Straight Female / 25
Fun In The Sun
Ten years ago.
I was fifteen and on holiday with my parents in Spain. I'd tried to get out of it, arguing that I was quite capable of looking after myself for two weeks. But they were having none of it. Finally, I was given two choices. Two weeks with Auntie Dora, I'd experienced Auntie Dora before, a weekend that seemed like a fortnight, or two weeks with my parents. So, very reluctantly. I opted for Spain.
My Dad is a creature of habit. He's been booking the same hotel, in the same Spanish resort, at the same time of year for as long as I can remember. The holiday never alters. One day at the pool the next at the beach.
Night time, was the worst time for me. I would sit with a coke. Mum and Dad knew most people in the bar and they would chat away, swopping stories, jokes that seemed, much to my embarrassment, to get more and more lewd as the night went on. It's sounds like I'm painting a picture of my parents as horrible people. But, you must realise that back then I was a rather snobbish, precocious, teenager who didn't want to be there. Looking back, they were just two people looking to have a good time on holiday.
Then one night in the bar something happened that I still cringe about too this day. The most gorgeous Spanish guy, think of a young version of Antonio Banderos and you're half-way there, came up to our table, smiled a lovely smile, and asked me to dance. My heart hammered in my chest, my hands shook. Of all the girls in that bar he had chosen me. I was ecstatic. I began to rise, shakily, to my feet when my Father spoke the fateful words, "She's only fifteen." I could have died. As this beautiful man disappeared into the crowd I just wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
Quite quickly Dad had discovered that sun beds and umbrellas were free at beach bars providing of course that you bought drinks or food, periodically. So, each day we would head down to the same bar. I was always rather uncomfortable because the bar owners sons, teenagers, seemed to be always staring at me when I was sun bathing. The bar had an outside shower, a timber frame embedded in the sand with corrugated iron sides and a crudely made, but lockable, door. Each other day I would use the shower to change into my bikini. Then, before heading back to the hotel, I would shower and put on my clothes. This is the start of my confession.
One day, probably into the second week, I was drying myself and about to get dressed when I noticed something, by sheer chance, embedded in the sand next to the water pipe that fed the shower. It was a black tube like thing. It would never normally have been visible but I guess the water had washed away some of the sand that partially covered it. I was curious and began to bend down to take a closer look. Then as I did so I suddenly realised what it was. I was mortified, it was a camera. I scrambled to my feet, but then I realised that I was stark naked. I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around myself and somehow got into my clothes while still covering myself with the towel. Outside, I was visibly shaken.
I knew straight away that it was the two Spanish lads. I was totally embarrassed and ashamed at what the pair of b*****ds might have seen. That night I couldn't stop thinking about it. My first reaction was that I wanted to go and confront them. However, my Mum would be calling the police if she found out. So, I thought the best plan was to simply not use the shower. I couldn't ask to go to a different beach bar because Dad would ask why. Then something altogether weird began to happen.
I began to get a kind of a buzz thinking about what those two lads may have seen. It turned me on. After all it wasn't my fault. I was completely innocent. The more I thought about it the more I got excited. The next time at the beach I did a very naughty thing. The camera had been covered over but I knew it was there. I was shaking like a leaf but I undressed, being careful not to look into the camera, I stood there naked. But, only for a few seconds before getting in to my bikini. I was more than a bit more daring after the beach. Stripping off and showering I was directly over the camera and it was incredibly exciting. You see I was the innocent party, I was doing nothing wrong, exposing myself like this I was the innocent nice girl not knowing that anyone was looking I could do almost anything. And I did.
Not then but the next time. I purposely turned my back to the shower I picked up my wet bikini. Wringing it out while still bending over. I was a late developer in the pubic hair department so whoever was looking must have had a pretty good view. My heart was running away and I was trembling. But, I had never been so incredibly turned on.
Then, the day before we were due to leave, I did the worst thing. Standing, completely naked, over the camera. I played with myself (there I've said it) my clit was slipping around like a wet piece of soap and I had my first, real. orgasm.
I was fifteen and on holiday with my parents in Spain. I'd tried to get out of it, arguing that I was quite capable of looking after myself for two weeks. But they were having none of it. Finally, I was given two choices. Two weeks with Auntie Dora, I'd experienced Auntie Dora before, a weekend that seemed like a fortnight, or two weeks with my parents. So, very reluctantly. I opted for Spain.
My Dad is a creature of habit. He's been booking the same hotel, in the same Spanish resort, at the same time of year for as long as I can remember. The holiday never alters. One day at the pool the next at the beach.
Night time, was the worst time for me. I would sit with a coke. Mum and Dad knew most people in the bar and they would chat away, swopping stories, jokes that seemed, much to my embarrassment, to get more and more lewd as the night went on. It's sounds like I'm painting a picture of my parents as horrible people. But, you must realise that back then I was a rather snobbish, precocious, teenager who didn't want to be there. Looking back, they were just two people looking to have a good time on holiday.
Then one night in the bar something happened that I still cringe about too this day. The most gorgeous Spanish guy, think of a young version of Antonio Banderos and you're half-way there, came up to our table, smiled a lovely smile, and asked me to dance. My heart hammered in my chest, my hands shook. Of all the girls in that bar he had chosen me. I was ecstatic. I began to rise, shakily, to my feet when my Father spoke the fateful words, "She's only fifteen." I could have died. As this beautiful man disappeared into the crowd I just wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
Quite quickly Dad had discovered that sun beds and umbrellas were free at beach bars providing of course that you bought drinks or food, periodically. So, each day we would head down to the same bar. I was always rather uncomfortable because the bar owners sons, teenagers, seemed to be always staring at me when I was sun bathing. The bar had an outside shower, a timber frame embedded in the sand with corrugated iron sides and a crudely made, but lockable, door. Each other day I would use the shower to change into my bikini. Then, before heading back to the hotel, I would shower and put on my clothes. This is the start of my confession.
One day, probably into the second week, I was drying myself and about to get dressed when I noticed something, by sheer chance, embedded in the sand next to the water pipe that fed the shower. It was a black tube like thing. It would never normally have been visible but I guess the water had washed away some of the sand that partially covered it. I was curious and began to bend down to take a closer look. Then as I did so I suddenly realised what it was. I was mortified, it was a camera. I scrambled to my feet, but then I realised that I was stark naked. I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around myself and somehow got into my clothes while still covering myself with the towel. Outside, I was visibly shaken.
I knew straight away that it was the two Spanish lads. I was totally embarrassed and ashamed at what the pair of b*****ds might have seen. That night I couldn't stop thinking about it. My first reaction was that I wanted to go and confront them. However, my Mum would be calling the police if she found out. So, I thought the best plan was to simply not use the shower. I couldn't ask to go to a different beach bar because Dad would ask why. Then something altogether weird began to happen.
I began to get a kind of a buzz thinking about what those two lads may have seen. It turned me on. After all it wasn't my fault. I was completely innocent. The more I thought about it the more I got excited. The next time at the beach I did a very naughty thing. The camera had been covered over but I knew it was there. I was shaking like a leaf but I undressed, being careful not to look into the camera, I stood there naked. But, only for a few seconds before getting in to my bikini. I was more than a bit more daring after the beach. Stripping off and showering I was directly over the camera and it was incredibly exciting. You see I was the innocent party, I was doing nothing wrong, exposing myself like this I was the innocent nice girl not knowing that anyone was looking I could do almost anything. And I did.
Not then but the next time. I purposely turned my back to the shower I picked up my wet bikini. Wringing it out while still bending over. I was a late developer in the pubic hair department so whoever was looking must have had a pretty good view. My heart was running away and I was trembling. But, I had never been so incredibly turned on.
Then, the day before we were due to leave, I did the worst thing. Standing, completely naked, over the camera. I played with myself (there I've said it) my clit was slipping around like a wet piece of soap and I had my first, real. orgasm.
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