The volleyball hit the sand with a dull thud, rolling unevenly toward the wooden bench where Daniel sat with his chemistry textbook open but unread. He’d been staring at the same page for twenty minutes, distracted by the rhythmic smack of palms against leather, the occasional shouts of players calling for passes. His fingers twitched against the spine of the book, restless.
All the players left, after practice was over on the beach. There she was, Keyla, the no nonsense team captain. She decided to stay to practice even more. She was focused. And Daniel couldn't help but stare.
Keyla wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist, her breath coming in short bursts as she crouched low, waiting for an imaginary serve. Her dark hair clung to her neck in damp strands. Even exhausted, she moved with a kind of precision that made Daniel’s throat tighten—like every muscle in her body knew exactly where to be, exactly when.
To him, her body moved in slow motion. It was like poetry. She was in the water, which made it even harder to look away. Every part of her body was wet. A bulge started to form in his pants.
She dove sideways into the shallow surf to intercept a ball that wasn’t there, and for a suspended second, her soaked colorful bikini top pressed transparent against her skin. Daniel swallowed hard. The water made everything sharper: the way her bikini clung to her ass, the sheen of sweat mixing with saltwater on her collarbone. His textbook slid off his lap into the sand, forgotten.
Keyla snatched up a loose ball and bounced it once, twice—her wrist flicking upward with practiced ease. A gust of wind caught it mid-air, sending it spinning wildly off-course. It landed inches from Daniel’s sneaker, sand spraying up in tiny flecks. He froze. The ball was close enough to smell the leather, faintly damp and salty from her hands.
She gasped and realized half a second later that the ball wasn't going to return to her. She sprinted forward eagerly with frustration on her face. Daniel could tell she had a lot on her mind. The pressure of winning and being the best was getting to her.
She sprinted toward him, her bare feet kicking up wet sand as she skidded to a stop. For a second, Daniel thought she might yell—her dark eyebrows were pinched together, lips parted like she was about to snap. But then her shoulders slumped. "I can't even control a damn serve today," she muttered, rubbing her wrist like it ached. The frustration in her voice was raw, almost desperate.
Daniel looked stunned, not knowing what to do, what to say, how to react. She looked at the ball with disappointment, still frustrated with herself. She then looked up, finally realizing that someone was there, that guy, that guy that would wave back at her in college. She was nice to everyone but now, he stood out as they locked eyes on the beach.
Daniel blushes and freaks out, realizing that a beautiful Asian girl was staring right at him. He scrambled to pick up the ball, almost dropping it completely, fingers fumbling against the grainy leather. "H-Here," he managed, holding it out like an offering. Their hands brushed—just for a second—and her skin was warm despite the ocean breeze. She didn't pull away. Instead, she studied him with an intensity that made his pulse stutter. "You're... Daniel, right?" The way she said his name—like she'd practiced it—sent a shiver down his spine.
She was thinking about something, not about his name, but about something else. The way his fingers twitched when she stepped closer. How his breath hitched when her wet bikini strap slipped off her shoulder. She started to lick her lips—slow, deliberate—as if tasting the salt on her own skin. It was as if something inside her snapped as she thought about this shy boy that was sitting randomly on a desolate beach. "Were... Were you staring at me practicing just now?" Her voice was softer than he expected, almost teasing.
"Oh ummm... Y-yes, I mean no, no! I was saying yes to my name Daniel. And no to staring at you... I w-wouldn't, I wouldn't stare ma'am."
"Ma'am?" She chuckled. To Daniel, it was odd to see a girl laugh. Most of the time it was laughing at him because of something clumsy he did that would make him look like a complete loser.
But this was different—her laugh wasn’t mocking. It was low, husky, like she’d just woken up. Keyla tilted her head, water dripping from her hair onto her bare shoulder. "You’re cute when you’re nervous," she murmured, taking the ball from his trembling hands and spinning it lazily on one finger. The leather made a soft, rhythmic squeak against her skin.
"Do you like me, Daniel?" Her voice was softer now, teasing, eyelashes fluttering like she already knew the answer. The question hung between them, charged with something hotter than the afternoon sun. Daniel’s mouth went dry. He could smell the coconut sunscreen on her skin, the salt tang of the ocean clinging to her.
"I-I-I should go... I'm late for something, I think." As Daniel was about to turn around, Keyla grabbed his arm. 93Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrCxRi5fX6O
"You probably like Asian girls, huh. I can tell by the way you look at me." Her eyes looked right into his soul and she right away knew the answer. He started to blush, his face completely flustered, not knowing what to say.
Keyla stepped closer, letting the volleyball roll away into the sand. Her fingers trailed up his arm—slow, deliberate—until they brushed the edge of his t-shirt collar. "You’re shaking," she murmured, her breath warm against his neck. The way she said it wasn’t mocking. It was hungry. Like his nervousness was something she wanted to unravel.
What Keyla said next changed Daniel's entire life. "Come to my house. My parents will be gone tonight and we could…” She blushed and stopped for a moment to compose herself. She gulps down air and finishes with, “I could… suck your cock and make you cum.” Daniel blushed, but he could tell it didn’t even faze her to say those words.
Daniel’s mind short-circuited. This wasn’t real. Girls like Keyla didn’t corner shy nerds on empty beaches and whisper filth with their lips still wet from the ocean. But her nails dug into his wrist when he tried to step back, anchoring him there. "Say yes," she breathed. "Or I’ll know you’ve been lying about staring." The threat in her voice was playful, but her pupils were blown wide—dark enough to drown in.
Daniel's heart was racing. All he could do in that situation was nod. He could hardly speak. He could hardly process what exactly was going on. He wanted to avoid staring at her wet bikini body, her wet breasts and ass.
The saltwater had made her bikini cling to every curve, the fabric gone sheer where it stretched tightest. Daniel’s throat clicked as he swallowed. He couldn’t stop noticing the way her nipples pebbled under the damp material, or how droplets slid down the valley between her breasts. His jeans tightened painfully, and she noticed—her gaze flicking down, then back up with a slow, knowing smirk. "I’ll take that as a yes," she murmured.
She told him to wait there and she finally gave him her address.
Keyla’s fingers lingered on his wrist a heartbeat longer than necessary before she pulled away, her touch burning even after she retreated. “You better show up,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried over the crash of waves. “I don’t like to be ghosted. And I don’t like liars.” Her gaze locked onto his, unblinking, as if she could peel back his skull and count every panicked thought scrambling behind his eyes. “I’ll show you what I want and when I want it. Do you understand, Daniel?” The way she said his name—sharp, possessive—sent a jolt straight to his groin. Daniel nods nervously. As soon as she saw his response she turned around and walked away. Water was still dripping from her long black hair, rolling down her curvy plump ass.
Daniel looks down at his cellphone nervously. He holds his cellphone firmly in his hand with her address written on it. He then looks back up and notices her soaking wet ass bouncing up and down as she returns to her towel laying on the beach. The volleyball was a couple of inches away from Daniel. He noticed that she didn't bother to pick it up. It was a tactic. She knew he would make the effort to return it to her. She grabbed her things and quickly took off. He was frozen in place, still trying to process what had just happened. He grabs her ball and takes it to his car.
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