Bikini Beach Summer Fun
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A Bikini Beach Summer, Part 02 free porn video
A Bikini Beach Summer
by Daphne Xu
Part 2
Daily Routine
Thanks to ElrodW, Bikini Beach's creator, for invaluable comments on this
story. The Bikini Beach universe and its principal characters are
copyright 2001 by him.
Any comments about Bikini Beach, how it works, what it does, by
characters other than Anya or Grandmother are potentially non-canonical
and wrong. As this story is told from a particular point of view by the
protagonist, this includes comments by the narrator. The protagonist,
and thus the narrative, are what the protagonist believes or interprets
from what he is experiencing. Thus some of the mechanics of BB are
biased by the protagonist's view and experiences. Furthermore, because
of the particular viewpoint of the story, those errors often won't be
corrected. When the errors are corrected, the correction will often be
disbelieved and rejected.
Sunday, June 22
"Luke, rise and shine! Time to get up!" That was Pa calling me awake.
It was Sunday morning, and that meant Sunday School and Church. I
groaned and turned over, cringing at the agonizing pain and dryness
covering my upper body. I'd burnt myself pretty badly at Bikini Beach
yesterday.
I'd slept very well last night, only vaguely recalling awakening from
some kind of dream about having to go -- really having to go badly --
really really badly -- and finding progressively more bizarre and more
public places to try -- such as a floor-urinal on a grimy bathroom floor
next to a long table in a banquet hall -- in my dream, I told myself that
this time, I was fully awake and I'd really pee for sure. Ma was
standing next to me, as I began to pee. Finally, I awoke in truth,
stumbled out of bed, across the hallway into the bathroom, relieved
myself, and returned to bed.
At least I hadn't wet my bed.
I glanced at the clock and found that it was already 8:30. How long had I
slept?
It took me a good minute to slither out of bed. When I took off my
pajamas, I noticed how dark pink my body was, except for my usual pale
pink from my waist down to just above my knees, where my swimming trunks
covered.
I slipped into a bathrobe to take my Sunday morning shower. As I crossed
over to the bathroom, Ma handed me some lotion. "Use this for your
sunburn, when you finish showering."
I didn't take too long in the shower. My sunburn was hurting above my
waist. Warm water and cool water, both felt distinctly uncomfortable on
my sunburn.
I dried off, and slimed Ma's goo over my sunburnt body. It made things
feel a little better, although the sliminess itself was uncomfortable. I
put the bathrobe back on, and stepped back into my room. I heard vague
sounds through the wall of Ma and Ruth arguing. I didn't want to know
anything about Ruth being disciplined; I tuned it out the best I could.
Sunburn aside, yesterday at Bikini Beach had been a most wonderful
experience. The rides themselves were fun, but apart from those, a group
of girls had taken me in and accepted me as one of their own almost
immediately. I couldn't forget how bikini-clad Vanessa had hugged me in
front of Ma and Ruth, to my major embarrassment. But all four of them
were fun and exciting, and made everything at Bikini Beach all the more
enjoyable.
After hesitating a few minutes, I put on my Sunday Suit. The sunburn
lotion made my suit even more uncomfortable than usual. Always tight
about my thighs and hips, the suit now felt cold and clammy as well.
I met Ruth and Ma in the hallway. Ma was saying to Ruth, "... proper
dress for a church-going young girl."
"Yeah," I agreed. "You look great, kiddo." Indeed she did, in a plain
bright-yellow knee-length dress with puffy short sleeves, white socks,
and black shoes.
"Who are you calling Kiddo, Kiddo?" asked Ruth.
Ruth calling me Kiddo? That was a new one. "You may recall I am five
years older than you and a foot taller," I said with a sniff.
Pa had cooked breakfast this morning: scrambled eggs and toast. Pa was
the best at scrambling eggs, without question.
The four of us were sitting and eating at the breakfast table, and I was
thinking about my day yesterday at Bikini Beach. How had I ever got
caught up playing with four girls all day about my age? For the most
part, they treated me as one of the girls. It was a cozy feeling how
readily they hugged each other, and me as well. A couple things I
remembered with considerable embarrassment -- introducing bikini-clad
girls to Ma, being hugged in front of Ma, and a certain case where I'd
reacted badly to a prank.
"Sit still, Ruth." Pa's admonition brought me out of my reverie.
"You have no idea how creepy this feels -- almost like an itch down
there."
"Young lady, such topics are inappropriate at breakfast, and
inappropriate in the presence of boys and men," said Ma.
I blushed furiously, and glanced over at Ruth blushing with equal
ferocity. Her face was almost burning.
"Children, Erin," said Pa. "That is aggressive mental suggestion. Mrs.
Eddy tells us that we must defend ourselves daily against aggressive
mental suggestion." That admonition was one we heard every morning as
part of the Mental Work.
"That reminds me," said Ma. She got up and retrieved the cassette player
from the living room and turned it on to play the Mental Work. I spent
the rest of breakfast in bored silence with the Mental Work sounding in
the background.
Ma and Pa dropped us off at the church for Sunday School. They would
return an hour later, and we would attend church services together as a
family.
The first hymn was very familiar, by Mrs. Eddy herself: "Shepherd Show Me
How to Go." I didn't even have to read it from the hymnal. When the
Superintendent read this week's lesson-sermon subject, "Is the Universe,
Including Man, Evolved by Atomic Force?" my silent reaction was the same
as it had been every day this past week when we listened to the lesson on
cassette -- "HUH?!?" During the week, I'd absently wondering what in
heck these Bible verses had to do with atomic force. But as I absently
recited the Golden Text and the Responsive Reading, I was preoccupied
with the previous day's fun at Bikini Beach.
My Sunday School class had three of us students, sitting with the teacher
around a small table. One was a boy about two years older than me. The
other was a girl about one year younger than me. The teacher spoke out
against "material intellectualism." It was important not to explain
matter, but to deny matter as illusion of the material senses. "The sun
gives you a nice tan, and supposedly supports life through plants. Yet
too much sun can hurt and kill you! See how inconsistent and illogical
matter is?" Only the good was real.
I couldn't identify anything specifically wrong with the teacher's
argument, but somehow, it didn't sound quite right. I just couldn't
articulate why.
"Material senses are but illusion," the teacher continued. "We look
around, we see the world is flat. Our material senses do not tell us
that the world is round." I imagined a ball 8000 miles across, and what
it would look like to someone our size on the ball. It seemed to me it
would automatically look flat. But I didn't know how to articulate it in
class. "Human theories change all the time. Only God's Law is eternal,
and therefore real." "Years ago, they thought that man was made from the
dust of the ground. Now, human theories tell us that man comes from
Atomic Force."
Overall, Sunday School was boring, and I was relieved when it was time to
return to the front of the room for the second and final hymn and the
Scientific Statement of Being: "There is no Life, Truth, Intelligence, or
Substance in matter...."
Sunday School was over, a rather boring waste of an hour, that went on
forever. I really should be more interested in learning about Christian
Science, but I just couldn't. God would perhaps, in His own good time
lead me to Him.
We had a little time to wait for Ma and Pa to arrive for Church services.
I normally waited alone on one of the benches in the church hall, while
Ruth chatted with other girls. But this time, Ruth joined me on the
bench.
We sat in silence for a couple minutes. Then she said, "You know what
Mrs. Vancourt said?" I looked at her. "She asked, `You know what
supports the earth, keeps it in its path around the sun? It's not
inertia.' I answered that inertia kept it going, and the sun exerted the
gravitational force to pull it in a little, to keep it going around the
sun instead of flying off." It was strange hearing Ruth talk like that.
She continued, "The teacher then pointedly said that material theories
are counterfeits of God's Law. `God is the only true Force, the only
true Power.'"
I couldn't think of anything to say. I felt a bit angry at Ruth's
teacher, since I liked astronomy -- frustrated, too because I felt like I
couldn't think straight. It just sounded wrong. I also wondered at Ruth
knowing this about the subject.
Ma and Pa showed up shortly. Apparently, Ma talked with Ruth's Sunday
School teacher before joining us, because she called Ruth over. I
overheard part of Ma's scolding of Ruth. "A child does not correct her
elders." "You are here to learn about Christian Science, not debate your
teachers." There was a lot more. I felt sorry for Ruth, and strangely
bitter at Ma.
The service began shortly, with a hymn vaguely familiar. The First
Reader then began his Scriptural Selection of readings from the Bible.
Normally, I sat squirming in boredom, but now I let my mind wander over
yesterday's events at Bikini Beach. Thinking about it, I was truly
amazed -- how did I ever get involved with four bikini-clad (okay, only
three of them bikini-clad) hot, very friendly, very nice girls, spending
the good part of a day with them? How quickly they accepted me as one of
their own.
I let my hymnal cover my crotch, opened to the second hymn, as my hard
dick was pushing up my pants in a tent. The tightness of my suit tended
to reduce the visible effect, but still. I hoped nobody noticed how I
was flushing.
The first reader announced the "Moment of silent prayer, followed by the
audible repetition of the Lord's Prayer with its spiritual interpretation
as given in the Christian Science textbook." I kept thinking of the
girls rough-housing and playing around, hugging, until the Second Reader
opened with, "Our Father, which art in Heaven," and I automatically
joined in with the rest of the congregation.
Then came the second hymn, various notices and announcements, and a
soloist singing one of Mrs. Eddy's hymns. The words were familiar, but
the melody utterly strange, especially as sung in an operatic voice.
Then came the Lesson-Sermon, read alternately by the Second Reader (the
Bible) and the First Reader ("Science and Health"). Again, we had to
participate in the Responsive Reading. I'd heard the Lesson every day at
home in the morning, along with the Mental Work -- or rather, the lesson
flowed over me every day the past week, and it did so now. It still
seemed to have absolutely nothing to do with "Atomic Force." I sat back
and day-dreamed more about Bikini Beach and the girls.
Mmmmm... hugging bikini-clad, practically naked girls, each of them
several times -- once in front of Ma even! How could I ever have done
that?! We weren't a hugging family, and I always froze when Grandma
wanted to hug -- mushy stuff. Now I was flaming with major
embarrassment. I glanced over at Ma, sitting motionless with eyes
closed, apparently concentrating on the Lesson. Ruth, sitting next to me
-- strange, she always sat next to Ma before -- also with eyes closed,
more relaxed. I couldn't tell if she was asleep. I was most glad Pa
never saw me hugging the girls.
One embarrassing incident could have been disastrous, but turned out
quite heartwarming. It happened when Becky caught me by surprise and
yanked my swimming trunks down -- the first time anyone saw me naked in
years -- girls in particular! I reacted furiously, causing Becky to
burst in tears. I tried to apologize, feeling terrible about it.
Vanessa saved the day.
"All right everyone, out of the pool!" Vanessa sounded like a stern
mother, and we complied immediately. "Group hug, everyone!" She
immediately gathered Carol and Becky in her arms. Alice came and
embraced me. I wound up hugging all of them individually and in groups,
including one massive huddle hug.
Becky was initially hesitant when it came to me. I repeated, "I'm truly
sorry, Becky. Really." We held each other at arms length for some time,
until she melted in my arms and pressed against me.
I still felt bad about that incident, but at least the girls had forgiven
me. The girls were all as touchy-feely with me as among themselves,
afterwards. I wondered what would have happened otherwise.
I came to when the music began for the collection. Pa reached over and
handed Ruth and me a dollar each. The collection-cap went by, and we
slipped the cash in. I saw Ma and Pa both contributing checks.
Finally, the third hymn was sung, the First Reader went through the final
short readings, and Church was over. At last!
But we still had to wait through Ma's mandatory socialization, chatting
with fellow women at church. She called us over and introduced herself
and us to some new-comer. "This is my husband, Daniel Cuttington. And
these are my children -- my son Luke -- he's fourteen now -- and my
daughter Ruth -- she's nine."
Additionally, a middle-aged man whom I recognized slightly from church
was here with a girl Ruth's age. This time, Ruth did the introductions.
Ruth went up and greeted her. "Hi, Beth."
"Hi, um -- I forget your name."
"That's okay. I'm Ruth, and this is my brother, Luke."
"Hi!" I said.
"Beth's visiting her grandpa for the summer, and she just started my
Sunday School class. Ma and Pa are over there."
"Ma, Pa. Just like the Little House on the Prairie!" Beth said,
laughing.
Ruth giggled, and I couldn't help laughing a little, even while sighing.
We often got that reaction.
But finally we got in the car. I was quite itching to get out of this
tight suit, especially with my sunburnt skin. Pa drove off.
On the way, Pa murmured to himself something about filling the tank. We
drove past a gas station, one we often used, but Pa didn't stop there. A
bunch of girls in bikinis, and a few guys also in swimsuits, were holding
a car-wash. The girls seemed about my age or somewhat younger, and they
were all in bikinis.
I held my head averted from them, not wanting my family to sense any
interest in looking at bikini-clad girls. Pa despised girls in bikinis,
and I sensed another rant coming up. I tried to close it out.
"Young girls these days, the way they dress up and expose themselves ...
the good old days ... clothing common streetwalkers would be ashamed to
be seen in ... unaware no doubt how they expose themselves ... the
entertainment industry ..." We didn't have a television set, except for
one in Pa's home office that we were never allowed in. "Don't let me
catch you in anything like that, Ruth. Shorts are okay for you now, but
when you're a couple years older, they'll only be appropriate for gym and
exercise." Pa ranted on some more, about the state of the world and
education these days.
Did Pa even know that we'd gone to a water park called Bikini Beach the
previous day? I had no idea what Ma told Pa, other than we were going
somewhere. Pa would have strenuously objected, had he known. Ma would
have won in the end, though.
We had Sunday Dinner at home. Unfortunately, Ma demanded that I stay
dressed up for Sunday Dinner. I had to stay in this uncomfortable suit,
and couldn't change into tee-shirt and jeans until afterwards.
I went to the library to spend the afternoon. Pa handed me a bunch of
books to return. I loved going to the library and reading there.
At the library, I made my way to an aisle in the adult section, where I
often frequented when I was by myself at the library. I picked out a
book discussing crime and criminal justice.
As usual, I burned in fury. I mean, how could they possibly think that
making a person confess to a crime proves that he did it? I kept
imagining myself in the back room of a police station while police
officers kept at me. Could I resist the pressure to confess?
Something happened many years ago. A woman had been raped and left for
dead in New York City's Central Park. It had been a case of black teens
going wilding. But years later, apparently after most were released
after serving their youth sentences, they were all exonerated through DNA
testing.
Someone else -- a serial killer -- had committed the crime. The police
had made the boys confess, interrogating them hours on end. I couldn't
imagine what they had gone through.
Finally, I couldn't stand the fury any more, and slipped the book back in
the shelf. I went to another shelf just a few feet away, near one
corner. I was feeling giddy and flushed as I looked both ways, not
seeing anyone in this aisle.
Here were books about sex. I pulled down a book called "Forbidden
Flowers" and opened at random. While reading some of the fantasies
there, I kept thinking about the girls at Bikini Beach and found myself
getting the most excited since I first looked at that book.
It was only when the library closed -- at four on Sundays -- that I
walked home. Pa had watched the baseball game in his office. That was
the only TV we had in our house, and only he and Ma were allowed to watch
it, most of the time. Ruth was up in her room, and Ma was cleaning up
something.
Monday, June 23
Like every morning, after breakfast we all had to listen to the Mental
Work. It was an old cassette recording of my great-grandma, with various
passages from the Bible, "Science and Health", and other works of Mrs.
Eddy. Mrs. Eddy had founded Christian Science over a century ago, so
what she had to say was pretty important.
But it was a boring ten minutes that went on forever. "Neither animosity
nor mere personal attachment shall impel the motives or acts ..." "It
shall be the duty of every member of this church to defend himself daily
against aggressive mental suggestion..." "What is God? God is
incorporeal, supreme, infinite, Mind, Spirit, Soul, Principle, Life,
Truth, Love" -- the Seven Synonyms of God everyone knew. "Animal
Magnetism, hypnotism, etc. are disarmed by the practitioner..." "The
mental malpractitioner is not, cannot be, a Christian Scientist. He is
disloyal to God and man; he has every opportunity to mislead the human
mind, and he uses it."
I noticed Ruth glaring at Ma. Both Ma and Pa seemed oblivious.
Of course, it wasn't the end when the Mental Work concluded. The Lesson-
Sermon for the week followed. Mondays, we had to tape-record it so that
we could listen the rest of the week. Ma and Pa recorded it together,
playing the First Reader and Second Reader.
I started by listening, but as usual fogged out, only picking out
isolated sentences: "And Jesus, when he came out, saw much people, and
was moved with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep not
having a shepherd..." "His proof of Christianity was no form or system
of religion and worship, but Christian Science, working out the harmony
of Life and Love." "We cannot build safely on false foundations."
"WINE. Inspiration; understanding. Error; fornication; temptation;
passion." I blushed at hearing that; I'd learned what fornication was
only a year or two ago. "For precept must be upon precept, precept upon
precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a
little..."
Eventually it was over -- finally! Pa went off to work, and I spent the
rest of the morning reading books I'd checked out yesterday.
But I had piano lessons at 11:30, a weekly event I always dreaded, and
then Taekwondo at 1:00. I changed into my TKD uniform at home; as I did,
I overheard Ruth complaining to Ma about ballet lessons, which she had
the same time as my TKD. "I can't let Luke see me dressed like that!" I
couldn't hear Ma's muffled reply, but I was puzzled. I always saw her in
her pink leotard and white tights when we walked home together
afterwards.
Hey, I even saw her in a red bikini at Bikini Beach last Saturday!
I gathered my piano music, and left the house to trudge off to the piano
lesson. It was simpler to wear my TKD uniform, than to carry it with me
to change when I reached the TKD dojang.
I arrived at Mrs. Prudence's house with time to spare, even though I
always slowed down as I got closer and closer, and my stomach sank lower
and lower. I practiced a few punches and kicks while waiting outside.
Eventually, the door opened and Mrs. Prudence's previous student came out
-- "Hi," we greeted each other -- and I nervously entered. Mrs. Prudence
was such a scold, although she seemed nicer now -- perhaps since I began
TKD this summer? Or since I began wearing my uniform to lessons? I
wasn't sure.
"Hello, Luke," she greeted me, ignoring my TKD uniform as usual.
"Hello, Mrs. Prudence."
At the piano, I stretched and exercised my fingers, and the lesson began.
We did scales and arpeggios, and I had three pieces to learn and a fourth
to memorize. It seemed that I was doing considerably better this summer,
perhaps because she was being nicer.
But still -- "Turn your thumb under just when you play the note!" "No,
no, that's sharped!" She rapidly wrote in the sharp next to the note.
"No, use your *third* finger. Obey the marked fingerings!"
After the lesson ended, I walked the half-mile to the TKD dojang at the
mall. TKD was more fun, as we practiced various punches and kicks, and
even sparred together. We practiced roundhouse kicking against huge bags
hanging from the ceiling. I'd thought it would seriously hurt when I
first saw the instructor a month ago kicking the bag hard over a month
ago, but it really doesn't.
TKD was in the same shopping center as Ruth's ballet, so I had to meet
her after class and walk home with her. As I approached, a bunch of
girls with a couple boys among them emerged, variously dressed --
leotards, tights, jeans, shorts, dresses, skirts.
Ruth was one of the last to emerge. She was in her usual pink leotard
and white tights, but additionally wore a pink wrap-around skirt. She
came out very slowly and stopped and blushed as pink as her leotard, and
looked down when I called her. Very strange. Usually, she came out
chattering with the other girls and guys. But now, I got the sense that
she felt herself at the bottom of her world, utterly defeated.
"Hey, Kiddo." She let me take her hand, and we slowly descended the
stairs to ground level. "What's wrong? Did something happen in ballet?"
She kept her face down, not looking at me. "I found that I remembered
everything and understood everything."
"Well, yeah. You've done ballet for, like, two years? You're pretty
good."
We walked in silence, exiting the mall and turning onto the street that
led home.
"You really don't remember, do you, Luke?" Ruth asked.
"Uh, no. I don't understand." I really was puzzled. Ruth was getting
really strange there, almost adult-like even. What on earth was she
getting at?
"You don't remember -- Ru, ru, puh, p-p-Pater?" It seemed that she
choked up on the word, and finally pronounced it the German way.
"You mean Peter?" There was a Peter in a couple of my classes last year
in eighth grade, and a couple other Peters here and there. "A classmate
of your?" It occurred to me to needle her about having a boyfriend, but
then I sensed it wouldn't be a good thing to do.
"You really don't remember."
"Tell me, what should I remember?"
"You don't remember your little sister?"
Huh???
"Arrgh!!" Ruth pulled from my clasp suddenly, and ran off. I gave
chase, but she was surprisingly as fast as me. I never knew she could
run so fast.
"Ruth, wait up! Ruth!"
Continuing to run, she yelled out, "Mental malpractice! Animal
magnetism, hypnotism, and so forth!" Gads, she was taking the Mental
Work talk of mental malpractice too seriously. I wound up chasing her
all the way home.
She ran right into the house, and up to her room.
Ma was out somewhere, probably shopping. Pa was at work of course. Ruth
stayed in her room, coming out only to shower, even refusing to come
downstairs when her best friend Daisy came over to play.
Daisy went up to Ruth's bedroom, then came back down in tears. "Daisy!"
I exclaimed. I don't think we'd spoken five words together in the past;
I mostly ignored her as Ruth's friend. But I couldn't bear to see her
like that. "What happened?"
"Ruth just told me to go away! What did I do?" Daisy bawled.
"I'm so sorry. Ruth's been mad a lot lately. Would you like to do
something with me, play a game perhaps?" I wasn't sure she'd like
anything I did, or I'd like anything she did, but I felt I had to try. I
handed her a Kleenex to wipe her eyes, and she blew her nose.
"Thanks, Luke. I'd like that." We wound up downstairs in the basement
playroom playing Sorry, a children's board game that was still
interesting. Daisy was beating me hands down on our first game, when
Ruth came down, her face drawn from crying.
"I'm so very very sorry, Daisy. I was just bitchy and nasty; I'm very
sorry." The two girls hugged, and both began crying again. I felt a bit
like crying myself.
Eventually, we got back to the game. Ruth stayed and watched while Daisy
got her four pieces into Home. Afterwards, the three of us played a
second game.
We were still playing when it was time for dinner. Daisy called home and
got permission to stay. Ma made Ruth go upstairs and change into a
dress. It seemed unfair, as I was allowed to wear jeans. In fact, I
thought of changing into slacks myself, but I wimped out. From the
expression on Daisy's face, she thought it was unfair too.
After dinner, I practiced the piano for half an hour; then the three of
us played another game until Daisy had to go home for the night and Ruth
had to go to bed. I went to bed at the same time, feeling elated and
surprised that I could have such a fun time with my little sister and her
best friend.
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