stacked at least ten floors high. There were books everywhere, clunky textbooks and paperback novels, and an enormous pile of In Style magazines. I was relieved to see a particularly fat advanced economics text (definitely not a 101 course). I'd guessed she was a college student, but was glad to know that she wasn't a freshman. My thoughts might have been dirty...but at least they weren't criminal.

I snapped out of my internal conversation and saw that she was bending over something in the corner, scissors in hand. When she swung around to face me again, I felt sharp regret for not coming West for college. Full on in moderate light, she was painfully beautiful. Did they all look like this?

She held out a handful of green cuttings. Ah, the aloe.

"This stuff has magical properties. You'll be amazed how good you feel when I'm done," she said, pulling a penknife from the top drawer of her nightstand. She flipped it open and with the tiny blade sliced open one of the pieces. Putting the knife down, she stepped in close, too close really, and began rubbing the cool wetness of the aloe directly into my shoulders and over my collarbones, moving gingerly, barely touching the skin. As she leaned in to reach the back of my neck, I could smell her hair and the scent of the beach.

She moved around to my back. I startled as she untied the straps of my bikini top and it dropped to the ground silently. As her hands moved across my back, I could feel her breath moving across the wetness of the aloe. The room suddenly seemed strangely silent, and I realized that I was holding my breath. She was so close that I could feel her breasts against my back, feel her heat. Her hands moved to the sides of my breasts and I let out a gasp. She moved around to face me again, her hands never leaving my body.

Her hands cradled my breasts, thumbs stroking the nipples. "You were on your back when I found you, so I think your front probably got the brunt of the sun. Does it make you uncomfortable when I touch you here?" she asked, seriously, but with an odd expression in her eyes.

I couldn't speak, so I just shook my head. She smiled a tiny smile as she once again stroked the smooth gel into my skin. Slowly, she stepped in closer and I delighted in the crush of her breasts against mine. Her head bent until we were standing cheek to cheek and then her tongue was tickling my ear. Her palms moved down my sides, massaging the soft flesh, kneading it and finally settled on my hips. I felt her fingers move to the small of my back and then slip under my bikini bottoms, grabbing a tight hold of my ass. Her fingers loosened and then found the groove of my ass. I felt them tickling the down there. I pushed my hips into hers, wanting to get even closer, to have every inch of my skin touching her.

She permitted this for a moment, but as I reached out to unfasten her shorts she pushed my hand away. She was in charge.

She pushed me gently onto the pale yellow sheets of the bed and knelt in front of me. She traced wide circles around my nipples with her fingernails. They had already been erect, but now grew almost painfully hard under her skillful pinches. Her mouth began seeking out the hot, salty crevice under my breast, first her tongue and then the nipping of teeth. She moved upward with kisses and soft bites and once again found my nipple. Her hot, wet mouth began to suckle. I pulled at her mass of silky blonde hair, but she shrugged out of my grasp, leaving me once again swollen and unsatisfied.

She told me to lie back. Frustrated, I did as I was told. She pulled off what was left of my bathing suit, asking again, "Do you mind if I touch you here?" I only mind if you don't, I thought, but again just shook my head. She laid her cheek against my belly, and I closed my eyes and felt the coolness of her skin against my burn. Her hair was tickling me.

This was so good -- too good to be believed. I could feel her head rising and falling with my breath. Then it lifted, and there was wetness across my stomach. She spread my legs and asked, "Are you okay with this?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but just pushed my thighs further apart. Again there was the wetness of the aloe mixing with my own wetness. Her fingers were opening my puss. I spread my legs wider and opened my eyes so that I saw the top of her blonde head.

She looked up suddenly and grinned at me, knowing the effect she was having. I had to laugh at her cockiness.

Her fingers stroked the warm wetness of my pussy, and soon I felt them enter me. They moved inside me, stroking, while her thumb massaged my clit. I was soon writhing on the bed, and she laughed and asked again, "Are you okay with this?"

I was okay with anything as long as she went on. I wondered how I could have been concerned about her youth.

I felt my cream sliding out of me, so close to coming, when she suddenly pulled her fingers out, lifted them to my mouth and ordered, "Taste yourself."

I'd barely parted my lips when she pushed two fingers into my mouth, rolling them roughly over my tongue and the soft flesh of my cheek. She pulled them out and brought them to her own mouth, running them over her lips, teasing me until I knew I had to feel her tongue in my mouth. I moved forward to kiss her. But she pulled away again, withholding herself, teasing me, torturing me.

She covered my stomach with butterfly kisses as her hands once again tickled the damp hair of my pussy. She worked me over with her hands, alternating the soft brush of fingertips over my clit with hard knuckle strokes, massaging my pussy with her palm -- talking, talking, using everything but her tongue. I was gasping, grinding my hips into her hands, listening to her coy questions, breathing fast, and finally begging her to please, please make me come. My sounds became undignified as I got more frustrated by the moment.

But she continued to control the pace, laying soft kisses on my inner thighs. Damn! All I needed was her tongue on my clit. She laughed and blew soft breath over my pussy, telling me to cool off, to slow down, whispering that this could be so much better if I'd just wait a bit longer.

But I couldn't wait any longer; tears were rolling down my cheeks. I cried out to her to finish me, finish me! I pled louder and louder: I couldn't finish without her, we'd do it again later, I'd do anything she wanted. Anything.

Perhaps that was what she'd been waiting to hear.

She laughed again, and I felt her long hair caress my belly as her head moved downward. Her tongue barely touched my clit.

...and I was gone, thrusting, exploding, relaxing into the contractions, my heart racing and then slowing.

When I was done, she crawled up onto the bed next to me, smiling with genuine sweetness. I realized suddenly that we'd foregone some basic formalities. As I opened my mouth for her first kiss, I thought, I should ask her name. Next time I want to say her name.

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