One piece swimsuit

For years I'd wondered whether I led a sheltered life. Most of the time, I was happy. It was only when we travelled that I saw other families, and other women my age. Between my sophomore and junior year of college, my parents took my sisters and I to Hawaii. Nine days on the south shore of Kauai. They allowed us to bring four swimsuits each and they all had to be one-pieces. Modesty is a big thing in the Mormon church. We didn't want men staring.

But I noticed quickly, whether they saw my belly button or not, men would stare anyway. I caught many guys watching, even married men. I was twenty, and I'd just figured out how the world truly was.

I didn't mind some of the guys looking. I didn't think it was evil. It felt more like a compliment, an appreciation.

The four of us, all blonde, sat together with our parents. Every one of us had a book. I had a thrill that I'd snuck something by my parents. They didn't realize the book I was reading was actually a genre I'd seen on social media, spicy romance. The cover gave nothing away. It looked like a cute love story but inside were words I'd never said out loud. Even thinking about writing those words now makes my chest feel tight but I'm going to do it.

Breasts, nipples, clit, cock, come (in the context of orgasm), these were things we just didn't acknowledge. Yet, reading about a man and a woman falling for one another and using these words, made me feel certain things. Normally I'd only experienced such feelings in dreams that I woke from with a sense of shame.

Mid-vacation, I was lying on my beach towel in a monochrome persimmon swimsuit, nearing the end of my book. It was especially hot--the sun, my skin, and the story--with the only coolness the wind on the wet fabric between my legs. I didn't know if it was soaking through so I closed my legs together in case anyone could see.

I got to a point where I just couldn't take it. I got up and went to the water. Let it lap over my feet. Up my ankles, thighs. I gasped when a wave crested just at the most sensitive spot. It was so cold, I shivered.

"Cold, isn't it," someone said behind me. I looked over my shoulder. He was older than me but I couldn't tell how much older. He smiled. "Is that why you're wearing a one-piece in a tropical paradise, when every other woman is in a bikini?"

I was embarrassed. I could feel it on my cheeks.

"I don't feel the need to let everyone see my body."

"I can respect that. Evangelical? Mormon? Definitely not Catholic."

"My family is Mormon."

"Interesting that you said your family is Mormon. I'm Brett."

"Taylor."

"Taylor and Mormon, uh oh. Lotta baggage there," he said. He noticed the eye roll. "You hear that a lot, don't you?"

"All the time." I laughed, turning to face him.

"Damn, I hate being basic. Promise I'm not a bruh."

"Totally a bruh," I said, my stomach fluttering even as I said it. _Was I doing it? Was I flirting? _

When he smiled, I knew it for sure. This was fun. Only after his eyes darted to my chest and back to my face, did I allow myself to look at him. He looked like the man in my book. Shoulders twice as wide as mine, thick biceps, rippled abs. It felt so naughty but I liked the way he looked. Even if I only gave myself two seconds to check. His hair flitted in the wind.

"First time in Poipu?"

"It is," I said.

"What do you think?"

"It's more beautiful than I knew the world could be."

"A hundred."

"Huh?"

"Hundred percent. Truth."

My thoughts were yanked back to the Book--the only truth. What he said sounded wrong. But he wasn't wrong.

"Do you live here?"

"Yeah. Moved here last year. Pilot a boat for sunset cruises."

"Oh, we want to do one of those."

"You should. Partial to my place," he said, naming it. "I can get you all in for a discount."

"No. No discount."

I shouldn't even be talking to him. He clearly wasn't a brother. My parents had been steering me to Paul. A man from a good family. Our dads often golfed together. Brett seemed confused. His eyebrow raised and he opened his mouth to say something, but didn't.

"It's because my parents will ask too many questions."

"Wait, so you're like Mormon-Mormon? No cursing. No alcohol. No sex before marriage."

"And no caffeine."

"No cold brew coffee?"

"Definitely not."

"You do not know what you're missing out on!" he said.

We both laughed. I looked over his shoulders; my family had their noses in their books.

"Sex is good. But cold brew, fuck," he said.

I shifted my hips, favouring one leg, and tilted my head, giving him a smile that seemed like betrayal to my dad. Brett hooked a thumb into his swim shorts and I watched as he pulled them away from his body, shimmying before letting go.

"You passed the test," he said.

"What test?" I scoffed.

"Are you a red-blooded woman, or a hypocrite?"

"Just because we have morals-," I said.

"It's one or the other. And the better people, I find, are the ones who embrace their," he said, pausing as his eyes traced the curves of my body, "desires."

"That's so animalistic, so base."

"Look around, Taylor." His voice wasn't bitter. It was kind. Patient. "Chickens, birds, those turtles sunning themselves. Now, look at the people."

I did. The man blaring music from a portable speaker. Two girls arguing as they took selfies. A child with a tantrum. Lifeguards saving another person who didn't know their limits.

"Animals aren't so bad, right? Besides, it's not just lust. Its admiration. It's respect. It's valuing your life and the lives of others. It's appreciating another person's vibe and the beauty they bring to the world."

"You think I'm beautiful..."

"You are more radiant than a south shore sunset."

For the first time, I looked down, away. Writing this feels out now, from memory, likely paints him as a player--just some guy trying to get in my pants.

It didn't feel like that. He felt trustworthy.

But I got the idea that he wanted in anyway.

---

I talked my family into the cruise up the Na Pali coast and using Brett's company. When we boarded, my sisters went first. Then my dad and mom. Then me.

I didn't want them seeing his face as he greeted us at the plank. But he kept his cool. Just a subtle wink.

I didn't see him for most of the trip, except when he cut the engines and helped pass out snorkel gear. He held my hand as I climbed down the small ladder at the back of the boat. His grip firm and his forearm muscles engaging as he lowered me down. When my sisters got the same treatment, I felt jealousy. Then guilt from being in the wrong. He could touch them too. It wasn't anything special.

Still, I didn't like it.

---

Later on, as guests took pictures and ate teriyaki chicken from a buffet line, Brett found me. He came up beside me.

"Wanna see my cock-" he said, pausing, "pit?"

My cheeks felt so red, so aflame. I wanted to smack him but that would only rouse suspicion. Instead, I rolled my eyes. He was making me do that quite a bit for someone I barely knew.

I liked it.

"They won't notice you're gone," he said. "Food service takes some time. People are in and out. Come on up."

I followed him up a metal staircase and into an enclosed container barely the size of my bed. Comparing the size to my bed felt like another sin.

He showed me the controls, his radios, satellite phone, and his mini fridge.

"Brought you a cold brew in here," he said, opening the brown door.

"I can't!"

He stepped close to me. I could feel the heat from his body. Smell his clean sweat and sunblock. It made me squeeze my thighs together.

"Aren't you curious?" he said. I was curious. Curious about many things.

"I can't."

"I'll just leave it in this cup holder right here. If you take a sip when I'm not looking, I'll never know."

"Okay, but I'm not going to."

"K. Want to drive the boat?"

"I'm good. I'd crash. I barely can handle my Corolla."

"It's the same thing. I'll show you."

His hand rested on my hip, and he delicately guided me behind the wheel. He took my hand and placed it on one of the metal rungs around it. It was hard and thick and my thoughts were far from pure. He smirked and I promise it felt like he knew what I was thinking, that he could read my mind.

"You've never seen one," he said. He was watching my face. "Have you?"

"No, of course not."

"I didn't know. I thought you all came from a place named for a lake. Surely you've seen a wheel before."

My eyes narrowed. His went to my hand wrapped around the cool metal.

"Oh, you thought I meant a cock?"

"I should go," I said.

He stepped behind me, resting his hands around mine on the wheel. His chest was against my back and I had an inexplicable urge. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and hold me tight to him.

The boat rocked gently on the water. Our hips moved in sync and I knew I should stop it. I should avoid the appearance of evil. I should move away. But I liked how we moved together.

It felt good.

It even felt good as he grew hard against his swim shorts and I could sense the shape of him through my white cotton shorts.

A thought came that scared me--_this felt right_. _

My body was already responding. My swimsuit was drenched in just one spot. I tilted my hips toward him and didn't know if he could tell I was wet.

His hands gripped my hips and held me still, then one hand slid between my legs and up my shorts. I felt his warm fingers on me, prying my shorts down and swimsuit to the side. The cool air of the A/C was a shock to my exposed wetness.

"Brett," I said, watching the people mingle outside, just a few feet below us.

"They can't see in. Tinted windows to keep the sun out of my eyes."

"But-" I said, unable to think as I felt something thick against me.

"Isn't it not sinful if we don't move? We can let the waves move us."

"You're thinking of the Amish. Not the same thing."

"Too many rules," he said, pushing his tip slowly into me.

"Gah," I said, gasping at the stretch of him.

"Fuck," he said. "You're so fucking tight."

"What is that?"

"That's my cock in your tight pussy."

The way his tongue flicked at the k sound felt filthier than the word itself, but not as naughty as him taking more of me. The thrill of it made me smile. I shouldn't, I remember thinking. But I did.

He eased back and forth, claiming more, until he bottomed out. I reached between my legs and felt his balls, hanging low and swinging against my body with every thrust.

My breasts shook obscenely each time he slammed home. I tried to cover them with one arm, thinking if I didn't feel them jostling, it wouldn't be as wrong. He patted my arm away and held my wrists, pinning them behind my back, just above my butt.

I couldn't do anything except take him.

Low in my belly, I felt tension building. Almost like the way it feels at the gym, toward the end of a set. I only knew that eventually, if you were lifting correctly, your body would reach a point where you couldn't do one more. Then you stand, drink some water, and wait for the weird feeling of euphoria at the exertion.

I knew what happened at the gym. I didn't know what was coming in his cockpit.

His thrusts grew stronger, slowing so that I felt every inch of his body breaking upon mine, like the waves outside breaking against the coast.

A moan escaped me, and he quickly switched to holding my wrists in one hand, the other covering my mouth. I kissed his salty fingers, hearing only the mumbled voices outside and my own breath from my nose against his hand.

"You're close," he said.

"Close to what," I mumbled, clearly unable to be heard. He let go. "Close to what?" I gasped as his balls swung heavily against me. My body was stretched beyond anything bearable and it felt so good, so right.

"Close to coming. Let go," he said.

"I don't know how."

"Just feel," he said, his lips against my neck.

Then he was sucking. The tightness in my belly increased quickly. I turned my head, side-to-side, seeking respite. But there was none. He was relentless with his body and I could only let it happen.

My thighs shook when it happened. A high vibrato slipped from my throat. I pushed my hips back against him, feeling his tip hit something deep in me, over and over again.

Then I was soaking my thighs, his shaft, as I had what could only be described as the hardest wave I'd ever ridden. I was tossed by it. Breathless. My legs were weak, unreliable.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice rough.

His thrusts grew erratic. He pulled back suddenly, leaving me gaping and empty. The cool A/C hit my soaked pussy as he kept just the tip against me.

Warmth splashed against my tenderness--once, twice, then more. Thick ropes landed on my mound and inner thighs. "Oh my," I gasped. It stuck to my skin, then slowly dripped down as he stroked the last of it out.

"It's okay," he panted, "I pulled out."

He quickly slid my one-piece back into place, covering the warm mess between my legs. I could already feel it seeping against the fabric.

Outside, everyone was clustered at the rail watching a pod of dolphins. I slipped out the side door on shaky legs and rejoined them. Only after I was safely among my family did I remember the cold brew. I took a quick sip.

"That is good," I murmured.

"The sex or the coffee?" Brett's voice carried down to me, low and teasing.

I smiled, not answering, and turned back toward the water. No one except Brett and me knew what was slowly leaking into the space between my swimsuit and my pussy...

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