It was a perfect day at the beach: The sun was scorching down on the white sand. The steady onshore wind took the edge of the heat. The breeze rippled the teal ocean and topped the waves with white patches of surf. Sunshades, towels and beachgoers in their colourful, skimpy outfits tinged the wide stretch of sand. A steady murmur of the waves crashing on the beach, the people’s voices and music from smartphone speakers and beach bars provided the sonic backdrop to this almost stereotypical scene of beach life.

Charlotte was completely oblivious to her surroundings, though. She had her nose in a book – which was a common thing for the 16 year old. Lying face down on her towel, propped up on her elbows, she was completely immersed in the world her paperback novel had created. It was a cheesy story, to be honest, but she enjoyed this kind of lowbrow literature: A mobster had kidnapped a rival’s daughter and kept her hostage in the basement of his mansion. Showing signs of a sexual subspecies of Stockholm syndrome, the young woman’s repulsion of the brute soon turned into fascination and, only a little later, arousal for being held captive, degraded, and forced sexual encounters.

Not exactly Nobel Prize material, but the story ticked several boxes for Charlotte. In the privacy of her own bedroom, she’d have had a hand between her thighs for a while now. The absent-minded caresses of her girly bits would have turned into harsh fingering and finally into a masturbatory frenzy until her arousal exploded in an orgasm that would have been very vocal, hadn’t she pressed her face into her pillow to muffle her outbursts of pleasure, hoping her family won’t notice.

Here, however, she was on a public beach. Next to her, her sister Cara, five years her senior, was constantly tapping on her phone, probably texting with her boyfriend. Two steps away, her parents were ignoring each other: Her dad had his hat over his face, dozing off. Her mum was looking out across the water, sipping a soft drink.

Charlotte found it harder and harder to ignore the tingle inside her bikini bottoms. From time to time, she rocked her hips, causing her perfectly peach-shaped ass cheeks, less than half covered by her black bikini, to wiggle in the sun.

Just as she was reading an especially saucy scene where the mobster spanked the damsel in distress with his belt (for no apparent plot-related reason), Charlotte was jolted out of her naughty fantasies. A volleyball hit the ground only an arm’s length away from her, splashing sand into her face. She looked up annoyed when a boy, about eighteen, ran after the ball.

Sorry, babe," he said as he picked it up and winked at her. Charlotte just rolled her eyes. The boy returned to his mates, who were loudly talking about boyish things while continuing their ball game.

The damage had been done though. The astray volleyball had torn Charlotte out of her fantasy world. She became aware how painfully real her horniness was. With a frustrated sigh, she got up and sat cross-legged on her towel. She could explain her flushed face and cleavage with the sun, but what about the rest of her body? Her hard nipples were straining the fabric of her bikini top. Even more embarrassing was the very obvious damp spot in the crotch of her bottoms.

Charlotte knew she had to do something about it. She wanted to relief herself so much, but that was out of the question right here, right now. She could have walked over to the volleyball boys, as she was sure the ball didn’t impact the sand close to her by accident. But she wasn’t the straightforward type and a date for the weekend wasn’t the kind of immediate remedy she needed.

Pondering her limited options, she decided to take the beach equivalent to a cold shower. “Hey, I’m going for a swim”, she addressed her folks. Her sister just nodded, not taking her eyes off her phone. Her dad was snoring quietly. Her mum looked up, a bit puzzled, and replied, “OK, sweetie. Be careful!”

Charlotte put her sunglasses and her book with the embossed golden letters on the cover in her bag and got up. After adjusting her bikini bottoms (one half had slid into her butt crack), she jogged towards the waterline, navigating through the beachgoers, trying not to kick sand at them. She wanted to dip into the sea as soon as possible.

Her wavy, black hair was flowing over her shoulders and back, her D cup tits jiggled inside her bikini, her ass was swaying from left to right and back. When the tail of the surf splashed against her feet, she didn’t stop to get used to the cold water, but continued running until the water lapped at her thighs. Then she jumped into the approaching wave, dove and swam a few strokes underwater.

When she returned to the surface, she treaded water, took a deep breath and wiped her wet hair out of her face. The water felt soothingly cool on her tanned skin. At least now nobody would be surprised by her stiff nipples and wet bottoms. That was a relief. There was no relief for her arousal, however. She was still horny as hell.

“Fuck”, she cursed under her breath. Yes, that would have helped. But Charlotte had never been fucked and she didn’t have anybody to change that in the foreseeable future.

Sure, with her looks, she could easily find boys to date. However, making out during a movie or thirty seconds of fucking in a dimly lit car park were not what she was looking forward to. She wanted something meaningful, something that touched her deep inside. She wasn’t exactly sure what was deep inside her, but it certainly wasn’t what the other girls at school talked about when they shared their experiences with their dates or boyfriends.

Those were the thoughts she was lost in when she was suddenly underwater again. She hadn’t noticed the wave that was rolling in. She flailed about underwater while the surf pulled her towards the beach. After a few moments that seemed much longer to her than they actually were, her feet found the ground. She stood up and realized the water was only waist-deep here. Splash! Another wave hit her from the side before could fully orientate herself. The current dragged her over the sand. When she regained control again, the water only played around her knees.

She coughed, her hands on her knees. After spitting out some salt water, she straightened up and wiped her eyes. Charlotte looked around and saw her family not far away from where she had been washed ashore like driftwood. After throwing her hair back over her shoulders, she looked down at herself and suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time. The waves had rearranged her bikini. Her left nipple, still erect from her hot thoughts and the cold water, was fully exposed while her right tit was about to slip out of her top.

She quickly put her tits back inside the soaked bikini and walked a few steps up the beach. When she was at the line where the waves only licked at the beach, she sat down in the sand and tried to get herself together again. Had anybody noticed her tits popping out? The beach and the water were pretty crowded.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”, she cursed again. Couldn’t she at least have been in danger instead of just making a fool of herself in some kiddy level waves? Being rescued by a muscular lifeguard? An adult taking responsibility, putting her safety before his own?

“I’d have shown him my tits anytime,” she thought.

Teenage hormones have superpowers. So Charlotte was back to having naughty thoughts again in no time. Sketching her own story in her head, she suddenly had a weird feeling in her lower body. She was still sitting in the sand, her knees pulled up and her legs spread. She looked between her thighs and froze. The surf had not only messed with her top. Her bottoms had been pulled to the side, completely exposing her pussy. She stared down at herself in shock. Her puffy outer labia, the protruding folds of her inner lips, her clit that was cheekily peeking out of its hood – everything was out in the open.

Her mind went blank. She was presenting her most intimate parts to the world. Well, to the beach. But that was something, too. She looked around. Nobody seemed to give her any weird looks. At least none that a buxom teenager with a pretty face wasn’t used to.

“But what if…”, Charlotte thought. That thought did something weird to her. On the one hand, she was terrified. You weren’t supposed to have your private parts out in public. On the other hand, she felt like all of the blood in her body went to her pussy. Anybody around might notice her nakedness at any time. She was shocked by herself: She seemed to enjoy that anticipation.

“Hey, it’s not my fault. I almost drowned. Glad I’m still alive. Why care about flashing the beach?”  Charlotte’s thoughts were as chaotic as a storm-tossed ocean. However, in that chaos, another thought materialized: “This feels… really good”, Charlotte realized.

Did she want to be seen? Charlotte didn’t know.

All she knew was that it felt good what she was doing right now – the dare, the danger, the kinkiness.

She wasn’t comfortable with showing her pussy in public, but she was a very curious girl. A horny one, too. So she dared to venture further and spread her legs a little wider. Her pussy lips parted slightly. Charlotte looked around nervously. She couldn’t tell if anybody noticed that this pretty and well-built teenager was displaying herself. That dad over there? No, he had trouble chasing his kids. The three boys in the water? No, they were busy ducking each other. The thirty-something woman next to her? She obviously couldn’t see anything against the sun.

She looked down again. The ocean had washed a bit of sand against her vagina. The sun was shining brightly on her pussy. Anybody who took a closer look would be able to see every detail. How would people react if they noticed? Would they be turned on? Harass her? Try to chat her up? Watch in silence? Call her out? Be offended? Charlotte knew that she was very wet, but she couldn’t tell if the liquid coating her labia was seawater or pussy juice. Probably both.

Charlotte thought about running a finger or two over her labia. She wanted to know how it would feel to be doing something in public that she had only done in her bedroom. But she decided against it. She didn’t want to ruin the view by putting her hand between her legs and she was afraid her facial expression or vocal utterings would give her away if she started playing with herself. She sat like that for a few minutes. Her pussy felt like it was a fountain. “As soon as I get home…” – Charlotte didn’t need to finish the thought.

Just as she couldn’t take it anymore and needed to touch herself, she heard a familiar voice. “Charlotte!” It was her mum. “Are you coming, young lady? We’re going home!”

Charlotte jumped up and almost forgot to pull her bikini bottoms over her soaked pussy. She ran back to her family. They had already packed and were waiting impatiently.

Dizzy in the head and gushing between her legs, Charlotte pulled her denim shorts out of her bag, stuffed her towel into it and slid into her flip-flops. Her mum scolded her on the short walk to the car: “I called you three times. What were you thinking over there, Charlotte?”

The girl just shrugged. “Nothing special, Ma," Charlotte replied as she climbed into the backseat. She couldn’t wait to get home.