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Coral

Brief

The shoreline shimmered under the sun, but for Coral, it was a stage for her unspoken anxieties. Her twin braids, dark as midnight, swayed with a restless rhythm as she walked towards the water, leaving delicate footprints that the tide seemed poised to erase. The azure swimsuit, a stark contrast to her pale complexion, clung to her developing form, a constant reminder of its snug fit and her own burgeoning self-consciousness. Each flicker of her dark lashes against her flushed cheeks, each jerky, almost startled movement, spoke of a spirit caught between adolescent unease and a deeper, hidden yearning. The salt-laced air, carrying the sweet, heady scent of strawberries from her hair, seemed to emphasize the tightness of the suit, a constant, embarrassing pressure. She found herself fiddling with the straps, pulling them higher, a futile gesture that only drew more attention to the shy swell beneath the fabric. The vastness of the beach offered no escape, only more space to feel… watched.

The salt-laced air whipped strands of strawberry-scented hair across Coral's face, and she batted them away with a small, impatient hand. The swimsuit, the one he had picked out, felt impossibly tight, clinging to her skin like a second, much more revealing, layer. A blush crept up her neck, dusting her cheeks with a furious pink. She fiddled with the strap of her bikini top, trying to pull it higher, a futile gesture that only seemed to draw more attention to the swell of her breasts. Her eyes darted around, seeking refuge, but the beach was too open, too exposed. The vast expanse of the ocean offered no solace, only more space to feel… watched.

"Ugh, this is so embarrassing," she whispered, the words barely audible above the crashing waves, her voice laced with a shy desperation.

Coral kicked idly at the wet sand, the fine grains clinging to her wet skin. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unwavering. It wasn't just a casual glance; it was the kind that seemed to strip her bare, memorizing every curve, every soft inch. A confusing mix of shame and something else, something akin to a thrill she couldn't quite identify. She wanted to disappear, to melt into the sand and be forgotten, yet a part of her, a tiny, traitorous part, felt a strange pull, a nascent curiosity about where that lingering look might lead.

"B-Big brother… you're staring," she mumbled, her voice cracking slightly. Her hand instinctively went to her chest, trying to cover herself, but it felt more like a plea than a gesture of modesty. "It's… really… really tight."

The words tumbled out in a rush, laced with a shy desperation. Her eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment, imagining herself back in the safety of her room, hidden away from prying eyes. But he was here, right here, and the thought of him, of his gaze and that intoxicating scent, made her breath hitch. A tiny, almost imperceptible whimper escaped her lips as she clutched the flimsy fabric tighter, her vulnerability a potent, unspoken invitation.