The Flirty Realtor (Retro Lesbian Dream Girls 2) by Amanda Clover

Author:Amanda Clover [Clover, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-01T16:00:00+00:00

The Beach

Clark Castellano turned out to be like every other boy that had come onto me, but more handsome. He had sandy brown hair and friendly brown eyes and an easy smile. His tan was California perfect and his body was lean and muscular. He drank Budweiser and put his arm around me and sang along to the radio stuck into the sand next to the bonfire. When he slipped a hand under my t-shirt and made a move to kiss me, I pulled away.

“Sorry,” I said, getting up from the driftwood we were using as a bench. “I’m not really feeling too good.”

As excuses go, it was lame, but he let me go. I left the bonfire and Gretchen and her friends behind me and wandered into the darkness along the beach. The moon was almost full and it was a clear night. I was wearing Clark’s jacket to keep me warm against the chilly air. I was so lame. The fat girl from New York, wearing jeans to the beach and refusing to take off her shirt.

I didn’t like Clark, but I hated Steve. That was Gretchen’s boyfriend. Just as handsome as Clark or Davis Brant or any of these California hunks. He was worse than all of them. He stood between me and Gretchen.

I seethed at the way he handled Gretchen possessively and kissed her and caressed her and she so obviously liked it. I hated when she left me by the fire with Clark and went skinny dipping. Even my glimpses of Gretchen didn’t make up for my jealousy. I saw her pert breasts and tiny nipples stiff against the breeze, her firm butt flashing pale against the moon as she dove into the surf. Laughing, kicking her long legs as Steve picked her up like a groom carrying his bride.

The night had turned so bitterly. I fought back tears and kept walking along the beach, towards the distant lights of the beach house where our night had begun. Nobody was home. They were all out playing and laughing in the surf. Being cool. Being California cool.

I sunk onto a chair on the porch, the light of the bonfire in the distance, and I began to cry. I was doing it to myself. Why couldn’t I just have fun? Drink a little more and make out with Clark?

Duh! Because that wasn’t what I wanted. Wasn’t who I was. I couldn’t pretend to like guys. I didn’t want to start a new life here having boyfriends and holding hands with them. Letting them slobber on me and grope me.

I shuddered at the memory of Clark’s hand sliding under my shirt. It repulsed me. But then I remembered Gretchen’s fingers, brushing against my nipple. Bending my plump bud and sending pleasure crackling to my core.

“I wondered where you went!” Gretchen called as she ran up to the porch. She was wearing her bikini bottoms and a t-shirt for a surf shop called Petey’s that clung to her damp breasts.

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