Kelly Lane - Wet and ready

They're so kind, I thought. They treat me as though I were really a part of the family and not like hired help…

Hired help! How absurd. Sure, I work for them – if you can call what I do work. Being a mother's helper for a family like the Wells' is the closest thing to getting paid for doing nothing at all. They pay me for doing the very same jobs I had to do at home: taking care of the kids, going to the store, helping with the housework, and giving Mrs. Wells a hand with everything.

Hell. I even get one day off a week, plus any night after the kids are asleep or whenever they just don't need me. My free time is my own – no questions asked. That kind of freedom my mother would never have allowed. But here – it's a part of the job. Even when I'm forced to work, the conditions are perfect. Taking care of the kids means taking them to a movie or the beach or on a picnic! We go swimming almost every day, have barbecues at night, and go to beach parties on the weekends. Usually I can sleep as late as I want, my room and board is free, and I can stay out as late as I want at night – within reason.

All this, and I get paid, too!

It's more a vacation than a job.

I thought back to last year – it had been a paradise for me. My very first taste of freedom and independence.

And this year I intended to pick up right where I left off only this year would be even better. I had more ways now of enjoying myself on my days off…

I tried to remember the boys I had met here last year. God! I had been such an unbelievably naive jerk! I must have fallen in love at least ten times before the end of the summer! And what did we do? We amused ourselves with a little kissing and touching, and drinking warm beer under the boardwalks at night.

But that was last year, and it was all changed now. I had a three-month supply of birth-control pills, and I intended to use them. If I did any kissing and petting this year, it would only be a preliminary to something bigger and better. I had no intention of wasting all this freedom.

I must have laughed out loud, because Mimi Wells looked at me in a kind of curious way. It was almost as though she knew what I was thinking.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

I blushed. "Oh, nothing. I'm just so glad to be back."

"Good," she said. "Because we're glad to have you back. The kids missed you. We missed you. I'm sure you're going to have a good summer."

I said I was sure of the same thing.

The car pulled into the driveway of the Wellses' summer house. The house was small, wood-framed, with a fresh coat of white paint that made the sunlight dance all over it. I could smell the ocean in the air, and the soil around the house was more sand than anything else. I longed to put my bathing suit on and splash freely in the ocean.

"Why don't you unpack later," Gus suggested. "Get your bathing suit and we'll go down to the beach."

I looked hopefully at Mimi. With a mother's helper, the wife was the boss. But she was smiling, and I knew it would be all right.

"Okay," she agreed.

The kids cheered the decision, and I felt like jumping for joy myself. I restrained my enthusiasm with difficulty.

"Do I have the same room?" I asked, only being partially successful at keeping the excitement from my voice.

"Same room."

"I'll just be a moment," I said.

I ran into the empty summer house, while my summer family waited for me outside. My skin felt as though it were smothering; I began to take my clothing from my body as a prisoner might shed his chains and prison garb. I felt the exciting freedom of a cool salt breeze, tickling up against my nakedness as it blew in through an open window.

I popped open my suitcase, and pulled out some shorts and tops and other summer clothes that I would need. I began placing them on the bed in a very sloppy and anxious way. And hidden underneath everything else was my bathing suit. A bikini bathing suit. Very brief and very, very daring.

If Mom could see this, I thought to myself, pulling the bottoms up my long firm legs and thighs until I felt the elastic tightness of the material snuggled firmly against my cunt.

The other bathing suit I had packed – the one my mother knew about – was an old, ugly one-piece thing that I had brought with me only to appease her. If she only knew about this one – God! She'd have a heart attack on the spot.

It took me nearly two months to save up enough money to buy this bikini bathing suit, but the time and the effort was well worth it.

I leaned forward and plopped my tits into the tiny cups of the top piece. I fastened the back strap and looked at myself in the mirror. My tits were pushed up, and full and firm, with the soft curve of each breast exposed almost to the nipple.

It was worth it, I assured myself when Gus Wells sees me in this.

I laughed again.

It was going to be a good summer.

It was dark when we got back from the beach. The kids were sleeping on the back seat. I carried Percy in on my shoulder, and Gus carried Cindy.

The nights out here this close to the ocean are usually very cool, regardless of how hot the days are. This night was no exception, and I shivered in my wet bathing suit at the touch of the wind.

I carried Percy to his room and placed him in a sleeping ball on his bed.

"I'll undress him," Mimi offered. "Why don't you take your shower and get some sleep? You must be exhausted."

I didn't give her an argument. My body felt drained, as though the heat of the sun and the pounding of the surf had somehow combined to siphon off my enthusiasm. I could still feel the ebb and the flow of the ocean's tide in my muscles, and the floor beneath my feet seemed to bob up and down.

I showered quickly, enjoying the icy prickling the tiny needles of water made against my exhausted flesh. I left the shower feeling refreshed and revived. I stood on the damp tile floor and rubbed a fluffy terry towel over my skin, ostensibly drying it, yet oddly awakening it in a smoldering fire.

I rubbed the towel between my legs, relishing the soft pressure of my hand against my flesh. The edge of the towel slipped between my cunt-lips, and I felt an unexpected shudder flutter down my legs. I cupped the towel against the mound of my cunt, holding it firmly in my hand.

On the bathroom door was a full-length mirror, and I found myself fascinated at my reflection. My long dark hair was wet, and it hung straight down over my shoulders like thick black lines. My tits were firm and solid, heavy but not sagging. I could see the creamy whiteness near the tips, where my tan ended. My nipples were erect and red-brown; bubbles of water beaded against my flesh. The overhead light caught the bubbles and made them dance, like diamonds decorating my tits.

My waist was slim and flat – so small that it made my tits appear larger than they actually were. My hips flared out nicely, but not yet fully rounded. A few more years would fill them out in ripe, mature curves. But there was enough there to assure me of the promise of things to come.

My arm and hand cut across my stomach like a diagonal line, with the white folds of the towel draped down between my open legs. I could just see a few dark hairs near the edge of my cunt, curling out from under the towel.

I dropped the towel and moved my hand to the side. Involuntarily, my breath sucked inward at the sight. The mound of my cunt was broad and wide, heavily covered with a thick brown hair that now looked black from the shower. The sight pleased and excited me. I don't know whether it was because I had developed late, or whether my awareness of my own body and what was happening to it had been blunted by so many years of sleeping adolescence.

It was as though, one day, I looked into the mirror and saw I was no longer a child. The reflection – the body of a woman – stared back out at me.