Bad Boy

It was the middle of winter when I turned eighteen. It was odd, but during that winter I put on a late growth spurt, gaining at least another inch in height and filling out in various other places. Boy, did I fill out. I moved up several cup sizes in the boobs department. I'd always had breasts that could be kindly described as on the smallish side. Suddenly I had to adjust to breasts that were medium-large, leaning towards the large.

It was quite a confidence booster, even if no-one noticed. I mean, winter, and all that, going around buried in layers of clothing, trying to keep warm. Anyone who noticed an increase in the area of my chest probably sniggered and thought I had added some padding. Well, I had, but it was all natural.

When spring came, bringing some warmer weather with it, I was able to start wearing a few nicer outfits when I was out and about. Actually, I had to start buying the outfits. Most of my lighter clothes were now too small. I know, any excuse for a shopping spree, but it was true.

I was waiting for some really hot weather before venturing out to the local beach in a bikini. A new bikini, courtesy of my father. He saw me in my old one and almost had a heart attack. No daughter of his was going to the beach in that outfit I was told in no uncertain terms. I explained that I'd out-grown it and didn't have the cash for a new one, and just like that I had the cash in hand.

On one Sunday in the middle of spring it was what you would describe as warmish. Not hot enough to go out and try to get a tan, but definitely warm enough to go for a stroll along the beach in an outfit that might be described as a bit on the skimpy side.

What the outfit consisted of was some old clothes that had met a terrible fate at the hands of scissors wielded by a fashion expert - me. I'd taken an old sloppy t-shirt, sloppy for my pre-boobs time, that is, and cut away the bottom half. Maybe the bottom two thirds. Now when I put it on it almost covered my breasts, giving this tantalising glimpse of under-boob. Any boys I met would be looking at me and wondering if I had a bra on under that cut-off t-shirt, trying to drill holes through the material with their eyes. (The answer was no, I didn't. My breasts were high and firm and stayed where they were supposed to. Any sagging was a problem for the future.)

My shorts weren't much better. They were an old pair of jeans cut down to Daisy Dukes. Rather tight Daisy Dukes. I'd run into a problem when I was making those. It seems that my, ah, let's say my hips, had filled out a bit as well as my chest. I had to slice up the sides of my newly fashioned Daisy Dukes before I could actually get them on.

Now while the outfit might be described as a heart-attack for Daddy, I thought I looked cute. If there were any boys on the beach, their heads would turn so fast their necks would crack. This stroll along the beach was going to be fun.

My stroll along the beach started out as a bit of a disappointment. There was no-one there. Hell, if I was brave enough to come out when it was only warmish, you'd think some of the boys would be there on the off chance. Then my disappointing walk looked as though it might upgrade itself to a disaster.

There was a boy on the beach. Man, really, as he was several years older than me. It was Blasted Brian. That's how I always thought of him. His very presence can get me hot under the collar. He's always making snide comments and putting me down. A loathsome creature and a bad influence on ell the other men around the place. For some reason most girls seem drawn to his chauvinistic attitude, but not me.

I marched on down the beach, quickening my pace a little. With a bit of luck he'd just ignore me. It didn't take me long to realise that he wasn't going to. He'd already changed direction and was going to intercept me. It figured. If it wasn't for the bad luck I wouldn't have any luck at all.

"Cathy," he said cheerfully. "Well met. How are things going?"

"Hullo, Brian," I said coolly, hoping he'd get the hint that he wasn't wanted. "Things are fine."

"That's nice to hear. I see you're still wearing your padded bras."

Bastard. I was so not wearing a padded bra and it should have been obvious. I stopped and glared at him.

"I have no need to wear padding," I said repressively. "If you're just going to insult me, please go away."

"No padding?" he asked dubiously.

"No. What? Do you want to check?"

As soon as I said that I knew I shouldn't have. I could (and should) have bitten my tongue.

"That's an excellent idea," he said, and he sounded like a cat purring.

Before I could react he just lifted the front of my top up, pushing it to the top of my breasts. Just like that my breasts were on display.

"Stop that," I hissed at him, while I quickly brushed my top back down. "I have no desire to show off my breasts in public, thank you very much."

"You stop it," he said, lifting the top up again. "There's just you and me here so we're hardly in public."

This time when I went to brush my top down, he caught my wrist.

"I said, leave it," he said. "You have very nice breasts and I'll concede no padding. Where did you get those from? Falsies, by any chance?"

To my fury he started softly probing my breasts, checking for implants. The absolute gall of the man. It was enough to vex anyone.

"No, they are not falsies," I flared at him. "It's all me, so will you kindly stop poking them."

I really need to be more careful of what I say to Blasted Brian. He has a genius for seeing things his way. What I should have said was stop touching them. He stopped probing them with a finger and cupped them with his hands, gently bouncing them as though weighing them.

"You know, you really do have a lovely pair of breasts," he murmured, and, despite not liking him, I couldn't help but be flattered. It was balm to my wounded soul to hear him admit that my breasts were nice.

He took a step back and looked me over. I mean, he really looked at me.

"Nice," he said softly. "Very nice indeed. You've slimmed down over the last few months. Or perhaps," he added, eyes on my breasts, "I should say you've redistributed the weight in a way that does you credit."

He was right about the weight. Even though I was taller and, shall we say, more shapely, my total weight hadn't really changed. My puppy fat had gone, balancing out the increase in size in certain areas.

With him standing back a bit and giving me the once over it suddenly occurred to me that my boobs were still on display, which was not my intention when I made this top. Tantalize and tease, not flaunt, had been my aim. Hastily I reached up and tugged the top down into position.

Brian seemed to give this little growl and moved closer.

"I told you to leave it," he reprimanded me. "I like looking at them."

That comment did funny thing inside me. I felt indignation that he would presume to think that he had a right to look at my breasts, together with a flutter of excitement for exactly the same reason. This was the first time Brian had seemed to approve of anything about me. But still, there was a principle involved.

"Brian, it is not my intention to stand around on the beach with my breasts out just because you like looking at them," I told him acerbically. "In case you don't know it, it is not the sort of behaviour young women are expected to indulge in."

My comments may have been more effective if Brian hadn't been cupping my breasts again. This time he was also rolling my nipples around with his thumbs.

"Ah, Brian, will you please stop doing that?" I asked him, trying to keep it polite.

"Why?" he asked, his voice purring again, sending little shivers up my back. "You like it. Your breasts like it."

"That's beside the point," I said, and I could hear stress in my voice now. "You're not supposed to do this sort of thing in public. Or in private, if it's me you're doing it to."

"Picky, picky," he muttered, but at least he moved his hands off my breasts. I hadn't known when I was well off.

He slipped his arms around me and pulled me up against him. He was wearing a button up shirt which he hadn't bothered to button. When he pulled me to him my breasts were plastered against his chest. A very hairy chest, I might add. It was a very strange feeling, having my breasts rub against a man's chest like that.

To make things worse, he kissed me. He took me totally by surprise, me never imagining in a million years that Blasted Brian would kiss me like that. He covered my mouth and slipped his tongue between my lips before I knew he was even thinking of kissing me. That was another new one for me, feeling his tongue tracing along the insides of my lips and exploring my mouth.

His hands settled on my bottom, holding me close to him. This gave me two more problems. One, he actually had his hands on my bottom. I thought I was doing good to get my bum into those shorts, and somehow he got his hands in there as well. Number two, and far more disconcerting, I could feel his, um, his, ah, let's say his personal equipment pressing against me. And the way it was pressing against me I knew the sort of state it was in.

I felt like panicking for a moment, but I didn't. I got my hands up against his chest and pushed firmly, trying to get a bit of space between us. Fortunately, he let me, and I eased back a little. Unfortunately, he only gave me so much room and no more, and although I wasn't squashed against him, the tips of my breasts were still brushing against his chest. I was ever so much aware about how my breasts were just touching his chest. Every breath he took caused his hairy chest to tease my nipples, keeping them in a state of arousal.

At least, he'd taken his hands off my behind. I could feel them moving between our bodies, and I assumed that he was making himself a little more comfortable. If he had an erection it must be painful, crushed inside tight shorts. I imagined that he was just adjusting its position, but even thinking of what he was doing made me blush and feel funny.

Little innocent me had no idea what he was really doing. I was still trying to create a little more space between us when I felt his hands on my hips, sliding under the waistband of my Daisy Dukes again. I thought he was going to start fondling my bottom again, and I was half right.

He apparently wanted to fondle my bottom after he'd pushed my shorts and panties out of the way. When I thought he was adjusting his own clothing he had really been undoing my button and zip and I'd had too many distractions to notice. Now his hands pushed down and my shorts were only too ready to go along with his wishes.

His hands were now really on a bare bottom, as now my bottom was actually bare, and he was pulling me closer again. That's when I found out I'd made another wrong assumption. He hadn't just been adjusting his short to cater for his blasted erection. He'd been dropping them. Now when I found myself plastered against him I could feel his erection pressing against my tummy.

I hastily slipped a hand down, inserting it between his erection and me. Brian just paused in his general touching of me to give me some advice.

"Not like that," he said. "Like this."

His hand reached down and turned my hand around so that his erection was pressing against my palm. Brian closed my fingers over it and his own hand went back to where he was stroking my bottom.

I'm sure you'll understand that I had to hang onto him. While I was holding him I knew just where his cock was, and that at least was a plus. It felt hot, and hard, and heavy, and anything that big could do damage if allowed to just swing loose. Far better for me to just hang on.

I was starting to think that the way Brian's chest kept brushing against my breasts was deliberate. As a matter of fact I was damned positive that it was, but how do you tell someone to stop doing something like that. I didn't even seem to be getting the message across that I would prefer to have my clothes on, thank you very much.

Speaking of keeping my clothes on, every time I twisted about I could feel my shorts slipping further down my legs, and I seemed to be doing a lot of squirming. After a while they were around my ankles and I had no choice but to kick one ankle free before they tripped me. Fancy finding myself falling with Brian there? He'd be sure to take some sort of unfair advantage.

I could trust Brian, though. He didn't need me to fall to take advantage. His hands went creeping down over my bottom, rubbing my cheeks quite firmly as they moved. I was considering them a minor problem. What could he do groping my bum? More than I knew, it turned out.

His hands just kept following the curves of my buttocks, and I slowly came to the conclusion that Brian had arms like a gorilla. They just kept on reaching down and around and my eyes were very wide when one settled on my mound. I hadn't dreamed he could reach that far.

I managed to squawk a protest, telling him he was getting a damn sight too familiar, and he laughed. His hands centred themselves just under my buttocks, cupping them, and then he lifted. Just like that he picked me up, took a couple of steps and swung me around and down, laying me on the grass beside the beach.

With me flat on my back, Brian bent over me and his mouth captured a breast, sucking lightly on the nipple. At the same time his hand drifted over my body and settled on my mound, and there was no hesitation as he started to rub me there. I was so shocked that I very nearly let go of his cock, which I was still holding, just to keep it away from me, you understand.

With my free hand I tried to push Brian's head away from my breast. I had great success. It travelled all the way over to my other breast and he started working on my other nipple.

"Brian, enough," I wailed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He lifted his head and looked at me.

"I'm seducing you," he said calmly, "and you seem to be enjoying it."

"You're molesting me," I returned. "What makes you think I'm enjoying it?"

"I'd tell you, but it might embarrass you. Do you really want me to tell you?"

You know, suddenly I didn't want him to tell me. I mean, he might have misinterpreted a few things, like the fact that I'd kissed him back and the fact that I was still holding his cock. Little things like that. I was only trying to defend myself but I'll admit my actions could be misinterpreted. Watching him slowly rubbing my nipple I had to admit other body signals might be misinterpreted as well. Best to keep my mouth shut about those things.

"Um, I want you to stop," I told him, speaking firmly, which surprised me.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes. Why do you want me to stop?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Obviously not to me or I wouldn't be asking."

"I just don't want you to seduce me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't!"

"Have you ever been seduced before?"

"No!" This was said with quite a bit of indignation.

"Well, how do you know you don't want me to seduce you? After all, you have to be seduced at some stage. Why not here and now?"

"Well for a start, we're in public. Anyone could see us."

I got a scornful look for that reply and almost squirmed in embarrassment. As far as I could tell we had been the only two people on the beach, and even if someone else was there now, we were safely hidden in the dunes and grass.

"But you don't even like me," I pointed out.

"If I didn't like you I wouldn't bother to tease you," he countered. "I'd just ignore you. You can't say I've ever ignored you, now can you. And I'm certainly not ignoring you now."

I almost screamed at that point because his hand was still playing with my pussy and he'd slipped a finger between my lips and pressed what proved to be a very sensitive spot.

"Just relax and see how things go," said Brian. "You have to have a first time some time. It's a nice day, you have the sun and the sea and the grass for a bed. Just go with the flow for a while. You can always call a halt later, you know."

Speaking softly and sounding, oh, so reasonable, I found I could almost believe him. But I wasn't completely naïve. He was a man and would say anything he thought appropriate to have sex, and he seemed pretty determined on having sex with me. If I didn't stop him now my chances of stopping him later were probably around zero or less.

The problem was, I was excited. Brian liked my body, and he'd aroused me. And he was aroused, too. The evidence of that was held firmly in my hand. Truth be known, I was protesting because I was supposed to protest, not because I wanted him to stop.

"If I say stop later, you'll stop?" I asked, knowing his answer and knowing it was probably a lie.

"Of course," he said, deflecting any more questions by leaning down and biting on a nipple. I allowed myself to be distracted.

I was right about one thing. I wasn't even going to get another chance at stopping him. Brian seemed satisfied that I was ready for him and he was moving my legs even further apart. He finally pulled his cock loose from my grasp, moving to kneel between my nicely spread legs.

Watching him positioning himself, it dawned on me that if I'd really wanted to stop him I'd blown my chance. Hanging onto him the way I'd been doing I could easily have massaged his cock until he came. Instead of that I'd just clung onto it, feeling it, just wanting to hold it. Too late now, of course. The thing was looking at me with evil intent.

Brian started slowly, rubbing his cock back and forth along my lips. I could see the head of it was glistening with moisture, and idly wondered if the dampness had come from me or was naturally his. Not that it made much difference.

He stopped the rubbing and started pressing. I found it hard to believe that I was lying there, watching Brian pushing his cock into me. I gasped as I felt it moving into me, watching in slight shock as I saw my lips close around him. Now I was getting really nervous.

I was a virgin and would remain one until that cock hit my hymen. Then it would be pop goes the cherry and goodbye virginity. And, I had a nasty suspicion, hullo pain. I looked up at Brian to find him watching me. He must have read the worry on my face.

"Not much we can do at this stage but hope for the best," he said quietly. "Bite on your hand. It might help."

I'd bite on his bloody hand if he was being patronising. He sounded sincere, so I didn't. I just gritted my teeth and waited and felt scared.

There was a feeling of pressure down there, and then something gave and it damn well did hurt, and I gave a sharp little cry.

"Damn you, Brian," I wailed. "That hurt."

"But it's done now," he said softly. "That's behind you. Relax and let's see how things go."

That was surprisingly easy to do. Pain is always forgotten as soon as it passes, and that one passed quite quickly. What wasn't passing was the feeling of his cock sliding along my passage. That was a feeling totally new in my experience. The point was, did I like that feeling or not?

I did, I decided. It was different and it was interesting and it was exciting. I could feel him stretching me, which felt strange, but didn't hurt. The actually rubbing of his cock against my passage was something else. That was drawing and holding my attention.

I gave a gasp when his groin bumped into me, letting me know that he was finally fully in me. I was surprised that I could actually take him so easily. Now I was lying there, feeling him fully in me. My eyes were wide, staring up at him.

He was smiling down at me.

"That better?" he asked, laughing when I nodded with enthusiasm. "Then let's see if we can improve on it."

With that he started moving his cock. He pulled it slowly back and pushed it in again, and all those lovely feeling came rushing over me again. And again, as he kept on doing it.