Life after Bikini Beach
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Life After Bikini Beach: Chapter 2 free porn video
Life After Bikini Beach: Chapter 2
Mike and I pretended our trip to Bikini Beach had never happened for the
next month. We started fall football practice, continued to do normal
"guy" things like play Madden Football and Call to Duty, check out hot
chicks at the mall, and go to high school parties. The truth is, however,
I had not forgotten in the least. I kept having a recurring fantasy of
meeting sexy little Tasha in real life. I know it was crazy, but the girls
I kept seeing in real life didn't possess a one tenth of her sex appeal.
In short, I wanted to fuck myself.
Of course, I couldn't really think of Tasha as "myself". After a month,
that whole Bikini Beach experience seemed surreal--like a movie I had
watched some time ago with the images of the "hot girl" stuck inside my
head. Tasha memories became mixed with visions of Kate Upton, Katie Perry,
Mila Kunis, Teresa Palmer and Selena Gomez as unobtainable dream girls
that I nevertheless could not help but keep hoping to encounter in real
life.
I was not the only one that wanted to see Tasha again. Right after we went
back to school, Mike and I were sitting around Mike's room grousing about
not having dates to the first school dance. We could go stag and hope to
meet girls, but trolling the overfished pool of girls we went to school
with held little appeal. We wanted to meet someone new and fresh. Mostly
we wanted to meet a girl like the ones we saw in movies or on the
internet, and not their remote echoes that walked around our school.
While after we had finished a round of Call to Duty, Mike says, "There's
an easy way to get a hot date."
"What's that?"
"One of us could go to Bikini Beach."
I sort of presumed that by "one of us", Mike meant me. I couldn't blame
him. Tasha was...damn. Tasha was a walking sex crime.
I stared back at him. I offered, "Michelle was pretty cute. I'd love to
take her out."
Mike grinned and wagged a finger at me. "We'll flip for it." He pulled out
a decorative coin from his top desk drawer and said,"Head or tails?"
I glared distrustfully at him. I opened his hand and took out the coin. I
made sure there were two sides, and handed it back to him.
"Do you agree? The loser will go to Bikini Beach tomorrow after school?"
Reluctantly, I nodded. "Okay."
Mike added, "And the loser has to wear a dress and makeup. None of this
looking like a nun crap."
I laughed. "Yeah. The dress had to come above the knees. And heels.
Michelle has great legs. I don't want you hiding them when I pick you up
tomorrow."
Mike flipped the coin in the air and I called, "Heads."
He extended his hand to catch it and I blocked his wrist. The coin clanged
on the ground.
It was tails.
Mike aimed a Chesire Cat grin in my direction. He looked me up and down as
if Tasha were already present in the room.
"Tasha, it is!" he exulted.
I wanted to grunt a manly "Fuck!", but then reconsidered. I didn't want
Mike taking that as a promise. Not that he wasn't thinking it already.
Hell, I wanted to fuck Tasha, and I had only seen her in a mirror --and the
fog of memory. Mike was going to see the living, breathing version of her.
If I knew Mike, he'd probably be whacking off to Michelle's memory of
Tasha the minute I left.
I left his house and drove home without a word. Tomorrow, I would go on a
date. As Tasha. Part of me really, really looked forward to seeing her
again. But, that little corner of my mind was overwhelmed by the part
screaming that I would have to put up with not only Mike, but every horny
guy in the whole damn school.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
I just have to make sure nothing gets into me.
That was just hyperbolic bitching. I knew there was no way I'd let Mike,
or any other guy, do any of the things that would certainly be percolating
in their dirty little minds.
* * *
School the next day felt like I was on death row, waiting for the guards
to come strap me down to the injection chair. I could not help but watch
the girls all day. I saw them carrying their purses, greeting each other
with hugs, and wearing their shorts. Most of them wore some kind of
jewelry: earrings, necklaces, bracelets--something. I can't think of one
that I saw completely unadorned. I saw them refresh their makeup between
classes. I could not imagine being one of them in a few hours.
I saw banners around the school reminding everyone of the dance tonight. I
heard girls talk about what they would wear. I wondered how many of them
would have sex with their boyfriends tonight. Everyone knew it happened.
Heck, there were two girls walking around pregnant right now.
I shuddered. If I got pregnant, I would be a girl forever. Can you blame
me for being terrified?
Mike surprised me by refraining from gloating the entire day. I had
expected him to be giving me covert shit at every opportunity. Why he
didn't, I couldn't guess. Maybe it was more fun watching me wait for
taunts that never came. But, Mike make a point of NOT leering at girls, or
talking about which ones he thought were hot, or talking about sex. All of
those would be innuendos with what was going to happen tonight--and he
graciously avoided all of them.
What's up with that?
I didn't know, but I wasn't any less terrified. Yes, I was afraid. I would
not have admitted it to anyone, but, yeah. But, looking back on it now, I
can freely admit I that I was scared out of my mind. My heart was
pounding. I had to expend tremendous self-control to breathe calm and
even. I didn't want Mike, or anyone else to know what I was feeling. That
would only make things worse.
When school let out, Mike caught me going out the door. "Would you like me
to give you a ride to Bikini Beach?"
"Why?"
"Well, I thought the whole changing thing might freak you out a bit. You
might be a little too distracted to drive 90 miles right away."
"You did it."
He winced. I guess he didn't want to be reminded of his time as Michelle.
He visibly gave up. "I'll pick you up for the dance at seven."
He turned and walked off toward his Mustang.
* * *
About an hour and half later I walked up to the booth at Bikini Beach. I
could see Selene behind the glass once again as I approached and asked for
a one-day pass. She smirked up at me.
"You lost a bet."
"That's freaky."
"I wanted you to know that I knew. Don't worry about it, Ryan. More guys
than you think try out their alter egos after they discover Bikini Beach.
Curiosity in normal. Most of them lose interest after the novelty wears
off."
She winked, "A number find that they have very happy girlfriends
afterwards."
Now resigned to my fate, I take the pass and head for the men's locker
room.
* * *
My mother is waiting for me when I come home.
"It's about time you showed up missy. Why didn't you call?"
I opened and closed my mouth in a repeating cycle. Finally, I said, "Cheer
practice ran late. I was too busy to think about calling."
"You mean you were gabbing with your girls, don't you?" She gave a
resigned sigh. "You need to think next time."
My mom would not have been nearly as protective as Ryan--but then again,
Ryan wasn't a boy-magnet like Tasha. That's when I knew I had to tell her.
"Mom, I need to get ready. I'm going to the dance tonight."
"We need to talk about this. You don't need to go to the dance."
"Ummm....he's picking me up at seven."
"Who?"
"Mike. Mike Gordon."
My mom didn't look too happy, but she said, "I want to meet him first."
I could feel Tasha' s frustration building in my brain. The funny thing
was, the "Ryan" part of me understood her attitude. Tasha definitely
needed protection. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out a way to be the
one to provide that necessary service.
I nodded. My Tasha memories told me that this condition was non-
negotiable.
"And you have to show me what you're wearing before you leave."
I went up to my room like a death row inmate taking the final stroll down
the cell block. I don't know what had possessed me to stipulate the loser
had to wear a dress that came above the knee along with heels. I would
now have to wear those clothes in a body would scream sex while wearing a
gunny sack. I needed to make it look worse, not better.
When I got back to my room, I shuddered at the girly-girl ambiance. My
Tasha memory told me that she had made a conscious decision to heighten
her femininity by changing her own personal space. She hoped to become
more like the actresses she admired by osmosis. On my makeup mirror, Tasha
had pasted facial shots of Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, and Selena
Gomez--all small, dark-haired actresses who oozed sex appeal. I tried to
ignore the canopy bed with the lacy white comforter, the hello kitty
posters on the walls, and the profusion of stuffed animals scattered
across the room.
I spent over an hour trying to find something that would fit the
requirements of the bet, but would be conservative as possible. I started
with a plain white bra and cotton panties. Nothing lacy underneath for me!
But, as I looked in the mirror, I realized my efforts made little
difference. Even in plain undergarments, Sasha's lightly tanned body could
not help but be dead sexy.
I finally settled upon a sleeveless white dress with blue polka dots. It
had a high neckline and a skirt that fell just above the knee while
flaring outward from my waist. I added a pair of blue pumps and a matching
white purse. I wore blue star earrings and added a blue bracelet. Tasha's
memory told me they were a set. As for makeup, I used a little mascara on
my lashes and lipstick that was fairly close to my natural lip color.
Tasha's memory almost compelled me to smooth out my complexion with
foundation and to add eyeliner.
As I transferred the contents of my day-purse to the white one that
matched my outfit, I saw the round pink container that held Tasha's birth
control pills. Tasha was a virgin, but her mother had insisted she start
on birth control to when Tasha can complained about uneven periods at her
last physical. Tasha suspected her mother had been eager to embrace the
chemical help for obvious reasons: she didn't want her daughter to get
pregnant.
I checked to make sure Tasha had taken today's pill. I had.
I'm a daughter. That's just freaky.
My mother walked into my rooms for my outfit inspection. She looked me up
and down with a critical eye and said, "You must like him."
I stayed silent. However, I could tell she took my silence as
confirmation.
Finally, my mom nodded her approval. "Good job, Tasha. This ensemble is
attractive without being revealing. You're learning."
I would be well on the "dressy" side for a school dance, though I knew a
number of girls would be wearing something similar--especially from the
cheerleader set. Some people would wear jeans and a t-shirt.
Mike appeared at my door twenty minutes later. He wore a pale yellow
button-down shirt, tan dress pants and loafers--which was actually dressing
up versus the norm for one of our school dances. My Tasha brain considered
him quite attractive. He was tall, fit, and athletic with thick brown
hair. I shut down that line of thought immediately.
My mom kept me upstairs while my dad chatted with Mike. I couldn't believe
they were giving Mike the 3rd degree, but was grateful for the delay. When
I walked down the stairs, the shocked look in his eyes gave way to a sort
of satisfied gleam.
"Ready to go, Tasha?"
I nodded.
Once outside the door, I said, "Mike, you perv, stop looking at me like
that."
"Like what."
"Like you just won the lottery."
He laughed. "I won the bet, ya know. To the victor goes the spoils."
"Don't even think it."
He opened the passenger door to his Mustang and reached out to take my
hand to "help" me into the car. I pointedly ignored his grasping paw and
plopped down on the seat by myself. I purposefully fought against my
"Tasha" instincts because I had no desire to display feminine grace for
Mike. That would just emphasize his victory.
My dress, however, did force me to keep my knees together in a very
ladylike pose as we rode to school. I wasn't about to sprawl like a guy
and put myself on even more display than I already was in my dress and
heels.
We walking into the school gym now decorated with streamers with bunting
along the walls. Shellie Grayson, Melanie Stone, and Laurie Davies waved
at me. We were all on the cheer squad together. I greeted the three with
hugs, and they responded with waves at Mike.
Shellie asked, "Are you excited about your first game as a cheerleader
next week?"
I answered with a wide smile, "Of course I am! I just hope I don't mess
up."
Melanie replied, "Try not to think about it too much. Try to tell yourself
it's another practice, and you'll do great."
Little did they know that I would be playing in the game rather than doing
cheer routines on the sidelines with the squad. However, it suddenly
occurred to me that I should keep them talking. Maybe I'd learn something
that would give me an in toward dating one of them.
Mike left to get punch and the conversation abruptly shifted to him.
Laurie practically drooled at Mike's backside. "Good job, girl. Mike
Gordon is....yum!"
Melanie added, "You do know that Steph is jealous, right? She wanted to
fuck him all last year."
Last year, Mike had dated the marginally cute Emily Rogers, mostly because
of the sex. He claimed that she was "very imaginative" and would do
"everything in the book". Mike had gotten tired of her by spring. He said
she was unbelievably needy and he couldn't take it any more. Apparently,
Steph was still interested. She was a large-boned cheerleader who was
nevertheless fit. She had made the team due to her ability to hold up as a
solid base in our stunts.
I answered, "Nothing I can do about that."
The three girls tittered. Shellie then blurted, "Listen to Little Miss
Innocent. I'm sure you'll be overwhelmed with sorrow when he sticks his
tongue down your throat."
Everyone laughed.
Mike walked back into hearing range and the conversation dissolved into
amused giggles. He handed me a paper cup with punch, took a sip from his
own drink and then asked, "What are you ladies talking about?"
Laurie stood up straight to all of her 5'3" inches and looked up at him
for a moment before she replied, "Calculus. We were trying to figure out
the homework problem Mr. Noll gave us."
Mike aimed a skeptical look at her. He swept his gaze over the rest of us
and was confronted by four straight faces. He answered, "Isn't that why
you cheerleaders wear sandals to class? So you can use your toes to
count?"
Shellie looked a little pissed off at this condescending answer, but the
expression disappeared by the time Mike glanced in her direction. Everyone
knew he was trying to be funny, but--even as a joke--the taunt came across
as irritating.
No wonder Mike ends up with girls like Emily Rogers.
I stuck that in my brain for future reference. I intended to give him some
feedback after I returned to being Ryan.
Maybe that's what Selene meant by us being "better off". Michelle is damn
well coming to the next dance with Ryan. I need all the help I can get.
Just then I noticed Jen with the Jason Peters, who was wearing jeans and
baggy World of Warcraft T-shirt on his gawky frame. Jen had done up her
long brown hair in big spiral curls in an attempt to draw attention to her
hairstyle rather than her blocky body. Tammy was also hanging with them,
apparently without a date. Jen saw me, but she seemed reluctant to
approach me while I was with my cheer squad friends. She waved at me and I
gave a quick smile in return.
We finished our punch and Mike extended his hand and said, "Time to
dance."
I'd have liked to turn him down, but couldn't figure out a way to do so
that would not require a long explanation to my girls. Ignoring his open
hand was probably pushing it, but I wasn't gonna hand hold with him. I
pretended I didn't see his offer and hurried to the center of the floor.
Just as we started to move, I realized that I shouldn't care about what
the cheer squad thinks. It's not like I'd have to deal with rhe issue
tomorrow at school. Tasha would have disappeared back into la la land.
Dancing as Tasha was a bit of a problem. I could let the body go on
autopilot, but Tasha was WAY too attracted to Mike. I was afraid if I let
Tasha have her way, she'd engage in dance floor seduction rather than
keeping her distance. Cutting off the autopilot, left me trying to dance
in kitten heels and a dress.
I ended up merely swaying back and forth with my feet firmly planted on
the ground. I waved my arms a lot. I got away with it due to the crowded
floor which left little room for anyone to dance.
When a slow number played I headed for the sidelines. I wasn't about to
dance to one of those numbers with Mike. I quickly found an empty table
and claimed it. I automatically smoothed my skirt before I sat and crossed
my legs at the knee. Looking around at the other girls, I pretty much HAD
to sit that way. When Mike saw me, he couldn't help but grin.
"Having a good time, Tasha?"
"Shut up."
"Don't be such a bitch, buddy. I've been a perfect gentleman."
"Hmmph. I know better."
Mike laughed. "Thinking isn't a crime, Tasha."
I whispered, "No one else is in hearing range. You can use my real name."
For the first time since he picked me up, Mike's shit-eating grin slipped.
"I tried. But, every time it just comes out as Tasha. I suppose its part
of the magic."
Before I could answer, Steve Foreman and Jeff Helgenberger plopped down at
our table and said to Mike, "What's up buddy?"
Steve looked over at me and says, "Hey, Tasha."
Without much enthusiasm, I answered, "Hi."
Steve pulled a flask out of his baggy pants and poured something into the
punch. "Want some?"
Mike extended his cup for a fill-up but I shook my head.
Steve treated me with a scornful glare, "Loosen up, Tasha! It's only
vodka. One drink won't kill you."
Yeah. Little did Steve know that I shared a locker room with him and Jeff.
I darn well knew he had Everclear in that flask. Steve was doing Mike a
"favor" by getting me more tipsy than I expected. Funny how his "favor"
seemed far less clever when I was on the receiving end of it.
What's next, Steve? Rohypnol?
"Fuck off, asshole."
Steve now looked genuinely pissed. "Holy crap, what crawled up your twat
and died? I was just trying to be friendly."
Mike immediately intervened, "Shut up, Steve. You can't talk to my date
like that."
My Tasha self felt a wave of gratitude for Mike's ready defense, but my
Ryan self immediately picked up how Mike had perceived the tirade as
disrespect for him--not her.
Mike stared at Steve and Jeff for a long time before they stood up and
walked away from our table.
I said, "I think I'd rather be dancing."
Mike simply said, "Okay. Let's go."
This time I made my way to a knot of girls from the cheer squad who stood
dancing with each other in a large circle. A few guys latched onto the
fringes, but the central group was clearly us girls. I couldn't help but
feel a little safer with more of my own kind around.
The Tasha inside my brain could not help but notice the predator looks my
fellow cheerleaders gave Mike. He had been named defensive team captain.
As a strong safety, Mike had a nice combination of height and muscularity
without looking bestial.
Is there any safe place in this blasted dance?
The moment I realized what I had just thought, I stopped dancing. I
couldn't believe I'd had a possessive thought about Mike. I reluctantly
started moving again when the other girls shot questioning looks at me.
Dancing is something most cheerleaders LOVED to do, so I couldn't just
sway back and forth. However, since the company of my peers would restrain
her, I let loose my inner Tasha.
Tasha really had some skills. She had natural rhythm (as did Ryan) and a
gymnast's athleticism. Even in heels (which Tasha very well knew how to
handle) she really put on a show.
Eventually the inevitable happened. The cheer captain Kim Parsons
announced, "Ladies, we're going to the bathroom." I should have known that
was ooming. What was a school dance without a bathroom pow-wow in the
girls room.
I kept dancing, but Shellie grabbed my hand and pulled me after the five
other cheer squad members. Once inside the segregated privacy of the
bathroom, Shellie asked, "Is he the one?"
Shellie didn't mean "the one" I would marry. My Tasha memories told me I
had told some of the girls at cheer practice that I was looking for a
"good candidate" to help me lose my virginity. My mom pushing me to get on
birth control had knocked down the last of my resistance.
"Not on the first date!"
Shellie refreshed her mascara as we waited for Kim and Laurie to emerge
from their stalls. Meanwhile, Melanie filed one of her fingernails that
had snagged on something during the night. I knew it would seem odd if I
did nothing, I let Tasha take care of my face. She pulled out some blush
from our purse and applied it to my cheekbones with a well-used makeup
brush. This time, she used an eyeliner pencil to bring out my lashes.
"I didn't mean tonight, silly. I meant is he the guy at the top of the
list."
I sure as hell didn't want to see Tasha's lineup of potential lovers
within my mind, so I simply nodded.
"You go girl. He's hot--even if he's stuck on himself."
I wanted to defend Mike. Mike was my bro, and he wasn't nearly as shallow
as these girls seemed to think--at least to me. But, then again, I had
known him since we were eight. We had thrown rocks at trains together,
played video games, and all kinds of backyard sports. Hell, we had made
wooden swords and shields in order to recreate the battle of the Pelenor
Fields. On the football field, he was cool under pressure and played
through the hardest hits.
Tasha, however, didn't know any of that. Mike had been someone she know
from school social events and weekend parties until. That is, he had been
until he had asked her to this dance.
"Aren't they all?"
Kim and Laurie stepped out of their stalls and chorused, "Girls rule...and
boys drool."
Every girl in the bathroom laughed. Melanie said, "It's your job to keep
him in his place. We're all counting on you."
It occurred to me that I might not be the only cheerleader interested in
having some fun with Mike.
Maybe this year, Mike will do better than Emily Rogers. Thought it doesn't
seem that a relationship is what they have in mind.
After a good ten to fifteen minutes in the bathroom, we returned to the
dance. Mike had already sat down at a table to wait for me. We returned to
the dance floor until it started to grow late. Eventually, I looked at my
watch and noticed the time was 10:35.
"Mike, my curfew is 11:00. We need to go."
He didn't look too happy, but I mentally tried to remind him that my pass
expired at midnight. He suddenly seemed to remember that fact and he
nodded. I guess he had no desire to see sexy Tasha turn into Ryan.
"Let's go."
We said our goodbyes to the girls and headed out to Mike's car. He opened
the door for me and this time I graciously accepted his assistance. When
he entered through the driver's door, he sat for a moment as if conducting
an internal debate. He turned to me and said, "You have to at least give
me a kiss."
"Are you kidding me?"
"One kiss."
"Not a chance."
He stuck his hands in his pockets and just sat there. He clearly had no
intention of starting the car, threatening me with missing my curfew if I
didn't give him a kiss.
Now I know why he didn't try when he dropped me off at home. I could just
run into the house if he tried to pull his blackmail in my driveway. Here,
he could refuse to start the car.
I shot out my arm with the intention of pulling his damn keys from his
pocket myself. As I lurched forward he instead met my mouth with his. I
stopped.
Well, it was Tasha that stopped, because I sure as hell didn't want to
kiss him. An electric surge ran through my body which caused me to act on
instinct: Tasha's instinct. A satisfied squeal escaped my mouth and Mike
exploited the opening by cupping my right breast with his big left palm. A
satisfied gasp escaped Tasha's pouty little mouth despite her lip-lock
with Mike. With that encouragement his right hand fell upon my bare right
knee and started to glide upwards. A warm tingle began to burn deep
between my soft thighs. They parted.
Meanwhile, Tasha's lips opened and Mike questing tongue thrust into my
mouth. While engaging in an aggressive french kiss, Mike's forefinger
pushed aside my panties and slid into my wet vagina.
I shrieked the moment his finger penetrated me. I could feel what must be
my clit throbbing to be rubbed until it was satisfied, but the shock put
Ryan back in control.
I bit down on his tongue.
Mike yelled, "You bitch! That hurt!"
"What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm not going to let you fuck
me, you pervert."
Suddenly, I was afraid. I was in Mike's car. He weighed twice what I did.
He could rape me right here--and it would be his word against mine. I
started to shake.
He let loose an anguished grunt and pulled back his hands from my body.
His lips retreated from mine as he sat up straight and dug out his keys.
"We need to get going. Sorry about that."
He drove me home in silence.
When he pulled into the driveway, I opened the door and tromped to my
house (yes I tromped in heels) without looking back. I stuck my right hand
down the front of my thigh, looking for my house keys, but encountered
nothing but the soft cotton of my skirt. Just then I remembered I had left
my purse in Mike's car and I had to sheepishly return. Thankfully, he
hadn't backed out yet, though he opened his mouth to say something when I
opened the door.
I grabbed my purse and slammed the door shut before he could say anything.
Moments later, I was safe inside my door.
Mom's voice called out from the kitchen, "Honey, how was your date?"
"Fine mom."
With that answer, I rushed up the stairs. I wanted to get to the safety of
my own bathroom before my mom got close enough to sniff my still wet
vagina. All during the ride home, my subversive womanhood had been urging
me to finish what Mike and I had started in the school parking lot.
God this is embarrassing.
I kicked off my shoes, yanked down the zipper to my dress and tossed it on
the bed. Dropping my purse on the floor, I bolted for the safety of my
bathroom and locked the door. I peeled off my bra and panties, not even
bothering to gape at Tasha's luscious naked body, and threw them in the
general direction of my clothes hamper. I grabbed a sterile wipe from the
container next to the sink and cleaned my vagina.
Drying myself with my bath towel, I wrapped it around me and lay on my
bed. My Tasha brain displayed a dildo she had hid at the bottom of her big
box of tampons. Apparently, Tasha wanted to sate her frustrations with
some self-induced orgasms.
Thankfully, I conked out before I could do anything I'd regret in the
morning.
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