Vika stands quivering before me, the goosebumps covering her body sticking out against her supple skin. I look her up and down, noting the smooth pale skin usually covered by her swimsuit. She is naked, and more than a little anxious. Her excuse that she not wants, but needs my opinion on just what the hell is going on with her body has taken her to this point, with no major objections from me. She has with an anxious look on her pretty face, not quite alarmed, but nervous nonetheless. I take my time studying her, knowing that this is what she wants, despite her discomfort. I put my hands on her shoulders and slowly turn her around. Starting at the top of her head I take in every inch of her body.
Her long brown hair is sun lightened from the hours she spends in her outdoor pool cavorting with friends, or at the beach behind my home, which is where I first met her. That day was one we will both always remember. Her parents have forbidden her to swim by herself, either in the family pool and particularly in the ocean. She considers herself part fish, and it's become harder and harder for her to obey this rule as she grows older, especially when a swell is running. She is a surfer, and the pull of the waves were too much for her to resist that day.
Her body is in that lovely stage where late adolescence and womanhood collide; breasts filling but not yet quite completely developed; hips widening with the flare which announce her ability to bear children, yet still narrowed somewhat and incomplete. The hair which sprouts on her body is uniform in its texture -- a golden silk which is almost invisible until backlit. Around her pussy and under her arms the hair is sparse indeed, confirming to me that Vika, like many northern Europeans has been slow to develop and mature, unlike those from more tropical climes.
"She may be in her late teens and legal", I tell myself, "but her body almost makes me feel guilty over my feelings of arousal, thanks to the strictures of modern society which are arbitrary indeed. We can allow the most grotesque deeds of violence and moral decay shown on television, but for a man to find the virginal purity of a young woman satisfying makes him a lecherous criminal. It's absurd, ambiguous and morally contrary".
I myself was a late bloomer, and now I attribute my youthful looks to that fact. I will admit that I had my moments of embarrassment as a swimmer, where in the tiny "tank" suits no secrets of anatomy can be hidden. More than once I was razzed for my lack of hair in my pits and around my crotch. I was eighteen, in my first year of college when nature finally kicked in, going into overdrive as I grew seven inches, developed a larger than average cock (which finally was in scale to my huge feet, keeping that old adage a truth), and grew hair, however sparse and fine, in all the appropriate regions.
I have just related all this to Vika, who was at first embarrassed by her own physical immaturity, until I reassured her that besides being a sign of a higher evolutionary state, she looks just fine to me. Which she does.
Somehow in these few weeks since her near drowning I have become her best friend, confidant, and now I'm not sure what. I never expected her to disrobe before me so I could offer an opinion on how she looks. But here I am, doing what she has asked, which is to give an honest evaluation of her young body. And to think I could be out on my terrace working on the book right now!
She reaches up and pinches her nipples, making them hard. Her breast buds are perky, and though it's apparent that while she'll never be "stacked", she will have a very pretty pair of breasts.
"Look, Derek," she says in a laughing tone, "my nips poke out like erasers when I do this! They stick out even farther when I'm cold."
I turned her back around by her shoulders so I could see. She gives them another pinch, pulling them away from her chest as if willing them to grow.
"What about when you're aroused, Vika?" I ask in the tone of a disinterested party. "Do they poke out through your bra so the boys can see them through your shirt?"
She blushes furiously and looks at the floor. "I haven't started wearing a bra yet," she confides. I usually wear T shirts. You know, the surf chick look....," she adds quickly, proud of her sport. "If my nips start to protrude I just hold my books up to hide them, or bend so my shirt hangs loose."
"But you do get aroused?" I continue, taking her nakedness as a sign of more than mere curiosity. I slide my hands down her sides, gripping her pelvic girdle for a moment before letting them continue to drop along the outsides of her thighs. Once below her butt cheeks, which as I noted earlier are her most maturely developed feature --- round and firm and shapely and very nice to cup in the palms of my hands--- I use my fingers to urge her knees away from each other, spreading her legs so they are shoulder width apart. She can't be more than five feet-two inches and weigh less than a hundred pounds. A tiny thing. Her legs are shapely, having just lost that skinny look to the more appealing roundness of the upper thigh leading to those nice hips and ass I told you about.
She blushes again and says nothing. Now I take my right hand and run it up the inside of her right leg, beginning at her knee and continuing until my index finger is pressed against her vulva. I wedge it between her labia majora, spreading her outer lips and exposing her inner ones which due to her sexual immaturity remain hidden from view. She looks at me with a shocked expression but remains still. I can't tell if she's excited or alarmed by my actions. I decide to find out, so I scoot the chair where I'm sitting closer and then use my thumbs to open her up. Her knees begin to buckle, and I catch her before she falls, pulling her into my lap so that she's now sitting on my left thigh, her legs crossing over my right. She is leaning back into my chest, and with my left hand I hold her under her arm, my first and second fingers scissoring her left nipple. My right hand is back between her legs, coaxing them apart and then opening her again. She looks up at me with her mouth open in surprise and her eyes wide in astonishment. Her breathing is coming in little huffs, shallow and fast.
I rub my middle finger across her little cunny, and feel her wetness lubricate it.
"Yes, you do get aroused," I whisper in her ear, nuzzling her long hair away from her ear and neck as I begin kissing her. My left hand is gently tweaking her nipple, and occasionally pinching and pulling it as she had done. Her juices really begin to flow now, and I pick her up and carry her from the kitchen into my bedroom. She lies back in my arms, still wearing that look of innocent surprise as she stares up at me.
