Lifeguard
Written on 9 December 2007 by SabrinaThis is the story of the day I lost that job.
I guess it was natural that I became one in the first place. I was a good swimmer, and I looked the part: blonde hair, nice boobs, long legs, filling out my uniform (yellow one-piece swimsuit) pretty nicely. My friends teased me sometimes, calling me “Baywatch”, but it was all good-natured. Whenever I saw myself in the suit I had to admit they had a point.
The one drawback was that some people (like my boss, Mike) assumed that a pretty blonde girl couldn’t possibly have any brains. As if everyone had a limited amount of good qualities, and shining in one area meant you had to skimp in another. Mike never seemed to give me a break. We all make little mistakes from time to time, and usually we fix them right away. But my boss never gave me the benefit of the doubt.
He didn’t seem to treat the other girls so harshly, and they all liked him, said he was cute. I agreed that on the surface that he had good looks: bright eyes, strong chin, muscular, flat abs and tight butt… yet the way he was on the inside colored that impression for me. He wasn’t handsome in my eyes.
All in all, everything else about the job was cool, so Mike I learned to put up with.
I was 20 years old, and going to community college. When classes were out, it was a pretty good life: work in the morning, then get cleaned up and go shopping, or see some friends, and think about where to go out that night. My beach was behind a reef so the surf was very gentle, and the surfers and risk-takers went elsewhere. In two summers I had never had to rescue anyone.
That Friday morning I woke up late, with just enough time to get my swimsuit and drive to the beach. My yellow one-piece, which I had hand-washed last night, should have been hanging over the shower curtain to drip dry. But it wasn’t there. I was frantically looking for it when my little sister said she might have accidentally put it in the dryer. “It’s not supposed to go in there!” I yelled.
I pulled stuff out into a basket, looking for my suit. Like I was afraid of, it had shrunk. A lot. I held it up in front of me: even hanging down flat, it was too small now. No way would it cover me in 3-D. I yelled some not-so-nice things at my sister, and Mom yelled at me. The day was starting out great.
Now I was in a bind. I had no other swimsuit. No store would be open at 9 am. I knew I couldn’t skip that day, because we were short-staffed. No one to take my place. I had to show up to work; what was I going to wear?
It was getting late, and I had no ideas, so I just kept on what I wore to bed: an aqua blue tank top with a ribbed pattern, and gray fleece shorts. This was an ugly outfit, but I figured it should be a slow day and I probably wouldn’t even have to leave my chair until Bernice came in to relieve me. I could count on her not to rat me out to Mike for not having proper attire. And the lifeguard chair was so big and so high, that from the beach people could barely see anything except my arms and head. So even with my shorts and tank, I would probably be OK.
I drove really fast, but still got to the beach five minutes late, bracing myself for trouble. However, there was only one blanket set up: a mom and her little boy, playing in the sand. If I was lucky, no one would ever know I wasn’t at my post at exactly 9:00. I had never been late up to that point. Still, in Mike’s eyes, I would become the ditzy blonde who was always late and lost her swimsuit… unless he never found out. I took off my shoes and walked across the sand to my chair.
It’s a funny thing about the chairs we had: the guard had a great view of the water and a so-so view of the beach. But unless you were in the water, people on the beach really couldn’t see much of me; the angle was wrong. With no one in the water, it was like I had the beach to myself. After the hectic scene at home, and the race to get here, I could finally relax.
The sun was behind me, and already pretty warm on my skin. I took out the sunblock and started doing my arms and face. With our one-piece suits, it was pretty easy to reach everywhere that wasn’t already covered, which was essential when we were sitting in the sun for hours at a time. Because I was really strict with myself about protecting my skin, I would usually go through summer without much of a tan. Sort of ironic given my job.
I took a few deep breaths to really calm down; something my friend Felice had taught me. Now I was feeling pretty relaxed and all the stress was gone. It was a close call, but things were going to be OK. Just another routine day. And that was good.
The tank top and shorts covered part of the same area as the one-piece had, and in a few minutes I was done with the sunblock. No more people had shown up at the beach as far as I could tell, and still no one was in the water. Now there was little to do except wait and watch. There was an ocean liner a few miles off, and a stretch of low clouds at the horizon. The air stirred a little; barely a breeze. It was very calm.
The warm sun and sound of the surf were making me a little sleepy. I wasn’t worried; people would soon start to trickle in and venture into the water. Just watching people have fun tended to keep my interest, and if trouble developed I would notice right away.
One drawback with my improvised wardrobe: the tanktop and shorts heated up in the sun a lot more than my reflective yellow swimsuit did. Usually it was only the hottest days of summer that we would need to drink extra fluids, or spritz water on ourselves to cool down. Today wouldn’t have been one of those days. But the tank top in particular was getting uncomfortably hot.
Not that I could do anything about it; I was stuck here until eleven, when Bernice would spot me. I would take the buggy to the guard office and hopefully snag a spare swimsuit. But right now, I was stuck with my top.
Or was I?
I gave this a lot of thought. What if I took the top off? I wasn’t wearing a bra. Not only was going topless on the beach not allowed, but I had never bared my breasts outside before anyway. The thought was a little scary.
On the other hand, basically nobody was here. In my guard chair I had extra privacy anyway. I would see anyone approaching before they could see me. If that was all true, then I should be able to take off the top for a little while, and I’d be able to put it back on before anyone could see me. Right?
This struck me as not only scary, but kind of naughty; but instead of dissuading me, that feeling helped convince me to try it. The more I considered it, the more it seemed like some innocent fun. Maybe after the summer I would tell Bernice what I had done that Friday morning. I sat up and looked around — the coast (ha ha) was still clear — and then leaned back, scrunching down as much as I could, and pulled my top about halfway upward.
An inch or so of the bottoms curves of my breasts were out. Now’s not the time to chicken out, I thought. I lifted the top a little higher, up away from my chest now, following the swells of my breasts. I stopped just below my nipples, thinking, OK, this would be the time to turn back if I wanted to. But I realized that without a bra, my nipples had been poking against the thin cloth anyway. And what’s the difference if no one can see me anyway? I took a deep breath and took the top completely off.
Wow. Instead of the hot fabric, which was making me perspire, there was just the pleasantly warm sun and air on my bare skin. It felt so good! The heat reminded me that I’d better put sunblock on the newly exposed areas, or I’d have one painful, hard to explain sunburn. I smiled. I had never sunbathed topless before, and now I was doing it, and getting paid $16 an hour for it!
I first did my tummy and sides, and then my shoulders and back, as far as I could reach. Just putting off the inevitable, really. My breasts, unused to being in the open air, I did last.
A Nice Friendly Game of Strip Poker
Written on 5 November 2007 by Da ManThe girl with the long dark hair lost again. Slowly, tantalizingly, she pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing that she was wearing nothing whatsoever underneath. Her small firm breasts were the same golden color as the rest of her skin, with the aureole a darker chocolate brown. All that she had left now was a pair of small, white cotton panties.
While he looked admiringly at the breasts just revealed, caressing their curves with his eyes, the black girl to his right shuffled the cards for the next round of their game. So far, it was just plain strip poker, but the girls, when they persuaded him to join them, had promised him some interesting variations later…
It was late at night, he had just been about to leave the party when the four girls had come up to him. They were the only people still in the house, all the other guys having left already. After some embarrassed giggling and shuffling among the girls, none of whom looked more than twenty or so, a year or two younger than he was, a tall blonde asked him if he wanted to play strip poker with them.
He hesitated briefly, wondering what they were up to. Apart from the hostess, a petite brunette named Miriam, with long, curly hair and large breasts, he didn’t know any of the girls. They all appeared fairly drunk, and in a mood for mischief. But the blonde, seeing his hesitation, stepped closer, and, putting her arms around him, promised him a real interesting game. He could fell her pointed breasts rubbing against his chest, and, controlled by the immediate reaction between his legs, he heard himself say yes.
The five of them went into the living room and sat down on the soft carpet covering the floor. The hostess, sitting on his left, brought a pack of cards and started shuffling them. To his right was the black girl, and next to her the golden-skinned, vaguely oriental girl with the long dark hair. The blonde sat between the hostess and the oriental, completing the circle. After he had cut the cards, they all got five cards each, and the game started.
The black girl immediately lost the first two rounds, but all that cost her was a pair of socks. “That’s not fair, Jessie,” complained the blonde, “both I and Mi Ling were barefoot from the start.”
“So? Too late now, Anna, should’ve said that before we started. Besides, you’re wearing a bra, and I’m not.” And it was quite evident that she wasn’t, her nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric of her blouse. “And how about you, Miriam, what do you have under that fancy dress of yours?”
Its fun with video cam
Written on 5 November 2007 by SabrinaI’d been tempted to for a long time, and yesterday during my lunchbreak I drove to Circuit City to check out the latest crop of camcorders. The unit I had in mind was a camera I’d seen a commercial for: a Panasonic with something called “Electronic Image Stabilization”, which keeps the picture steady even if the camera isn’t held perfectly still. And sure enough, that’s the one I walked out the door with.
It was a long afternoon, sitting at my computer trying to get some work done, all the while thinking of fun things to do with my new toy, which was still in its box on the back seat of my car. But then my workdays can seem awfully long anyway, because when I’m at work, I’m not with Teresa (although she does sometimes make surprise lunchtime or evening visits).
The hands on the clock slowly crept around as I struggled to figure out why my Huffman compression routines ran 50% slower than those in a com- petitor’s product. My eyes were ready to glaze over as I stared at my code, trying to find the inefficiencies which had to be there, and then I glanced up at the clock, and it was 5:50.
Yay!
The traffic crawled slowly north on the 55, and it seemed to become slower in proportion to the remaining distance to my home. It was 6:30 when I pulled into my driveway and parked my Stanza next to Teri’s new 240SX. I lugged the big box from my back seat to the front porch and set it down there, went back to my car and shut the door, returned to the front door, opened it, and hauled the box inside.
My wife emerged from the hallway as I closed the door behind me with my foot. She looked at the big box on the floor and her eyes widened. “Oh Robert, you bought me a diamond!” She grinned as she put her arms around me. We hugged and kissed.
There’s no place like home.
“Really, what did you get?” she asked after our lips disengaged. I reached down and spun the box around so the other end was visible. It showed a picture of the camera, along with a list of features in Eng- lish and French.
“I’ve been telling you that I was gonna get one some day, and today I finally broke down and did it. You realize now that we can’t afford to buy any food for the next two months.”
“Well that’s o.k. We have a whole loaf of bread, and we can split one slice between us every day.”
Naughty Sex At Work
Written on 5 November 2007 by Da ManI work on the second floor of a three-story building. My office has windows but my view is mainly our own parking lot and a warehouse on the other side of a line of very tall bushes from our company. The view of the warehouse is just the three huge loading dock doors. They stay open most of the day, even when it’s cold out. Lately I’ve been keeping a pair of binoculars in my bottom desk drawer due to a new employee that started a few weeks ago at this warehouse.
The new employee is this cute little blonde. She’s got long hair and a tight body. She works in the loading area, but obviously has a desk job because of the way she dresses. She’s always wearing these micro-mini skirts and dresses. I swear I have yet to see her wear pants and I have seen her nearly every day for the past month. It’s obvious to me how she got the job there.
Anyway, it was about 6 pm and I was just wrapping things up so I could head home when I glanced out the window over at the warehouse. Who should I see but my favorite day-time eye-candy. I grabbed my binoculars and blatantly gazed upon her hot bod. She was wearing a tiny black skirt and a tight white button-down shirt. I could plainly see her white lace bra through the thin material of her shirt. I braced my arm and used my other hand to stroke the growing bulge in my slacks. I wasn’t worried about anyone discovering me because I was the last one left on our floor.
She had a clipboard with her and was making notes on a sheet of paper. She seemed to be examining the packing labels of several large boxes stacked at the doorway. Every so often a label would be near the floor and she’d have to lean over to read it. I got to see plenty of ass-cheek. She was wearing thong undies. Suddenly she stopped what she’d been doing and turned away from the door. I saw someone come partially into view and they seemed to engage in some brief conversation. Then she put down the clipboard and looked out the doorway. She glanced around and then scanned my building, but I guess she couldn’t see me because of the glare off the windows from the evening twilight.
