At the Beach

The rest of Tilda's morning went as normal. She blow-dried her hair, changed into her favorite summer-themed blouse and joined her family for breakfast. Her little brother by three years, Luke, was already wolfing down his food, barely even noticing her arrival. Livia, their mother, set out Tilda's breakfast and explained how all the necessary amenities for the trip like suntan lotion, towels, etc. were already packed in the car, so they could leave as soon as breakfast was over.

Livia was a forty-three-year-old bank manager, whose dedicated work ethic was only preceded by her punctual nature. Her husband was no longer in the picture, so she solely supported herself and her two children, managing to build a comfortable life here in the States. She had aged gracefully as a woman despite hardships. Her face had maintained its youthfulness and vitality (sharing her daughter's striaght blonde hair and blue eye), and the same could be said for her body. While no longer slim, Livia kept herself toned through constant workout. Where she had curves, Livia made sure to dress in a way that accentuated their beauty and sway. It was clear to see where Tilda had gotten both her looks and fashion sense from.

"Tilda, please make sure that everything you need is in the car before we head out. I placed your swimsuit already, the one you laid out yesterday," Livia said in her native language.

"Ok, sure mom", Tilda lackadaisically responded, her eyes still glued to her Instagram posts.

Livia scoffed at her daughter's automatic response, but carried on with getting everything ready, determined to get her family to the beach before it became too crowded. Tilda heard her mom's instruction, but really couldn't bother to check that everything was taken. She was much too absorbed in the latest fashion trends (that celebrity wore _what _to the Cannes Film Festival!) and was sure that it wouldn't cause any problems later.

Soon, the Claessons were off, reaching the beach as scheduled and securing a nice comfy patch of sand to set up their towels and umbrella. While Livia went to rent some tanning chairs with Luke following, Tilda went to the shower and change facility, eager to take some pics with the trendy designer brand swimsuit she had picked out the day before.

After showering and taking out her blouse, she opened the bag that was supposed to contain her new swimsuit. However, she was shocked to find that the bag did not contain her new swimsuit at all! Instead, she found an old bikini bottom and top. The top was an off white that was designed to push up her breasts and emphasize their shape, while the bottom was navy blue. The problem was, these were quite old, and wouldn't fit her properly (and they certainly weren't pic-worthy).

Tilda racked her brain to figure out what happened, when it hit her. Yesterday, when she had set out her new swimsuit, she was also sifting through her old swimwear to determine which ones to throw out. She must have accidentally kept this set of swimwear next to the one she intended to take, and her mother must have packed the former. Tilda cursed, berating herself for not checking the packed amenities like her mother instructed earlier.

Now having ****, Tilda slipped on the bikini. It was a very simple make; the top had a clasp at the back with thin straps going over her shoulders. As it was old, the bikini hugged her body very tightly. The top pressed up against her breasts, and the thin fabric meant that her areolas were almost visible. The straps, which should have gone over shoulders, were strained so that they were much closer to her neck. The material was very soft and thin, and she could easily feel the sensitivity of her breasts through the fabric. The bottom also clung tightly to her skin, so much so that the sides of her vulva were peeking out a little. It was a little uncomfortable, the underwear digging into her vulva almost like a wedgie. Tilda tried to adjust it, but it remained tight and uncomfortable, biting into her sensitive regions. Eventually Tilda resigned herself to her fate, adjusting her bottom so that the self-inflicted wedgie was least painful, and stepped out of the shower facility.

It was still quite early in the morning, and the beach had much fewer people and was less noisy than usual. Tilda wandered off to a section of the beach that was a bit more isolated. She certainly couldn't take any selfies with her embarrassingly tight swimwear and couldn't bring herself to chat up her friends, so she kept her phone away to take in the natural beauty of the sea, a rare moment of introspection for the normally textaholic teen.

Tilda stood with her arms folded, the sea lapping at the shore several feet away from her. She thought back to the prior incidents of the day, remembering how much **** her crotch had taken, and how it still stung from the tight bikini. She wasn't sure why her tender regions were predisposed to being injured, but she hoped that it wouldn't happen for the rest of the day. After all, if she just kept to herself and tanned on the beach, then surely, she couldn't get into any more painful accidents, right?

Little did Tilda know, her hopes for a pain-free day were about to be thoroughly dashed by a particular individual. Tilda would experience cuntbusts and titbusts of all kinds, due to a person in her life that she's very familiar with, who was approaching her that very moment.