Oh my, my, my! Just the answer I was so craving to see!! Thornwood is my favorite enf story series ever (from an enf pov) and I have searched everywhere for anything else by ribeye98. The flow of events, the tension, the desperations, the escalations, the spurs of moment all made for a perfect story. I will specially mention "dresses" and "covers" that leave nothing to imagination :p . I was getting somewhat similar vibes from this story and when the matter of pseudonyms came up, I said to myself "this can't be ribeye98, right? Right? It's been so long!"
So good to see you back! Do you have any other works? Would love to read more! May you have many more coming!
Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (Complete)
-
anthelester121
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 4:19 pm
- Has thanked: 29 times
- Been thanked: 20 times
- Contact:
-
perseus
- Posts: 329
- Joined: Fri Nov 04, 2022 2:33 am
- Has thanked: 495 times
- Been thanked: 544 times
- Contact:
Re: Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (new 12/17)
Well this is a crazy coincidence! I just recently re-read the thornewood stories! I loved how there so many adults conspiring to keep Rachel unclothed in some way. It's definitely one of my favorite ENF stories. I always wanted to see how the Olympic qualifying event went for Rachel.
Not to derail the thread too much from the dare me story but apparently I've been a fan of yours for years now
Thornewood is one of the first ENF stories I've read along with hooked6 stories and it's a huge reason I got into the genre. Glad to see you are writing again!
Can't wait to see what's next for Lucy in the swimsuit saga!
Not to derail the thread too much from the dare me story but apparently I've been a fan of yours for years now
Thornewood is one of the first ENF stories I've read along with hooked6 stories and it's a huge reason I got into the genre. Glad to see you are writing again!
Can't wait to see what's next for Lucy in the swimsuit saga!
-
Themarble
- Posts: 588
- Joined: Thu May 07, 2020 8:41 pm
- Has thanked: 1891 times
- Been thanked: 745 times
- Contact:
Re: Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (new 12/17)
Wait, I must ask. Will thornwood ever return then? I have been invested in the series for a long while now. I wanted for so long to see how it ends.
-
anthelester121
- Posts: 29
- Joined: Sat Dec 10, 2022 4:19 pm
- Has thanked: 29 times
- Been thanked: 20 times
- Contact:
Re: Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (new 12/17)
Second this question. Would really love to see it continued.
-
neverdoubted
- Posts: 467
- Joined: Wed Sep 08, 2021 10:10 pm
- Has thanked: 123 times
- Been thanked: 2029 times
- Contact:
Re: Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (new 12/17)
I have the almost the entire rest of it somewhere. Would have to dust it off.
It was building toward a pretty obvious climax (see what I did there?) but there were a few fun parts remaining like going through security at the airport and at Disneyworld.
-
Themarble
- Posts: 588
- Joined: Thu May 07, 2020 8:41 pm
- Has thanked: 1891 times
- Been thanked: 745 times
- Contact:
Re: Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (new 12/17)
That all sounds great. If you can find it all I think I can speak for everyone that we would all, and I do mean all love to read that conclusion. The way the story was building is too perfect to not have that 'climax' (;.
If you find it, it will be a celebration.
In the archives you can see everything that was retrieved and you will be able to piece it back, I hope.
If you find it, it will be a celebration.
In the archives you can see everything that was retrieved and you will be able to piece it back, I hope.
-
neverdoubted
- Posts: 467
- Joined: Wed Sep 08, 2021 10:10 pm
- Has thanked: 123 times
- Been thanked: 2029 times
- Contact:
Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (new 12/24)
Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (Part 4)
A long line of taxis waited outside the airport to deliver tourists to their various vacation rentals. I gave our destination address to the one in front. The driver frowned at the address and asked me to confirm it. He said it wasn't a regular vacation spot and thought we might have been given the wrong address by mistake. It was a residential area, he said, and while you could reach the beach from there, it was a hike. I didn't have any way to confirm the address. It was the only one Kiki, our travel agent, had given us. I told him to take just take us anyway and we would figure something out if it wasn't the right place.
He drove us to the back street of an older neighborhood - still no sign of the beach - and we pulled up to modest mid-century house. It sat on a decently large diamond-shaped corner lot which backed up to an apartment complex. The complex had been built on a rise or small hill just behind the neighborhood. The apartments looked even older than the house, like they were constructed during the great depression. They weren't more than two stories, but their ascendent position on the higher up lot made them loom over the neighborhood of smaller, single-family homes. Their brutalist architectural style of red bricks and few windows made the outdated houses cute by comparison.
This was not in any way like I expected. Our travel agent, Kiki, had sold the idea as a way to experience a beachfront bungalow without the beachfront prices. I was skeptical at the time, but she had assured me it was her own investment property. And besides, after the way we had squandered mom's severance package, we didn't really have any good options if we wanted to reach the ocean. So, I approached the front door, resolving to make the best of it. If this really was the right place, it would work well enough as a home base and place to sleep. We weren't planning to spend much time here anyway.
Kiki had given me the phone number of a Mr. Unger, who was the property manager. If we had any problems, we were supposed to contact him. So, you can imagine my surprise when Mr. Unger himself met us at the front door. He was a balding man, probably in his fifties, and not in good shape. He was dressed very casually, too casually in fact, in a dirty tank top and shorts and was smoking a cigarette. Still, I was initially impressed by his hospitality, thinking he was going the extra mile by giving us a personal tour of our rental house. But when he just stood his ground blocking the door and wouldn't let us enter, I changed my mind about his manners.
After a few awkward seconds of him sizing us up, I tried to move the conversation along by asking, "so, um, do you have our key?"
"Key, ha!" he scowled, "be no use for that."
This was going nowhere. I decided to mention Kiki, thinking name-dropping his boss would spur him into action.
"Kiki, yeah, told me you were coming. Short notice..." was his odd response. What were we supposed to say to that?
"Ah well, I suppose you'll want to see your digs," he finally said, stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind him.
At a loss, we had no choice but to follow him. He led us along the front of the house warning us to be careful of the walkway. The path was ancient with more bricks out of place than in. The ones that were still laid down hid between thick tufts of weeds. He said it was "under refurbishment".
Passing through a chain-link gate, we rounded the side of the house into the big backyard where a spectacular oasis awaited us. While the edges of the yard were overgrown, a good portion was maintained. The old man led us to the middle where the house’s original in-ground pool had been filled in. In its place was a kidney-shaped cement slab where a tiki hut had been built on top.
The hut was open air, about the size of our living room back home, and fitted with tropical decor. There were no walls, only wooden logs at the corners and a grass thatch roof. Along the back, a kitchen area had been apportioned with a countertop and even a small sink. There was a propane powered stovetop and a charcoal grill stood just outside the hut. An electric wire ran from the house and powered a small refrigerator.
A bonus entertaining space had been built coming off one side of the hut. It had an actual tiki bar with stools, and sand had been trucked in to make that area feel more like a beach. Several lounge chairs were also arranged around a pit to create a simulated beach bonfire area. An above-ground pool had been installed. It sat in the furthest corner of the yard to make up for the fact that the original pool was gone. I excitedly ran over to a hammock that had been hung between two palm trees and tried to get in. To everyone’s amusement, I failed the first few times, but managed to eventually stay in with some effort. With imaginary tropical music wafting into my thoughts, I euphorically wondered if it would be possible to sleep out here in our own personal beach hideaway!
Ok, for Kiki to call this a beachfront bungalow was overselling it. But it was still pretty neat to have something like this right outside our vacation home. It was as close to paradise as I had ever come. At least, that was my first impression. My initial euphoria started to fade when I looked over and noticed mom frowning. Taking off my rose-colored glasses and turning down the music in my head, I gave our surroundings a second honest look; vowing to focus on the negatives this time.
On my second pass, I noticed right away the place had been trashed. It was like the previous guests had left without cleaning up. There was garbage everywhere! Even the surfaces were smeared with grease and grime. I could see why mom would be uncomfortable in this environment.
Speaking of discomfort, while there was a privacy fence along both back edges of the yard, it didn't feel very private with those apartments looming over us. My unease grew when I walked over to the above-ground pool to find it was only half full and the water was so murky, you couldn't see the bottom. Mr. Unger called out to warn me it was under refurbishment, and we weren't allowed to swim in it. No problem there! You couldn't pay me to get in that cesspool.
I completed a circuit of the yard while Mr. Unger made a speech. All the furniture was dated and worn. He told us not to make noise after 11:00pm and pointed to a gap where one section of the privacy fence had fallen down. Just through that gap, he explained, was the apartment complex dumpster. We were expected to throw our own trash…in the neighbors dumpster? OK, that was weird...
Then he pointed the opposite direction to where a small pool house used to stand. It had long been torn down, but the shower remained. The "shower" was nothing more than a lone metal pipe coming up out of the ground and looping high over a drain built into the cement floor. It was behind a rickety wooden privacy screen which had nearly all its slats missing.
"Knock if ya need to use the bathroom - but if it's just piss, go over there." he said pointing at the drain, then turned and walked back to the house; disappearing through the back door.
Knock if ya...what?
It took me a minute to piece together the meaning of Mr. Unger's little speech. My heart sank as our real situation finally snapped into place. Kiki had not rented us a house that came with a beachfront style bungalow in the backyard. She had only rented us the bungalow. Mr. Unger lived in the house! We were expected to stay out here!
Just then I caught some motion along the fence. I looked over to see a single eyeball peering intently through a knothole in one of the boards. From its low height, I guessed it came from a curious child. Scanning along the fence, I found another knothole several feet down from the first. It was higher up and also had a creepy unblinking eyeball in it. It would seem our presence had attracted an audience from the nearby apartments. It seemed this private backyard hideaway was not so private after all.
A long line of taxis waited outside the airport to deliver tourists to their various vacation rentals. I gave our destination address to the one in front. The driver frowned at the address and asked me to confirm it. He said it wasn't a regular vacation spot and thought we might have been given the wrong address by mistake. It was a residential area, he said, and while you could reach the beach from there, it was a hike. I didn't have any way to confirm the address. It was the only one Kiki, our travel agent, had given us. I told him to take just take us anyway and we would figure something out if it wasn't the right place.
He drove us to the back street of an older neighborhood - still no sign of the beach - and we pulled up to modest mid-century house. It sat on a decently large diamond-shaped corner lot which backed up to an apartment complex. The complex had been built on a rise or small hill just behind the neighborhood. The apartments looked even older than the house, like they were constructed during the great depression. They weren't more than two stories, but their ascendent position on the higher up lot made them loom over the neighborhood of smaller, single-family homes. Their brutalist architectural style of red bricks and few windows made the outdated houses cute by comparison.
This was not in any way like I expected. Our travel agent, Kiki, had sold the idea as a way to experience a beachfront bungalow without the beachfront prices. I was skeptical at the time, but she had assured me it was her own investment property. And besides, after the way we had squandered mom's severance package, we didn't really have any good options if we wanted to reach the ocean. So, I approached the front door, resolving to make the best of it. If this really was the right place, it would work well enough as a home base and place to sleep. We weren't planning to spend much time here anyway.
Kiki had given me the phone number of a Mr. Unger, who was the property manager. If we had any problems, we were supposed to contact him. So, you can imagine my surprise when Mr. Unger himself met us at the front door. He was a balding man, probably in his fifties, and not in good shape. He was dressed very casually, too casually in fact, in a dirty tank top and shorts and was smoking a cigarette. Still, I was initially impressed by his hospitality, thinking he was going the extra mile by giving us a personal tour of our rental house. But when he just stood his ground blocking the door and wouldn't let us enter, I changed my mind about his manners.
After a few awkward seconds of him sizing us up, I tried to move the conversation along by asking, "so, um, do you have our key?"
"Key, ha!" he scowled, "be no use for that."
This was going nowhere. I decided to mention Kiki, thinking name-dropping his boss would spur him into action.
"Kiki, yeah, told me you were coming. Short notice..." was his odd response. What were we supposed to say to that?
"Ah well, I suppose you'll want to see your digs," he finally said, stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind him.
At a loss, we had no choice but to follow him. He led us along the front of the house warning us to be careful of the walkway. The path was ancient with more bricks out of place than in. The ones that were still laid down hid between thick tufts of weeds. He said it was "under refurbishment".
Passing through a chain-link gate, we rounded the side of the house into the big backyard where a spectacular oasis awaited us. While the edges of the yard were overgrown, a good portion was maintained. The old man led us to the middle where the house’s original in-ground pool had been filled in. In its place was a kidney-shaped cement slab where a tiki hut had been built on top.
The hut was open air, about the size of our living room back home, and fitted with tropical decor. There were no walls, only wooden logs at the corners and a grass thatch roof. Along the back, a kitchen area had been apportioned with a countertop and even a small sink. There was a propane powered stovetop and a charcoal grill stood just outside the hut. An electric wire ran from the house and powered a small refrigerator.
A bonus entertaining space had been built coming off one side of the hut. It had an actual tiki bar with stools, and sand had been trucked in to make that area feel more like a beach. Several lounge chairs were also arranged around a pit to create a simulated beach bonfire area. An above-ground pool had been installed. It sat in the furthest corner of the yard to make up for the fact that the original pool was gone. I excitedly ran over to a hammock that had been hung between two palm trees and tried to get in. To everyone’s amusement, I failed the first few times, but managed to eventually stay in with some effort. With imaginary tropical music wafting into my thoughts, I euphorically wondered if it would be possible to sleep out here in our own personal beach hideaway!
Ok, for Kiki to call this a beachfront bungalow was overselling it. But it was still pretty neat to have something like this right outside our vacation home. It was as close to paradise as I had ever come. At least, that was my first impression. My initial euphoria started to fade when I looked over and noticed mom frowning. Taking off my rose-colored glasses and turning down the music in my head, I gave our surroundings a second honest look; vowing to focus on the negatives this time.
On my second pass, I noticed right away the place had been trashed. It was like the previous guests had left without cleaning up. There was garbage everywhere! Even the surfaces were smeared with grease and grime. I could see why mom would be uncomfortable in this environment.
Speaking of discomfort, while there was a privacy fence along both back edges of the yard, it didn't feel very private with those apartments looming over us. My unease grew when I walked over to the above-ground pool to find it was only half full and the water was so murky, you couldn't see the bottom. Mr. Unger called out to warn me it was under refurbishment, and we weren't allowed to swim in it. No problem there! You couldn't pay me to get in that cesspool.
I completed a circuit of the yard while Mr. Unger made a speech. All the furniture was dated and worn. He told us not to make noise after 11:00pm and pointed to a gap where one section of the privacy fence had fallen down. Just through that gap, he explained, was the apartment complex dumpster. We were expected to throw our own trash…in the neighbors dumpster? OK, that was weird...
Then he pointed the opposite direction to where a small pool house used to stand. It had long been torn down, but the shower remained. The "shower" was nothing more than a lone metal pipe coming up out of the ground and looping high over a drain built into the cement floor. It was behind a rickety wooden privacy screen which had nearly all its slats missing.
"Knock if ya need to use the bathroom - but if it's just piss, go over there." he said pointing at the drain, then turned and walked back to the house; disappearing through the back door.
Knock if ya...what?
It took me a minute to piece together the meaning of Mr. Unger's little speech. My heart sank as our real situation finally snapped into place. Kiki had not rented us a house that came with a beachfront style bungalow in the backyard. She had only rented us the bungalow. Mr. Unger lived in the house! We were expected to stay out here!
Just then I caught some motion along the fence. I looked over to see a single eyeball peering intently through a knothole in one of the boards. From its low height, I guessed it came from a curious child. Scanning along the fence, I found another knothole several feet down from the first. It was higher up and also had a creepy unblinking eyeball in it. It would seem our presence had attracted an audience from the nearby apartments. It seemed this private backyard hideaway was not so private after all.
-
TeenFan
- Posts: 1385
- Joined: Thu Sep 08, 2022 1:28 pm
- Has thanked: 758 times
- Been thanked: 2875 times
- Contact:
Re: Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (new 12/24)
The movie "The Hills Have Eyes" has a sequel... "The Fences Have Eyes"
Lucy might come back from her "walk to the beach" with her swimsuit slashed to pieces, that is, if it's ever found at all.
Lucy might come back from her "walk to the beach" with her swimsuit slashed to pieces, that is, if it's ever found at all.
-
perseus
- Posts: 329
- Joined: Fri Nov 04, 2022 2:33 am
- Has thanked: 495 times
- Been thanked: 544 times
- Contact:
Re: Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (new 12/24)
This poor family can't seem to catch a break. Can't wait to see what Mikey makes Lucy do in this situation.
-
neverdoubted
- Posts: 467
- Joined: Wed Sep 08, 2021 10:10 pm
- Has thanked: 123 times
- Been thanked: 2029 times
- Contact:
Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (Part 5)
Dare Me - The Lost Swimsuit Saga (Part 5)
Just then my stomach grumbled to remind me it was dinner time. We hadn't eaten much of anything since lunch and a large portion of the taxi ride over had been spent discussing meal plans. As soon as we got settled into our rental, Lucy and I were supposed to take one of the suitcases and walk to the nearest supermarket to buy supplies. We were only there for three nights, so it wasn’t difficult to make a list of what we would need to stock the kitchen for our stay.
But we had not counted on our rental's kitchen being smack dab in the middle of someone's backyard! We all just stood there looking at each other - all wondering the same thing. Should we really stay here and try to stick it out? I mentally added up our remaining funds and weighed our options.
It helped that the airline had given us some cash for taking the later flight. If we pooled everything together, we could probably afford a cheap motel for the next three nights. But then what would we eat? Maybe we could sleep on the beach - if that was a thing? But how was Mr. Unger's backyard oasis any worse than that? At least here we had a roof over our heads...sort of. As a last resort, we could use our remaining money to turn around and fly back home. But I hated to cancel our vacation after coming so far. We hadn't even seen the ocean yet!
Ultimately, I concluded our only real option was to make the best of what we had for one night and reevaluate tomorrow. If we survived, who knows, we might decide this wasn't so bad a place after all. I knew one thing - clearing out this garbage and eating a good meal would brighten everyone's outlook. So, taking charge of the situation, I put on a brave face, announced we were staying, and put everyone to work. I decided Lucy and mom would stay here and clean things up while I went on a solo grocery run.
I bothered Mr. Unger who reluctantly gave us cleaning supplies, some spray cleaners with rags, and a few garbage bags. He also gave me directions to the nearest supermarket.
Mom got mildly upset at Lucy when I went to empty out our suitcase and revealed that she had "accidentally" forgotten to pack all her clothes for the trip. Of course, as an earlier punishment for not letting me sleep, I had unpacked all her outfits before we left home.
After some berating, Mom said she would find a clothing store first thing in the morning to help Lucy rebuild her wardrobe. As I had instructed her, Lucy argued that was entirely unnecessary and she could get by with what she had. By some random stroke of luck, her bikini had been packed in my carry-on. As long as she had that and her dress, she insisted to mom that she would be fine. Mom seemed doubtful that a young lady could get by for three more days with only a swimsuit and one dress, but she backed down when I weighed in and sided with Lucy.
We simply didn't have extra funds for clothes, and that settled the matter. Since it had been all Lucy's fault, she would just have to live with the consequences. Having handed down my ruling, I put them to work cleaning and struck out on my own.
Our neighborhood was one of several that had been built long ago to house locals who worked at venues along the Redneck Riviera. I walked straight east in parallel to the ocean and was no closer to the beach when I reached the supermarket. I got some strange looks rolling my suitcase around behind me through the grocery store. But I'm sure I wasn't the first tourist to do something like that.
I mostly stuck to the basics, sandwiches for lunch and milk, eggs, and bacon for breakfast. Since we had a grill, I got hamburgers and hotdogs too. In the end I was thankful for the suitcase. There's no way I would have been able to carry it all back to the house by myself, especially with that bag of charcoal. At the exit, I picked up some firewood for a bonfire. I bought some and stacked most on top of the suitcase against the pull-up handle. I was about to tuck the rest under my arm. But before I left, I got a bright idea to get stuff for smores and ran back inside real quick.
The hike home was much less enjoyable. My muscles were really burning by the time I completed my journey. The suitcase took a beating, too. The tiny wheels didn’t like the rough asphalt and even the sidewalks were in bad shape. The weight of the firewood also bent the pull bar so that it no would longer retract properly. But that was a problem for another day.
I was pleased to see all the progress the girls had made when I returned. They had cleaned up all the litter and given the tiki hut a good scrub down. They had opened three camping cots, each smaller than a twin bed, and rearranged the hut to have a little bedroom space.
Their cleaning and organizing efforts had entirely transformed the place; especially the kitchen area which had formerly been a disaster. It's amazing what a little elbow grease can do. Speaking of grease, mom and Lucy were filthy after all that scrubbing. Mom had gotten the worst of it trying to get the kitchen clean. Her arms and hands were covered in grease and there were stains on her shirt that would probably never come out.
The sun was setting by now, rapidly throwing the yard into darkness. Fortunately, there was a lone lightbulb hanging from the middle of the hut which enabled us to perform evening meal prep. Mom looked exhausted and I noticed her eyeing the shower wistfully. She was so dirty, she couldn't even touch anything without spreading grease onto it!
I insisted Lucy and I could take care of the food while she took a shower and got cleaned up before dinner. That's when I realized we didn't have any towels. After all that travel preparation, we had forgotten to bring one of the fundamental items for laying out on the beach. Oops!
Knocking on the backdoor, I bothered Mr. Unger one last time to ask for some towels. He disappeared inside the house, grumbling and complaining the whole time, but did return with a single bath towel. He pointed to a clothesline, telling me to keep it off the ground and hang-dry it between uses. He sternly warned we were not to take that towel to the beach and if it was not returned in similar condition, it would come out of our security deposit. I didn't even know what he was talking about, but I nodded my head in agreement and took the towel.
I returned to the hut just in time to watch mom pull Lucy's dress up over her head.
"This will need to soak a while if there's any chance of getting the grease out…Lucy Marie Jenkins, where on Earth are your underthings?!” Her eyes bulged when she removed the dress and saw her daughter standing there with no underwear on.
I knew where they were. Well, at least I had a pretty good guess. I had taken Lucy's underwear from her on the plane and left them in the overhead bin as punishment. They could be thousands of miles away by now unless someone noticed them and threw them away. But Lucy couldn't tell mom the truth. She had to pretend like, in all the excitement of traveling, she had somehow forgotten to put on underwear after her morning shower that morning. Combined with the fact that she had forgotten to pack her clothes, that meant she wouldn't have any underwear for the rest of the trip! And with her dress soaking, she had nothing left to wear.
Mom was quite upset. I'm sure she felt partially responsible. What kind of mother takes her daughter on a vacation and forgets to make sure she has any underwear on? Reprimanding Lucy for being so careless, she filled the kitchen sink with warm soapy water and started the dress soaking.
"I can't believe you flew all the way here without any underthings on! Do you know how dangerous and irresponsible that was? Somebody could have seen...something they shouldn't!" she scolded.
I tended to the grill, wisely staying in the periphery and out of the way. I couldn't help but chuckle at mom's statement. She had no idea how bad it really was. Forget underthings! Lucy had spent almost the entire second flight completely naked!
Still steaming, she went to take her shower while I started the burgers on the grill. By now it was too dark to even see the shower area, but I could hear the water running. I didn't have much experience grilling and it took all my attention to keep from burning the meat.
She returned to the hut clean and dripping and stopped by to check on my progress. Her chest was too big to be contained by the towel and she had to resort to holding it mostly closed with one hand.
If you're wondering why mom wasn't shy about standing in front of her son in just a skimpy towel, it's kind of a long story. Recently I had been helping her through a tough time at work, giving her useful wardrobe advice and encouraging her to stand up to her manipulative former boss. In the process I had seen every part of her body, in bits and pieces. I think she saw me as one of the few people in her life who didn't take advantage of her and that made her less self-conscious around me than she would normally be.
Still, when she removed the towel and started drying her hair, it was the first time I had ever seen her completely naked, and I was a little stunned. Even barely lit by the flames of the grill, I could see she had an amazing body. She took good care of herself and had a body to be proud of. She was much more curvaceous that Lucy and was well-proportioned - if somewhat top-heavy due to her oversized chest. Her nipples were also larger and darker than Lucy's.
It got me wondering how much of mom's physique Lucy would end up inheriting. My sister did seem to be something of an early bloomer when it came to breast development. Perhaps she got that from mom. But her blue eyes and light blonde hair had to come from dad. Mom had mousy brown hair and brown eyes.
But what about her personality and inclinations? Where did her desires for dares come from? Who had planted that urge deep down inside her and what drove her to request and complete dares without fail? From what few stories I had heard, dad's penchant for out of control, risk-taking behavior, and mom's inability to say "no" had contributed greatly to their inevitable divorce. Best I could tell, Lucy was a volatile mix of them both.
It only made sense that the urge must have come from dad - the thing that kept her coming back asking for more, month after month. And the other part, the pliant part came from mom. That's what caused her to always submit to the terms of dare no matter how embarrassing I made it. Those combined traits made for a dangerous combination. I knew I was playing with fire and had to be careful. But I could be careful and still have fun, right?
I ended my reverie and turned attention back to mom. I couldn't help but notice that, unlike Lucy, she had gotten a bikini wax before our trip. She only had a small strip of hair left down the middle. But the main attraction was the way her massive mammaries defied gravity, swaying back and forth pendulously with their own weight as she rubbed her hair dry.
As I collected the burgers off the grill, mom went over to her suitcase to pick out some clothes. When I got the food to the table, she was wearing some sleep shorts, presumably with panties underneath, and a loose-fitting night shirt. I didn't blame her for eschewing a bra for comfort. I couldn't imagine how hard her bra must have to work every day to contain and support those melons.
I was also upset to find she had loaned Lucy one of my shirts to wear for the evening and to bed. I guess it made sense. Mom's only other article of eveningwear was a nightgown. Its much bigger bust would have been a poor fit on Lucy. So why not let her borrow one of Michael’s tee shirts, eh?
As soon as Lucy saw my face, she knew she had made a huge mistake. She should have refused mom's offer. She should have at least checked with me. She didn't have permission to wear my clothes. She started fiddling with the hem of the shirt, clearly regretting ever having let mom put it on her.
After devouring the rather delicious dinner, mom checked on Lucy's soaking dress. She said it was too dark to tell and we wouldn't know until morning if the stains were out. She hung it up to dry and offered to clean the dishes while I went to kindle a bonfire. Lucy came over and tried to apologize for getting dressed without my permission. She offered to take off the shirt - as if that would make up for her terrible choices.
"Don't bother," I told her, “The damage is already done. You can’t take it off now that you have accepted it. So, you might as well enjoy it while you can. I'll think of some way for you to pay me back tomorrow. But if mom tries to offer you any more of my clothes, you better refuse. Understand?"
She promised solemnly and I patted her on the head. Good girl. We sat around the fire with our toes wiggling in the sand, eating smores and talking excitedly about how much fun we were going to have at the beach the next day. All in all, despite the unusual accommodations and all the setbacks, I had to consider our first day of vacation a success. One down, three to go!
Our giddiness faded along with the dying fire, and I caught myself yawning. I announced I was going to bed and everyone else agreed that sounded like a good idea. Lucy went to brush her teeth while I grabbed Mr. Unger's towel and took a quick shower. It was a strange experience, showering in some guy's backyard. But even more unnerving was how many glowing second-story apartment windows I could count from the shower area. If I could see them now, that meant they could all see any of us taking a shower during the day. I shivered at the thought then tried to push it from my mind.
I dressed for bed in boxers and a clean tee shirt and hung the towel next to Lucy's dress. Then it was my turn to brush my teeth. It was still warm even after the sun went down. That was a good thing, since Mr. Unger had not given us any blankets or bedding. I briefly considered sleeping in the hammock like I had seen on TV shows, but ultimately chose to stick to the cot.
As I lay there, I mused about all the fun things I had experienced that day. But even with all the new experiences, the most fun part had been making Lucy fly naked. I got turned on thinking back at the scene her bare body had made in that airline seat. She had blushed so hard when she saw that boy staring at her! And when she had been forced to spread for our traveling companions and reveal everything in between her legs...
I felt a throbbing need growing between my own legs. If I had been somewhere more private, I would have taken care of it. But laying there with my mom and sister in cots just to my left, I was too embarrassed to play with myself and risk getting caught. I did reach into my shorts, just to check on things down there, and gasped. It felt so good that I couldn't let go. Slowly and silently moving my hand up and down, I began to wonder, if I stayed super quiet, maybe I could-
"Mikey," a quiet whisper interrupted my efforts, "I'm cold, can I sleep with you?"
She always hated the cold. Even though it wasn't very cold yet, still the upper sixties, I did already miss the warmth of the bonfire. And the temperature was likely to keep dropping all night long. For my own sake as well as hers, extracting my hand from my complaining member, I said "yes" and moved over to make room on the cot.
The bed was not meant for two people, and it was a tight fit. Even if we wanted to keep separate, the sag in the middle kept pulling us back together. Lucy was perfectly fine with that. She snuggled up as close as she could in a spoon shape with every part of her pressed against me from head to toe. I didn’t complain. After all, sharing body heat was the whole point of coming over to my bed in the first place. But stuck in just a too-short tee shirt with nothing underneath, quite a lot of her skin was making direct contact to mine. Before long she was happily snoring away in my warm embrace.
Trying to ignore the naked bottom pressing firmly against the front of my boxers, I wondered how I was going to endure it. I was as hard as a diamond down there and would need to get some relief eventually. With a monumental effort, I forced myself to think of something else. And somehow, the day's excitement caught up to me eventually and sleep overtook.
I awoke first the next morning, still as rock-hard on day two as I had ended day one, and immediately began scheming. Yesterday was a nice preview, but today was when the real fun would begin!
Just then my stomach grumbled to remind me it was dinner time. We hadn't eaten much of anything since lunch and a large portion of the taxi ride over had been spent discussing meal plans. As soon as we got settled into our rental, Lucy and I were supposed to take one of the suitcases and walk to the nearest supermarket to buy supplies. We were only there for three nights, so it wasn’t difficult to make a list of what we would need to stock the kitchen for our stay.
But we had not counted on our rental's kitchen being smack dab in the middle of someone's backyard! We all just stood there looking at each other - all wondering the same thing. Should we really stay here and try to stick it out? I mentally added up our remaining funds and weighed our options.
It helped that the airline had given us some cash for taking the later flight. If we pooled everything together, we could probably afford a cheap motel for the next three nights. But then what would we eat? Maybe we could sleep on the beach - if that was a thing? But how was Mr. Unger's backyard oasis any worse than that? At least here we had a roof over our heads...sort of. As a last resort, we could use our remaining money to turn around and fly back home. But I hated to cancel our vacation after coming so far. We hadn't even seen the ocean yet!
Ultimately, I concluded our only real option was to make the best of what we had for one night and reevaluate tomorrow. If we survived, who knows, we might decide this wasn't so bad a place after all. I knew one thing - clearing out this garbage and eating a good meal would brighten everyone's outlook. So, taking charge of the situation, I put on a brave face, announced we were staying, and put everyone to work. I decided Lucy and mom would stay here and clean things up while I went on a solo grocery run.
I bothered Mr. Unger who reluctantly gave us cleaning supplies, some spray cleaners with rags, and a few garbage bags. He also gave me directions to the nearest supermarket.
Mom got mildly upset at Lucy when I went to empty out our suitcase and revealed that she had "accidentally" forgotten to pack all her clothes for the trip. Of course, as an earlier punishment for not letting me sleep, I had unpacked all her outfits before we left home.
After some berating, Mom said she would find a clothing store first thing in the morning to help Lucy rebuild her wardrobe. As I had instructed her, Lucy argued that was entirely unnecessary and she could get by with what she had. By some random stroke of luck, her bikini had been packed in my carry-on. As long as she had that and her dress, she insisted to mom that she would be fine. Mom seemed doubtful that a young lady could get by for three more days with only a swimsuit and one dress, but she backed down when I weighed in and sided with Lucy.
We simply didn't have extra funds for clothes, and that settled the matter. Since it had been all Lucy's fault, she would just have to live with the consequences. Having handed down my ruling, I put them to work cleaning and struck out on my own.
Our neighborhood was one of several that had been built long ago to house locals who worked at venues along the Redneck Riviera. I walked straight east in parallel to the ocean and was no closer to the beach when I reached the supermarket. I got some strange looks rolling my suitcase around behind me through the grocery store. But I'm sure I wasn't the first tourist to do something like that.
I mostly stuck to the basics, sandwiches for lunch and milk, eggs, and bacon for breakfast. Since we had a grill, I got hamburgers and hotdogs too. In the end I was thankful for the suitcase. There's no way I would have been able to carry it all back to the house by myself, especially with that bag of charcoal. At the exit, I picked up some firewood for a bonfire. I bought some and stacked most on top of the suitcase against the pull-up handle. I was about to tuck the rest under my arm. But before I left, I got a bright idea to get stuff for smores and ran back inside real quick.
The hike home was much less enjoyable. My muscles were really burning by the time I completed my journey. The suitcase took a beating, too. The tiny wheels didn’t like the rough asphalt and even the sidewalks were in bad shape. The weight of the firewood also bent the pull bar so that it no would longer retract properly. But that was a problem for another day.
I was pleased to see all the progress the girls had made when I returned. They had cleaned up all the litter and given the tiki hut a good scrub down. They had opened three camping cots, each smaller than a twin bed, and rearranged the hut to have a little bedroom space.
Their cleaning and organizing efforts had entirely transformed the place; especially the kitchen area which had formerly been a disaster. It's amazing what a little elbow grease can do. Speaking of grease, mom and Lucy were filthy after all that scrubbing. Mom had gotten the worst of it trying to get the kitchen clean. Her arms and hands were covered in grease and there were stains on her shirt that would probably never come out.
The sun was setting by now, rapidly throwing the yard into darkness. Fortunately, there was a lone lightbulb hanging from the middle of the hut which enabled us to perform evening meal prep. Mom looked exhausted and I noticed her eyeing the shower wistfully. She was so dirty, she couldn't even touch anything without spreading grease onto it!
I insisted Lucy and I could take care of the food while she took a shower and got cleaned up before dinner. That's when I realized we didn't have any towels. After all that travel preparation, we had forgotten to bring one of the fundamental items for laying out on the beach. Oops!
Knocking on the backdoor, I bothered Mr. Unger one last time to ask for some towels. He disappeared inside the house, grumbling and complaining the whole time, but did return with a single bath towel. He pointed to a clothesline, telling me to keep it off the ground and hang-dry it between uses. He sternly warned we were not to take that towel to the beach and if it was not returned in similar condition, it would come out of our security deposit. I didn't even know what he was talking about, but I nodded my head in agreement and took the towel.
I returned to the hut just in time to watch mom pull Lucy's dress up over her head.
"This will need to soak a while if there's any chance of getting the grease out…Lucy Marie Jenkins, where on Earth are your underthings?!” Her eyes bulged when she removed the dress and saw her daughter standing there with no underwear on.
I knew where they were. Well, at least I had a pretty good guess. I had taken Lucy's underwear from her on the plane and left them in the overhead bin as punishment. They could be thousands of miles away by now unless someone noticed them and threw them away. But Lucy couldn't tell mom the truth. She had to pretend like, in all the excitement of traveling, she had somehow forgotten to put on underwear after her morning shower that morning. Combined with the fact that she had forgotten to pack her clothes, that meant she wouldn't have any underwear for the rest of the trip! And with her dress soaking, she had nothing left to wear.
Mom was quite upset. I'm sure she felt partially responsible. What kind of mother takes her daughter on a vacation and forgets to make sure she has any underwear on? Reprimanding Lucy for being so careless, she filled the kitchen sink with warm soapy water and started the dress soaking.
"I can't believe you flew all the way here without any underthings on! Do you know how dangerous and irresponsible that was? Somebody could have seen...something they shouldn't!" she scolded.
I tended to the grill, wisely staying in the periphery and out of the way. I couldn't help but chuckle at mom's statement. She had no idea how bad it really was. Forget underthings! Lucy had spent almost the entire second flight completely naked!
Still steaming, she went to take her shower while I started the burgers on the grill. By now it was too dark to even see the shower area, but I could hear the water running. I didn't have much experience grilling and it took all my attention to keep from burning the meat.
She returned to the hut clean and dripping and stopped by to check on my progress. Her chest was too big to be contained by the towel and she had to resort to holding it mostly closed with one hand.
If you're wondering why mom wasn't shy about standing in front of her son in just a skimpy towel, it's kind of a long story. Recently I had been helping her through a tough time at work, giving her useful wardrobe advice and encouraging her to stand up to her manipulative former boss. In the process I had seen every part of her body, in bits and pieces. I think she saw me as one of the few people in her life who didn't take advantage of her and that made her less self-conscious around me than she would normally be.
Still, when she removed the towel and started drying her hair, it was the first time I had ever seen her completely naked, and I was a little stunned. Even barely lit by the flames of the grill, I could see she had an amazing body. She took good care of herself and had a body to be proud of. She was much more curvaceous that Lucy and was well-proportioned - if somewhat top-heavy due to her oversized chest. Her nipples were also larger and darker than Lucy's.
It got me wondering how much of mom's physique Lucy would end up inheriting. My sister did seem to be something of an early bloomer when it came to breast development. Perhaps she got that from mom. But her blue eyes and light blonde hair had to come from dad. Mom had mousy brown hair and brown eyes.
But what about her personality and inclinations? Where did her desires for dares come from? Who had planted that urge deep down inside her and what drove her to request and complete dares without fail? From what few stories I had heard, dad's penchant for out of control, risk-taking behavior, and mom's inability to say "no" had contributed greatly to their inevitable divorce. Best I could tell, Lucy was a volatile mix of them both.
It only made sense that the urge must have come from dad - the thing that kept her coming back asking for more, month after month. And the other part, the pliant part came from mom. That's what caused her to always submit to the terms of dare no matter how embarrassing I made it. Those combined traits made for a dangerous combination. I knew I was playing with fire and had to be careful. But I could be careful and still have fun, right?
I ended my reverie and turned attention back to mom. I couldn't help but notice that, unlike Lucy, she had gotten a bikini wax before our trip. She only had a small strip of hair left down the middle. But the main attraction was the way her massive mammaries defied gravity, swaying back and forth pendulously with their own weight as she rubbed her hair dry.
As I collected the burgers off the grill, mom went over to her suitcase to pick out some clothes. When I got the food to the table, she was wearing some sleep shorts, presumably with panties underneath, and a loose-fitting night shirt. I didn't blame her for eschewing a bra for comfort. I couldn't imagine how hard her bra must have to work every day to contain and support those melons.
I was also upset to find she had loaned Lucy one of my shirts to wear for the evening and to bed. I guess it made sense. Mom's only other article of eveningwear was a nightgown. Its much bigger bust would have been a poor fit on Lucy. So why not let her borrow one of Michael’s tee shirts, eh?
As soon as Lucy saw my face, she knew she had made a huge mistake. She should have refused mom's offer. She should have at least checked with me. She didn't have permission to wear my clothes. She started fiddling with the hem of the shirt, clearly regretting ever having let mom put it on her.
After devouring the rather delicious dinner, mom checked on Lucy's soaking dress. She said it was too dark to tell and we wouldn't know until morning if the stains were out. She hung it up to dry and offered to clean the dishes while I went to kindle a bonfire. Lucy came over and tried to apologize for getting dressed without my permission. She offered to take off the shirt - as if that would make up for her terrible choices.
"Don't bother," I told her, “The damage is already done. You can’t take it off now that you have accepted it. So, you might as well enjoy it while you can. I'll think of some way for you to pay me back tomorrow. But if mom tries to offer you any more of my clothes, you better refuse. Understand?"
She promised solemnly and I patted her on the head. Good girl. We sat around the fire with our toes wiggling in the sand, eating smores and talking excitedly about how much fun we were going to have at the beach the next day. All in all, despite the unusual accommodations and all the setbacks, I had to consider our first day of vacation a success. One down, three to go!
Our giddiness faded along with the dying fire, and I caught myself yawning. I announced I was going to bed and everyone else agreed that sounded like a good idea. Lucy went to brush her teeth while I grabbed Mr. Unger's towel and took a quick shower. It was a strange experience, showering in some guy's backyard. But even more unnerving was how many glowing second-story apartment windows I could count from the shower area. If I could see them now, that meant they could all see any of us taking a shower during the day. I shivered at the thought then tried to push it from my mind.
I dressed for bed in boxers and a clean tee shirt and hung the towel next to Lucy's dress. Then it was my turn to brush my teeth. It was still warm even after the sun went down. That was a good thing, since Mr. Unger had not given us any blankets or bedding. I briefly considered sleeping in the hammock like I had seen on TV shows, but ultimately chose to stick to the cot.
As I lay there, I mused about all the fun things I had experienced that day. But even with all the new experiences, the most fun part had been making Lucy fly naked. I got turned on thinking back at the scene her bare body had made in that airline seat. She had blushed so hard when she saw that boy staring at her! And when she had been forced to spread for our traveling companions and reveal everything in between her legs...
I felt a throbbing need growing between my own legs. If I had been somewhere more private, I would have taken care of it. But laying there with my mom and sister in cots just to my left, I was too embarrassed to play with myself and risk getting caught. I did reach into my shorts, just to check on things down there, and gasped. It felt so good that I couldn't let go. Slowly and silently moving my hand up and down, I began to wonder, if I stayed super quiet, maybe I could-
"Mikey," a quiet whisper interrupted my efforts, "I'm cold, can I sleep with you?"
She always hated the cold. Even though it wasn't very cold yet, still the upper sixties, I did already miss the warmth of the bonfire. And the temperature was likely to keep dropping all night long. For my own sake as well as hers, extracting my hand from my complaining member, I said "yes" and moved over to make room on the cot.
The bed was not meant for two people, and it was a tight fit. Even if we wanted to keep separate, the sag in the middle kept pulling us back together. Lucy was perfectly fine with that. She snuggled up as close as she could in a spoon shape with every part of her pressed against me from head to toe. I didn’t complain. After all, sharing body heat was the whole point of coming over to my bed in the first place. But stuck in just a too-short tee shirt with nothing underneath, quite a lot of her skin was making direct contact to mine. Before long she was happily snoring away in my warm embrace.
Trying to ignore the naked bottom pressing firmly against the front of my boxers, I wondered how I was going to endure it. I was as hard as a diamond down there and would need to get some relief eventually. With a monumental effort, I forced myself to think of something else. And somehow, the day's excitement caught up to me eventually and sleep overtook.
I awoke first the next morning, still as rock-hard on day two as I had ended day one, and immediately began scheming. Yesterday was a nice preview, but today was when the real fun would begin!