Literotic asexstories – In the Beginning was the Word by kathyd,kathyd
It was the end of August, and although the late-afternoon sun was still warm and bright, the beach was sparsely populated. Becky had one week of summer vacation remaining before she returned to college to begin her sophomore year, and she wanted her skin to have the deep tan of too many lazy hours on the beach.
With that in mind, she had worn her skimpiest swimsuit today, a tiny black bikini. The top barely covered her breasts and the bottoms were nothing more than a small piece of fabric. She shaved carefully down there every other day, to make sure that no errant hairs were visible when she wore such a revealing bathing suit. No need to feel modest today though, since there were so few people on the beach. No one would see her. She was tempted to remove the bikini top completely, so there would be no tan lines, but decided against it.
With a smile, Becky remembered the one and only time that she had gone topless. It was shortly after her 18th birthday, over a year ago, and her parents had taken her to Italy on a family vacation. They had gone sightseeing one afternoon, and she decided to go by herself to the crowded Venice beach that was not far from their hotel. She saw that a number of young women had taken off their tops and were sunbathing, and she thought to herself, why not?
Coming back to the present, Becky picked up the paperback novel that she was midway through, and she began to read. It was a trashy erotic novel, but she enjoyed the sex scenes very much. She thought the writing was suggestive, but old-fashioned in style, and so she rewrote many of the sex scenes in her own mind.
Funny, she thought to herself. I could write hotter sex scenes than this, and I’m still a virgin.
Becky was very well-read, with an inquiring mind and a voracious appetite for books. She read constantly, although not very discriminatingly. Her mother would have scolded her for reading trash like this, and told her to pick up a quality classic novel or some good historical fiction.
Becky read several pages, and she soon reached a chapter that featured a lengthy sexual encounter between the two main characters. The man and woman were engaged in mutual oral sex, a sixty-nine, and the writer described in detail the intensely pleasurable sensations that accompanied their eventual orgasms. Becky re-read the chapter a second time, lingering over the part about their climaxes.
Although her own experiences with sex were limited to self-gratification, Becky regarded herself as very sexual. She thought about sex frequently, and often fantasized while she masturbated. She was confident that when the time came for her sexual initiation she would seize the opportunity, and her first-time partner would be the lucky beneficiary of her pent-up eagerness.
Glancing up from her book, she saw a slender young man walking toward her on the sand. He was toweling himself off, having just finished a swim, and he seemed vaguely familiar.
“Anthony!” she called. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in over a year!”
Anthony Parola had graduated from high school in Becky’s class, and he had gone on to a swimming scholarship at a large university on the West coast. She had not seen him since graduation, over fifteen months ago, and he looked great – his athletic body was lean and sculpted, and his narrow waist flared to nice broad shoulders. He walked confidently, carrying himself with the slight swagger that one expected of an accomplished athlete.
“Hey, Becky, good to see you! Looking good, looking good!” Anthony allowed his eyes to evaluate Becky from tip to toe, and he surreptitiously lingered over the areas that were barely covered by the bikini.
“Thanks, Anthony, you too!” she said, her own eyes taking in his gorgeous body.
The two had traveled in different circles in high school. Anthony had hung out with the other jocks, although he was not as loud and obnoxious as they tended to be. He was studious and thoughtful, and he didn’t really fit in with that crowd. While the rest of the athletes would be drinking and carousing at a party, Anthony would be talking quietly with one or two close friends in a corner, discussing more serious matters: current events, recent films, or books that he had just read.
Becky was also a scholar, and she had tended to be a loner back then. In high school, she had excelled as a creative writer, winning several prizes and competitions. She also wrote for the school newspaper, and her columns were clearly of a higher quality than her colleagues.
Like Anthony, she had become somewhat more extroverted during her first year in college, but she still didn’t date much and most of her socializing tended to be in small groups.
“Mind if I join you?” Anthony motioned to the area adjacent to Becky’s beach towel.
“Not at all. Please do,” said Becky, inviting him to spread his towel next to hers on the sand.
“It’s been awhile,” he said. “I haven’t seen you since graduation last year.”
“I know. How was your first year at school?”
“Great,” he said. “I made the junior varsity team, and swam with the varsity by the end of the season. Sophomore year should be even better.”
“How about the course load?” Becky asked. “Tough?”
“Very. I was studying for several hours every night, and didn’t have much time for partying. Summer has been a nice break for me.” Anthony looked pensive and added, “I’m ready to go back to school, though. I get bored when I have too much free time on my hands.”
“Yeah, me too,” Becky replied. “I carried a full course load during the last semester, plus I worked in the library, and I even did some independent study research for one of the professors.”
Anthony glanced at the book that Becky held in her right hand, her forefinger marking her place.
“Well, this summer I HAVE indulged in some junk food for the mind,” she said, laughingly holding up the lurid paperback.
“Oh, please tell me that you are not reading THAT crap?!” Anthony laughed. “That will make your IQ go down 10 points! Why aren’t you reading something worthwhile?”
“I know, I know,” she said. She dropped her voice to a whisper, and asked with mock seriousness, “Can you keep a secret, Anthony?”
“Yes, of course,” he replied, his voice also suddenly quiet. “What is it?”
“I read these for the sex scenes!” she giggled. “They are SO corny and over the top! Here, read this!”
She handed him the paperback, and gestured to the chapter that she had just finished. Anthony began to read.
Becky watched him intently, looking at his face for a reaction. After a few moments, while Anthony was reading, her eyes wandered over his body, and she noticed the bulge in the front of his swimsuit. She wondered for a moment how big Anthony might be under there.
“Whew!” Anthony said, as he handed the book back to Becky. “That was pretty hot!”
“You think so?” Becky asked. “I bet I could write a better sex scene than that!”
“Really? What makes you say so?” Anthony was intrigued by Becky’s bravado.
“Oh, come on,” she said. “That was so corny, with the stuff about the ‘throbbing member’ and ‘dizzying pleasure’. Good erotica doesn’t need silly euphemisms. Good erotic fiction places you in the scene, makes you feel like you are there.”
“You sound like an expert,” Anthony commented.
“Well, I have read a fair amount of this stuff,” she replied, “and I have written a few things myself.”
“You have? Really?” Anthony asked.
“If the sex is incidental to the character development and the plot, it can be very enjoyable for the reader. For me, the sex scenes are much more believable and erotic if I feel like I can relate to the characters,” Becky explained.
“You seem to have thought about this a lot,” Anthony said.
He wondered about Becky’s personal sexual experience – in high school, she was certainly not known as one of the wild girls. Did she have a steady boyfriend at college? For many girls, college was the place for their first time.
Anthony was a little embarrassed that he was still a virgin himself. There had been willing co-eds, but he had not taken advantage of those opportunities when they had presented themselves. With those girls, he had never made it past the heavy petting stage, and he wasn’t really sure why.
Becky interrupted his thoughts. “Oh, I enjoy writing, I would like to be a writer myself someday. And I can learn as much from bad writing as I can from good writing, because I can see what works, and what doesn’t, and I can learn to avoid the pitfalls.” She wondered if she was talking too much, and maybe coming on too strong. I sound silly, she thought to herself.
“I remember reading your columns in the school newspaper,” Anthony said. “You always were very good. And, you won those prizes in the creative writing competitions.”
“Erotic fiction is different,” Becky commented. “It’s not easy to create characters and dialogue that seem plausible. Sex scenes seem silly and contrived with most authors, even good authors.”
“And you have written some stories like this?” asked Anthony.
“Sure, I have a few pieces that I wrote over the past year. Why?”
“I would love to read them sometime. Could I?” Anthony asked shyly.
“Of course! I would love your opinion!” Becky replied. “My parents are going out tonight – why don’t you come over to the house, and you could tell me what you think?”
“All right, sounds good! How about if I come by around seven? Would that be OK?”
“Perfect. See you then!”
Anthony rose from his towel, said goodbye and wandered off toward his car. Becky watched him walk away, admiring his lean physique. He really is quite good-looking, she thought, and rather sweet. Why not him?
Arriving home later, Becky called a greeting to her parents, and went upstairs to her room to shower and change. In her bathroom, she stripped off her black bikini, and stood naked in front of the mirror.
Her tan had gotten darker – she turned slightly to see her bottom, and its paleness stood in stark contrast to the golden brown of her lower back and thighs. There was a narrow horizontal tan line across her back, where the bikini top had been tied. Tomorrow I find a secluded place on that beach to go topless, she thought. I would like to get rid of that tan line.
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