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Subject: Title story: "Fun in the Sun" Author: Mirage 79713622
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Date: Thu, 06 Jul 2006 18:43:47 +0000
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Fun in the Sun
A nice, inoffensive story of consentual adult sex with the slightest thrill of
exhibitionism. It may be too mild for some, but it shouldn't be to shocking for
anybody who reads this newsgroup. If it is, BFD!
I can't believe I have time to relax! I'm sitting here in the sun, in a tank top
and shorts, feeling those nasty ultraviolet rays warming my skin. Skin cancer?
No way! I don't spend enough time out here to be at risk. I wonder if I'm even
out enough to maintain my vitamin D levels!
Mmmm. It feels so good!
I close my eyes from my book and tilt my face up to the sun.
I can hear you walk up quietly, but I don't react. What will it be? I know you
well enough to expect a "sneak attack." Why do guys do this? (Well, I guess I'm
guilty on occasion myself.) Just when I'm relaxed, reclined, letting the world
disappear, somebody insists on tickling me or dropping ice down my back! With a
mental sigh, I brace myself.
Ah, yes. Of course. Ice - on my chest (because my back is against the lounger).
You expect me to jump or scream, but I don't. I won't. Instead ...
"Mmmm ... feels good."
Actually, it _does_ feel good the cool, wet ice against my baking skin. As it
melts (quickly) and trickles down my cleavage, I shade my eyes with my hand to
look at you, as though I'm not sure who you are.
"Oh, hi! It's just you." I say with a smirk. "I thought it was my other lover."
(Oh how I love to tease you!)
"What `other' lover?" you demand playfully, as you run the shrinking ice cube
across my chest with your finger. The cold wetness has caused my nipples to
harden, quite obvious through the thin, soft cotton of my top.
"You know ...," I chide, "My other lover who does _nice_ things for me."
"Oh REALLY? Who is this guy?"
My top is getting very wet from my sweat and the melting ice. A sudden breeze
blows across me, causing me to shiver involuntarily. I see your eyes sparkle
with delight as you watch my breasts jiggle and my nipples grow even harder.
"BRR! Now I'm cold!" I fib, scowling, but enjoying your pleasure to my body's
reactions. I sit up, placing my feet on either side of the lounger to rise, but
you sit near the foot of the chair, sideways to me, placing your hand on my bare
thigh to keep me seated.
I watch your face, your eyes, as you appraise me - my tank top rolled up to my
breasts, my cut-off jeans unzipped and opened to allow the sun to touch as much
of me as possible without actually digging out a bikini. These are my SHORT
shorts. I don't wear them in public. Sitting as I am, I know without looking
that my bush is quite visible between my thighs, the denim hiding only the
pinkness of my sex. I never wear panties with these shorts - that would be a
contradiction! This is the first time you've seen them.
I knew you would enjoy this view, and your expression and straining shorts
verify that fact. After a significant pause, during which I pretend not to
notice you staring at my body, you close your mouth, recompose your face and
look up to my eyes.
"What `other' lover?" you repeat. "I'm nice to you."
I grin at you like the imp that I am and reply,
"You're not my `nice' lover, you're my `nasty' lover!"
"Is that so? What's the difference between nice and nasty here?"
"Well, while you try to shock me by putting ice down my pants, or tickling me,
my `nice' lover would cool me when I'm hot and caress me with gentle touches."
"Hmph! You _like_ having ice on your skin?"
I nod as you reach into the tumbler of iced tea you're holding and fish out
another piece of ice. I can feel my crotch start to warm with anticipation.
Playing the game, though, I try to change the subject....
"So, how was your ride? How far did you get?" I ask as you begin tracing the top
curve of my breasts above the fabric with the ice.
"Not more than 10 or 12 miles. Dave's bike got a flat and we didn't have a
spare." You have some trouble keeping your voice even as your eyes watch my
breasts twitch from the cold. My top is now soaked down to my nipples and the
cloth clings tightly to my skin. Another breeze passes and a delicious shiver
runs through me, so I lay back to steady myself, not really meaning to pull away
from your hand.
"Is there any place else you need to be `cooled'?" You ask as you retrieve
another ice cube.
I just shrug casually, but I watch intently as you bring your hand toward my
abdomen. As the first drops of water hit my skin, I gasp slightly, but I want to
feel it - where will you touch it? Meanwhile, further `south' I can feel
increasing warmth and swelling.
You take your time, letting drops fall to my skin. The water begins to pool at
my navel, then rivulets roll down my side. I close my eyes and enjoy the
delicate tickle of the cool drops, as you guide them downward. Then ... I feel a
light touch ...
Involuntarily, I jump, but with pleasure, not shock. I realize it's not ice I
feel ... cold, but ...
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