Chapter 1: Sunbathing

“Happy Birthday!” I passed Saffie the package when she got in from school.

“An extra present? Oooh what is it?” she squashed it this way and that, trying to feel what it might be; inspecting it. “Christmas paper! Haha! Dad what are you like?”

“It’s all that was in the cupboard,” I explained.

“Mum keeps the wrapping paper in the wardrobe in the spare room.” She ripped the paper apart. The white string bikini emerged on its little plastic hanger.

“Dad...” She looked uncertainly at it, then at me.

“Errr,” I was assailed by a sudden doubt, “you must need a bit of a different size this year...”

“I need something I can wear in public.” She was offering up the top, which was the type that is two triangles of thin material, gathered into folds on a thick string at the bottom, so it can mould over a shape; and at the top another thick, white string that’s tied in a big bow behind the neck. With Saffie’s short hair the bow would be visible, and the long ends would dangle teasingly down her back, to reach the matching bow of the lower string. As she tanned of course, the white strings would become ever more tantalisingly visible.

“It’s perfectly decent,” I protested, “it covers everything. But you can take it back if you want something more formal, choose something you like.”

“I suppose...” She was offering up the bottoms now, which were in the same style of course and basically two triangles, with long strings at the side tied into big bows with long dangly ends. “No it’s okay, thanks, just about,” she raised a smile. “Thanks.”

“It’s not a thong is it? I thought you teens like to show off when you’re in shape.”

“Yes it’s okay. Thanks.”

“I was getting some new trunks for myself, I thought you’d like it, a little something as well as your phone.”

“It’s great thanks, I’ll wear it. I expect.”

“Good.” I smiled. I left her to it and went out to cut the grass.

“You picked up a bikini for her?” Amanda, my wife, commented after dinner that evening, when Saffie had gone up to do stuff in her room. Amanda works in an office, while I work from home, so she’d missed my incompetent little presentation; but evidently Saffie, who is something of a mummy’s girl, had been talking to her about it.

“I just saw it when I was getting my new trunks, and thought well she’s going to need a different one now.”

“Saw it on an adult model?” There was only half a smile.

“Well she’s got shape now. You wouldn’t want her in last year’s would you?”

“It’s worried her that it’s so small and so sexy. It’s a step change.”

“I thought they liked them small. Anyway I did ask her if she wanted to change it and she said she didn’t. I’ll ask again though, sorry. It’s not that tiny though, I mean not risqué at all: everything’s covered, with plenty to spare.”

“She’s just at that stage where she’s not sure about it all. It’s fun being slim and pretty while she’s young and then now she’s got woman bits and boys are saying things and men are looking at her. It’s not like growing up as a boy. Tits can be great for her or not, depending what exactly they attract. The behaviour they attract I mean. The power equation can go either way.”

“Alright I’ll talk to her. Sorry.”

“Alright,” she relented, “it might just take her a bit of time, trying it on and so on; and what her friends are getting and what they say, let’s see. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her ... in fact it’s going to be sunny tomorrow isn’t it? I’ll pop into town and get something like that for myself, see if that makes the difference for her. My old one’s a bit old anyway, and I’m not too bad still am I?”

“Great idea,” I gave her a kiss and fondled her firm ass, that isn’t like any other 36-year-old’s ass I know. Not that I’ve fondled a lot of thirty-something women’s asses, but you get my drift: she’s serious about diet and nutrition, and exercise, and can still carry off a small bikini right down to the flat teen-alike tummy.

So the next day, the second Saturday in June, she wound up lunch with a cheerful announcement: “Right, I’m going to try my new bikini and get my tan started for the summer. Who’s coming? We blondes have to get started early don’t we Saffie. You can try your new one too, see how it compares with mine, make a start, just privately, and you can start with your new trunks Derek, it looks like there’s some pale new skin to tan this year...”

“They’re not that small,” I defended myself.

“I can’t wait to see you in them,” she grinned. Amanda and I still have an active sex life, of the three-times-a-week kind, no doubt helped by the ideal nutrition she enforces. Our sex used to be pretty full-on in the early days, but over time we’ve matured.

“And Saffie,” she continued, “just try it there’s nothing to be embarrassed about is there? Start your tan off with a small one, then if you want to wear a one-piece or whatever for swimming, you won’t have white bits like you would have the other way round.”

She has that quality of somehow making people want to do what she wants them to do, so not many minutes later we were all on sunbeds on the patio, with Amanda in the middle.

“That bikini looks perfect on you,” she was trying to reassure our slightly sulky only child - one child followed by a vasectomy is our modest contribution to the global population issue.

“It’s too small,” Saffie tugged the fabric ineffectively towards her hip.

“You think Mum’s is too small?” I asked. It was okay to look at Amanda’s mound, at least.

“I don’t know. Anyway...”

“It’s the same size, more or less.”

Silence. I looked over to see the earbuds were in.

“Shall I do your back?” Amanda asked me. Unlike her I can’t reach all of it.

“Thanks.” I settled on my front and she sprayed the sun oil over me. The familiar, sensual feel of her hands joined with the warm sun on my skin. I lay with my head facing left towards Saffie, while Amanda took her time. I could sense a slight smile over her lovely face, as one crept over mine.

Saffie is more lightly built than Amanda, but the same five foot four; so far at least. She probably has a bit more to fill out yet, but she will stay more slender I think. Not that Amanda is broad or anything, her hips are a 34. You could call her figure ‘neat’ perhaps. She has a waist but it’s not tiny, a 29, and her tits are a neat breast-shaped B in the same vein. If she didn’t look after it it could be an average by now, I suppose, but as it is I can still hardly keep my hands off her. She’s not only perfect, but also quite strong, and pretty vigorous. He has energy, in a general way.

I was feeling okay about Saffie’s bikini. She was lying on her back, with her eyes closed, so I could appreciate how the soft, thin fabric was moulding itself over her pert little tits. There was some tit not covered, towards the top and sides, but no nipple or underboob at risk of exposure. Ideal.

The bottoms started below her pelvic crests, so there was a teasing gap under the waist tie, even in the middle. The fabric I couldn’t see much of, but I knew it fitted neatly into the V either side of her mons, and extended most but not all the way across to her hip; so like the top it covered everything it needed to and just a little bit more. At the back I knew that it covered her asscrack, and was well enough cut to stretch tautly half way across each firm asscheek.

“Turn over,” Amanda tapped my ass. She’d done my legs as well, including the insides of my thighs.

I turned over with a grin, and a hardon.

“I hope that’s from me,” murmured Amanda with a smile, checking to see Saffie’s eyes were still closed.

“Well it’s for you anyway,” I grinned.

“These trunks are ridiculous, where is it supposed to go?”

It was bent over, bulging out and trying to escape off to the side.

“They’re not intended to hide it,” I argued.

“Don’t they call them ‘budgie smugglers’ somewhere?” She moved up to shield it from Saffie with her body, while she started on my face with her deft, oily fingers.

“Australia.”

“How did I guess?”

“Aussies are just better at not pretending it doesn’t exist.”

“You’d be thrown off the beach if you went round like this, Bondi Beach as much as anywhere. Unless the girl lifeguards got to you first, I suppose.”

“You’d be a good lifeguard.” I stroked up her perfectly muscled leg, across the three strings at the side of her bikini bottoms, onto her waist, and down over her ass.

“Come on then,” she grinned and stood up, extending a hand to help me up. In thirty seconds we were in the bedroom, naked, and I was easing inside her gorgeous body.

“The sun...” I said.

“Sets us off,” she finished, thrusting her fit pelvis against me. It depends on our moods how we do it, but at times like this it’s quite often hard and fast and urgent. I am five-nine and we line up quite nicely missionary, so there’s a lot of stimulation and generally we don’t last long.

In only four or five minutes she was there, groaning and gasping, and so was I. We savoured our orgasms together, then before I could start to feel sleepy we went back down so I could doze in the sunshine.

“No need to close your window or anything,” muttered Saffie as we arrived back on the patio. She looked us up and down.

“Oh sorry,” smiled Amanda easily, “we thought you were listening to music.” Our bedroom overlooks the garden so the window was right above Saffie’s head, now she mentioned it.