Two Four Three: Azure

I found this story in my archives. A friend from the mid-Noughts, someone who's now a successful professional in London Town, told me this story more than a dozen years ago. Worth saving, I think:

Nice 2005

I was inter-railing about Europe alone. You have to be able to travel alone before you can properly travel with anyone else. It was the summer before my A levels. I spent a day sunbathing on the beach, topless as was the custom. My breasts were milky white in comparison to the golden tan that a week in Paris had given to my limbs. 

After a while looking out to sea I noticed a man swimming who had been watching me for some time. He was blond and tanned in that European kind of way and he was 35...38 maybe. I wandered down into the water, plunging in quickly so my tits were covered in some show of false modesty but they popped up out of the water as I swam. I smiled over at him, a few metres away now.

"Anglaise?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"No no no, en francais s'il vous plait."

"No, I can't... I can, I don't want to."

"Okay."

There was instant chemistry. The kind that makes the air feel electric, you need to be grounded, you need to touch something. He asked me if I was on holiday. I affirmed and asked the same. No, he was working in the city, this was his lunch break. There was a platform in the sea a little way out where young teenagers were diving into the ocean. "Come out there and swim with me?" I asked. Strangely, he followed.

I climbed up onto the platform and he behind me. He mocked at pushing me in and when I sat on the edge he straddled my waist from behind, his legs spread around me. When I leant back I could feel his organ pushing into my back. He pushed and I laughed and he shoved and into the sea I toppled. I came up laughing but pulled him in by the legs.

He caught me in the water. "Two options..." He eyed me. "Kiss or drown."

I leant forward and kissed him then. A gentle shy kiss. He held onto the platform with one hand and pulled me up with the other, kissing me harder. Before I knew it his fingers were inside my bikini bottoms, pushing and probing. He dipped a finger into my cunt before finding my clit and rubbing me hard. My stomach was flipping and he laughed. "Come over there to those rocks, there are less people."

We swam over to a little enclave in the rocks. There were people behind us on the beach and far out to sea, but they couldn't see over the rocky ridge which surrounded us. "Your sex. Show me." It was a demand, not a question. He reached forward and pulled my bikini to one side, spreading my knees with a tap on the thigh and opening my cunt lips wide. He exposed his cock and I leaned forward and touched it. He pushed me back and rubbed my clit, not gently but harshly and roughly. In seconds I was cumming to his hand. He reached for my hand and put it on his cock. I inexpertly touched him as he made me sit with my legs spread for him looking at my dripping sex. Within a minute or two he gasped and said "Look!" as cum spurted from his cock. He kissed me then. "I must go back to work. Enjoy the beach."

I nodded, feeling nothing but post-orgasmic calm. He walked over the rocks and I hopped into the sea and swam back to where I had been sunbathing, lying on my front. A few minutes later a tap came on my shoulder. "Don't get burnt!" he said mockingly and strolled off, laughing kindly.

And that was it. I did not even know his name. 

Tell me what you really think.

Of course I wish she'd done more with him--- on those rocks, out off the platform. I wish she'd taken him into her mouth or ridden him on the platform. Nonetheless, the story is worth saving.

2005 is almost fifteen years ago now. A whole political and social world away from the grim, bleak years of the later twenty-teens. My friend should be in her early-mid thirties now. She's a successful professional in London Town these days, working at the edge of law and corporate finance with start-ups, spending half her time flying off to Singapore and Shanghai. I have no idea what she thinks of her 2005 self now.

I'm thinking, too, the A levels in 2005 would've made her...eighteen? I can never keep track of British school ages. Oh, she did well enough at her A levels to get into Cambridge, into one of the smaller, newer colleges.  But...eighteen? That her story is about a young girl inter-railing to experience Life and Sunlight makes it all the more alluring. Though I do wonder about coming-of-age stories these days. Are we still permitted to like them, to find them titillating? Looking back fifteen years, is my friend's story hot and alluring or is it a scary #MeToo moment? That's something that I think about these days, even while I'm thinking about leggy English girls and sunlight and open water.