Yes

Godiva, Devonshire.
March 2018.

The sound of the alarm woke Krystal from her slumber. She struggled briefly to get out of the too-soft bed, and slapped the alarm off. She sat on the edge of the mattress and slowly tried to open her eyes. She was dressed in her pyjamas - a large Winnie the Pooh t-shirt that reached down to her thighs, and beneath that a pair of shorts. Her brown hair was poking out in a dozen different directions. The bedroom was large, but was made smaller by the clutter that had been left there. There were chests and drawers and tables covered in nick-knacks everywhere, while the walls were adorned with pictures of a man and woman Krystal didn't know posing with a young British Dave. The house was nice - a single floored bungalow with views of the beach - but it was clear that Dave had no intention of ever cleaning the place up.

Yawning heavily, Krystal got to her feet and walked past a glass door that led to the outside patio. She paused. Around the edges of the blinds, she was sure she could see... sunlight? Excitedly, she pushed them aside and peered out.

"Holy shit." she breathed. "Dave was right. The sun does come here sometimes."

This was her third day in Godiva, but it was the first day she hadn't been greeted with slate-grey skies and biting winds. The sun shone cheerfully overhead, and down below the waves looked calm and relaxed.

Less than thirty minutes later, Krystal stepped outside the front door. She placed the key under a conveniently placed garden gnome, and straightened up. Her outfit was a simple one. She wore a two-piece pink bikini, one she judged sturdy enough to swim in, and over that she wore a towel which was tightly tied under her armpit. That was it. She was fed up of wearing her wet-suit and water shoes; today she was determined to feel the sand beneath her feet and the sun on her back. Gripping her board under her other arm, she made her way towards the beach.

The village of Godiva was small - it contained a little under one hundred people. The houses were of all different sizes, but were pretty similar in terms of layout; behind the houses were decently sized gardens while at the front were smaller gardens. The village was comprised of three streets in a row; Dave's house was on the first row, backing right against the cliffs overlooking the beach, while the other two streets ran parallel to it. At one end the streets converged onto a single road which connected all three, while the other end was a roundabout which connected the village to the main road. The roundabout also acted as the village centre; it was surrounded by a few shops and pubs and even a church; Krystal hadn't really explored that much, so wasn't sure what else there was beyond them. She made her way down the street towards the roundabout with her bare feet chafing against the stone pavement. The village centre also provided access to the sand pathway which led down the cliff and onto the beach. The clifftop was fifty feet above the beach but the pathway was quite gentle and winding, and the edges were protected by wooden poles and rope fences, and it took less than a minute for Krystal to descend. The beach was, as it had been for the past two days, completely deserted. Not wanting to waste any time, Krystal dropped the towel onto the sand - revealing her tanned, toned body and c-cup breasts concealed by her bikini - and charged into the water.

She settled into a rhythm pretty quickly; paddle out to the waves, surf her way back towards the shore and then paddle back. Despite the mild weather, the waves were surprisingly choppy but she rather liked that. It felt more challenging.

The first incident occurred when the source of the waves - a strong breeze that the cliffs had been blocking - suddenly changed direction. Krystal had been standing on her board, easing her way along the crest of a wave, when suddenly the towel lifted up from the sand and was taken away on the wind. It distracted her enough that she fell off the board; by the time she climbed back onto it, spitting salt water out of her mouth, the towel was missing.

"Shit." she muttered.

That meant she'd be walking back home in just her bikini. A little bit embarrassing, she had to admit, but as she admired the warm weather and the constant waves she decided to carry on. She would be walking back in the bikini either way, so she reasoned she she may as well stay and enjoy the day a little longer.

Still, she felt she had to try to find the towel. She returned to the beach and walked a little further down it, where she thought the towel might have blown. She eased back into the water and began to paddle further out, her eyes wandering in search of the lost towel. That was the second incident. Had she been looking where she was going, she might have seen the odd way the water ahead twisted and moved the waves.

Her centre of gravity suddenly shifted as the board was pulled from underneath her. She crashed into the water but clung to her board as tightly as she could. She needed to. There was a strong undercurrent beneath the water, and if not for the board she would have been pulled under and never seen again. As it was she was twisted and yanked, tossed and turned, thrown back and forth until at last, clinging to the board with shaking hands, she emerged into calmer waters. Breathing heavily, she kicked her way back to the sand, tossed the board and collapsed onto her back.

She didn't know how long she lay there gathering her wits. It felt like hours, though later she realised it was probably only a few minutes. Once she felt herself again, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Something, she realised immediately, was amiss.

Or amissing.

She stared down at her breasts; the bare white skin stood in stark contrast to her tanned arms and neck. The only thing darker than her tan were her nipples, which were now fully on display. Beneath that, also paler than the skin around it, were her bare hips and crotch, which only a neat triangle of dark brown pubic hair was covering.

She was naked. Completely, and utterly, naked.