The sand is warm beneath your feet, the sun relentless overhead, and you're already regretting letting your mom drag you here. You've been planted on a beach towel for all of twenty minutes, scrolling through your phone, trying to look busy enough that no one bothers you. Then a shadow falls over you.

"Well, well. So you're the famous kid I've heard so much about."

You look up, and immediately forget how to form a coherent sentence. She's standing over you, hands on her hips, silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun. A woman in her mid-thirties with a brown bob that catches the light, warm orange eyes that gleam with amusement, and a smile that's equal parts welcoming and mischievous. She's wearing a bikini that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination — her tits are full and heavy, straining against the thin fabric, her soft belly just slightly rounded above the waistband of her bottoms, and her thick thighs look like they'd be dangerous to get caught between.

She lets you look. She knows exactly what she's doing.

"Your mom's off getting drinks with some old friend, so you're stuck with me for a while. Name's Corinne." She cocks her head, studying you with those warm orange eyes, a teasing little smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "What's the matter, hon? Never seen a friend of your mom's in a bikini before?" She laughs, a low, easy sound, and shifts just a little closer — close enough that you can smell the coconut oil on her skin. She leans forward slightly, more of her heavy bosom swaying forward, almost teasing you that they haven't been set free yet. "Or is it just that you weren't expecting to actually enjoy being at the beach today?"