A windless day is best, although I have gone at other times. I don't like the sand in my eyes or hair. Our beach is not a clothing optional beach, but the first thing I do upon arriving is remove my bathing suit top. Never the bottoms, but that is enough to draw them like moths to a flame. My breasts are small, with up-tilted nipples colored dark pink, and I've been told they're pretty.

My beach chair tilts me so they are shown off to full advantage as I read or sip from my glass, waiting the arrival of the one. Many appear quickly: some for a glance, others for a comment on their shape or size, others to see how willing I am. I dismiss them all with a shake of the head, smiling. Several always watch as I apply lotion to my breasts lovingly, the bulges in their suits obvious. These I ignore as well. The one I want hangs back away from the action, hesitant and shy, unwilling to declare himself immediately. Most carry cameras and take a few pictures, hoping not to be noticed as the shutter clicks.

When I found at age 14 that I was different, I reveled in it, and for a time considered piercings and tattoos to complement my uniqueness. Those ideas were discarded as too permanent, so today I have blue hair and orange toenails, along with multiple earrings in both ears. The one shows himself at the fringe of the small crowd, and I rise and stroll to the water, giving him a better look at my full hips and bottom. I walk languidly, feeling the dampness seep into the fabric of my suit. The crowd dissipates and he and I are alone. He is shy, and I have to look at him and smile an invitation for him to come to me.

He is perhaps 30, probably married, and blushes as he asks to take my picture. I nod yes, and his paunch jiggles as he circles me, snapping again and again, as if he is afraid I'm a vision and will disappear before he is through. Satisfied (or perhaps out of memory) he breathlessly asks to sit with me. I nod again, and he haltingly tells me of my beauty or the special quality that he has captured. When I refuse to look at his efforts, he is frustrated for a moment and then relaxes, knowing that he can sit and stare at what he already has on disc to his heart's content. He doesn't realize he is the one until later in the day, when I invite him to accompany me. He grins with anticipation as I put my top back on and go to the parking lot.

Today is a Bug, but there have been convertibles and sedans behind me, as the one I have chosen follows me home. I drive quickly and surely, testing his commitment to me. I readjust the growing bulge in my suit as I drive to get more comfortable. He trails like he is stuck to me, and is out of his car first as I park in my driveway. The house is empty; neither parent will be home until late. A drink of water for his dry mouth in the kitchen, a short tour of the house, and he stumbles into me as I open the door to my room.

Feminine and lacy with posters on the wall, he sees what he sees at home or at his neighbor's house, a typical teenagers room. I have one item of furniture he recognizes as different, my couch. Nothing more than 4 legs with an upholstered top about 5 feet long, it is what he will use to service me. Suddenly unsure and shy, he smiles at me and I take the lead. Removing my top, I hold his hand and lead him to my bathroom, where I shower as he watches. Coming out, I dry my hair and place his hands on my breasts, inviting his touch. He moans and whispers to me, stroking them and making my nipples hard. The bulge in his trunks is very obvious, and I let my fingertips brush against it.

I step back and pull off my bottoms, letting my unique apparatus appear. Some have bolted at this point, others have laughed, but today I have chosen well and he stares spellbound at my pubis. The shallow slit beneath my cock is leaking onto the floor, one drop at a time in the utter silence. I move him to the couch and have him recline, his head off one end. I straddle his face and let him look closely at the pink and coral center of my sex. The puffy lips are wet, and he tentatively licks me to see if I am real. I squat a little, pressing his lips against me, urging him to continue. I open his fly and take out his penis as he licks me, sucking my essence and murmuring words I cannot hear. My orgasm builds very fast and I have to grasp his thighs as the ripples hit, concurrent with his tongue and fingers working my wetness.