My bikini was too small at the beach...

I should’ve worn something else.

That much was obvious.

Only it hadn’t been obvious when I’d picked it out that morning, sifting through a drawer packed with slutty underwear and provocative nightwear. Compared to some of that stuff, the bikini was positively tame. Only, standing next to Josh on the hot sand, it suddenly seemed anything but. It hugged me tightly beneath my clothes, and the thought of stripping down out of my towel in front of him made me feel a little weird.

Not that I needed to worry; he didn’t think of me that way.

Like, at all.

We’d driven to the beach on a whim, a rare occasion when it was just the two of us, away from the rest of the group. Josh was one of my oldest and closest friends, but nowadays it sometimes felt as if we hardly spoke, all that boring Life Stuff getting in the way. I looked around the beach and smiled, pretending I wasn’t comparing every other girl’s bikini to mine.

“Aren't you going to get changed?” Josh said, taking off his T-shirt and pants and revealing a pair of swim shorts. I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out. He’d stripped off like it was nothing, his body catching the sunlight. I looked away.

Since when did Josh look like *that*?

“What’s up?” he asked, watching me look at him. He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Like what you see, you ya?”

He laughed and I felt myself flush red.

“No, I uhh…I just...thought I left my water bottle in the car.”

We’d both seen me put it in the bag. Josh raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. He sat down on the towel and stretched out his legs facing the ocean. His back was smooth, golden already.

I peeled the dress off in one quick motion.

It was worse than I remembered.

The bikini was tiny. Obscenely so. The top barely contained me; two little triangles of black fabric straining against the swell of my chest, the strings biting lightly into my skin. My boobs were too big for this. They pushed up and out over the cups like they were trying to escape, soft and flushed from the heat, threatening a wardrobe malfunction. I crossed my arms automatically, then dropped them again, realising that just made it worse, my tits bulging over my forearms. I glanced around at the other women on the beach, trying to reassure myself. But none of them looked quite like this. Not bulging, like I was. Not barely held together.

The bottoms barely covered my pussy.

Josh was fiddling with something in the cooler and I sat down beside him on the towel. He turned to me, his expression faltering as he saw my bikini.

I smiled, raising an eyebrow back at him. “Maybe I’m not the only one who likes what they see?” I joked.

Josh scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah…I guess I left my water bottle in the car, too.”

I laughed, turning slightly onto my side, adjusting the towel beneath me so that my body angled just a little toward him. The fabric of the top tugged tighter. I felt it shift against my skin, that sensation of warmth and friction on my nipples, the slight ache in my breasts from being held in too firmly.

Was I…enjoying this?

Enjoying Josh’s attention?

Weird.

“You bring sunscreen?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. He passed it over, fingers brushing mine.

I squeezed some into my palm and rubbed it across my thighs—slow, unhurried, letting my hands glide over the skin in long, lazy strokes. The lotion was cool at first, then warm. I moved up over my stomach, my sides, then reached back to undo the tie behind my neck. The top fell a little, not off, but looser—just enough that it barely held.

I rubbed the sunscreen into my cleavage, wondering if he was watching from behind his sunglasses. For some reason, I kinda hoped he was…

“Do you want some?” I asked, voice as casual as I could manage.

“Sure,” he said after a beat. “Back of my shoulders, maybe.”

I nodded, sitting up, legs folded beneath me. I straddled my towel and leaned toward him, rubbing lotion between my palms before placing them on his skin, warm, broad, and slightly damp with sweat. My fingers slid over the tops of his shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly into the muscle.

He let out a breath, low and deep, and tipped his head forward to let me in. For a while, we were quiet. The noise of the beach carried on around us as I massaged the lotion into him.

Josh cleared his throat. “So. You still seeing that guy. The musician?”

“Oh. No. That was a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

I shrugged. “Who cares. I’m over it.” I handed him the bottle of sunscreen. “Anyway, you gonna return the favour?”

I lay forward on my towel and tugged my hair to one side. The strings of my bikini were already loose from earlier, just crisscrossed over the back of my neck and resting there. I felt the cool lotion dribble just between my shoulder blades, then his palms, broad and warm, smoothing it over my back in slow circles. He pressed down a little harder, thumbs tracing the ridge of my spine, knuckles brushing the sides of my chest.

“Wow,” I murmured, face down, cheek pressed to my arm. “You’re kinda great at this…”

“Thanks…”

He kept going; over my shoulders, down to my lower back, hands gliding with that slow, sure pressure that made me melt a little more with each stroke. My skin tingled. My brain felt fuzzy.

But it was fine. Just a massage. Totally platonic.

I was just warm and stretched out and—

His thumbs dipped low, just to the waistband of my bottoms, and I felt a spark of…something. Something hot. My nipples grazed towel as I adjusted slightly, a soft friction that made my thighs squeeze together.

I shouldn’t have felt turned on.

This was Josh.

Josh, who…

My body didn’t care.

My pussy didn’t care.

I shifted, barely cognisant of what I was doing, guided by something more primal than rational thought, and rolled onto my back. The sunlight hit me fully now. My breasts were bare, soft and flushed and still glistening slightly from the lotion. I stretched just a little—arms overhead, chest arching slightly, like it was no big deal.

Josh blinked at me, his mouth half open. Then he quickly looked down.

“Can you get the front too?” I asked, as innocently as I could manage. “I really don’t want to burn my nipples.”

There was a pause.

Then the sound of the sunscreen cap flipping open.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sure.”

His hands were warm again. Careful. Tentative as he started at my collarbones, smoothing lotion over the tops of my shoulders, then slowly—so slowly—over the swell of my chest.

He avoided my nipples.

At first.

But the longer he lingered, the more I could feel his breath start to quicken. The more deliberate the strokes became. Slower. Lower. My nipples tightened under his hands, hard and obvious and absolutely not from the breeze. His thumbs brushed the sides of each nipple, feather-light at first, like testing the water.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

He circled them once. Twice. A teasing spiral, deliberate, maddening. Then the flat of his palms passed over them fully—too gentle to be accidental, too precise to be innocent. The friction sent a bolt of heat through my stomach.

My thighs pressed together again. I couldn’t help it.

Still, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at me. Just focused on my chest like it was a task he needed to finish perfectly.

His thumbs returned, slower this time, and dragged softly over each nipple in turn. They were so hard now it hurt, aching with the want of more pressure. My breath came out shaky.

He must’ve heard that. He paused.

I didn’t stop him.

He rubbed each one now with a quiet, focused rhythm, thumbs circling and brushing with care. I shivered, and the sound I made was embarrassingly submissive.

I wondered if my bikini bottoms had a wet patch.

If they did, I kinda wanted him to see. I was departing opening my legs when his hands slowed.

Then lifted.

I stayed still, heart hammering, eyes closed, trying to pull myself back from whatever edge I’d been drifting toward.He cleared his throat again–awkward, rough—and wiped his hands on his own towel before passing the bottle back.

“All done,” he said. Voice strained. Careful.

“Yeah,” I murmured, pretending to stretch, just wanting him to see my tits one more time, watching him to watch me, to take me in. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said.

I sat up, wrapped my arms around my knees, and let the sun warm my face. Josh said something about the waves being good today. I nodded. Said maybe we’d go in later. I guess things were back to normal, but as I leaned back on my elbows and closed my eyes against the sun, I wondered—

Was he going to touch himself tonight?

Was he going to stroke his cock and think of me?

Was he going to make himself cum remembering the moment his fingers explored his best friend's body for the first time, doing everything in his power not to slide lower and spread her pussy lips while she licked her lips and sighed with pleasure?

Because I did...