Beach Blossom
Marley Quinn
Beach Blossom
by Marley Quinn
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Beach Blossom
by Marley Quinn
© 2026 Marley Quinn
All rights reserved.
Author: Marley Quinn
Contact details: marleyquinn.reformist760@passinbox.com
Twitter/X: marleyquinn2000
Book cover, illustration: Marley Quinn
Editing, proofreading: Marley Quinn
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Table of Contents
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
1 - Zara
2 - Zara
3 - Kane
4 - Kane
5- Zara
6 - Zara
7 - Kane
8 - Kane
9 - Zara
10 - Zara
11 - Kane
12 - Kane
13 - Zara
14 - Zara
15 - Kane
16 - Kane
17 - Kane
Also by Marley Quinn
1 - Zara
I just about spit out my cornflakes when my mother drops the bomb on me that my stepbrother Kane is getting out of prison.
“What?” I splutter before grabbing a napkin to mop off my chin.
“Don’t you remember, honey?” says my mom. “I told you the lawyers were very optimistic about his parole hearing. Well, the board agreed that he’s been a model prisoner and is no longer a danger to society, so he’s coming home!”
“Oh,” I say, my heart sinking.
The truth is that I barely remember Kane. When his mother and my dad got married, I was still pretty young, and Kane was just this hulking presence in the house with bangs over his eyes, always stomping around angrily and muttering to himself.
Our parents had barely been together for a month when Kane got arrested. Even today, I’m not really clear on all the details. All I know is that it had something to do with him attacking a teacher and hurting him so badly that he nearly died.
I remember his mother crying a lot and that there was a lot of talk about lawyers and the trial, but then Kane was found guilty, and that was the end of it. I literally never saw him again. The prison where he was locked up was really far away, and so Mom could only make the trip once or twice a year.
She never really talked about him too much, probably because he was such a big disappointment. She’s such a sweet lady with a kind heart, so I really don’t even understand how her son could’ve turned out to be such a monster.
“The lawyers called and said he’ll be getting out this morning, and they’ll make sure to it that he gets on the bus,” Mom tells me, jolting me out of my reverie. “Isn’t that great, honey? He'll be getting into town tonight, just in time for him to join us on our beach trip!”
“Oh no!” I wail.
Our beach trip? It’s the thing I’ve been dreaming about all year! Throughout the winter when it was so cold and dreary outside, thinking about going to the beach was the only thing that kept me going.
Instead of being wrapped in three layers of clothes and still freezing my butt off, I would picture myself in a bikini, my skin golden tan as the warm breeze ran through my hair. I could just feel the soft sand between my toes and hear the gentle crash of the waves.
The beach was my happy place, and now my criminal stepbrother was going to show up at the last minute? He was going to ruin everything!
“Don’t you give me that face, Zara,” Mom says, shaking her head. “Kane is a good boy. You’ll see. He made a mistake, but he's paid for that mistake.”
“But Mom...” I say, hating the whiny tone I can hear in my voice.
“Hush now,” said my mother. “Besides, I think it’s good that the two of you will get a chance to get to know one another before you head off to college.”
“I don’t want to get to know him,” I say, my appetite completely gone.
“Sure you do, sweetie,” says Mom. “He’s part of your family.”
“No, he’s not!” I sulk.
“Zara, what has gotten into you, young lady?” says Mom with a frown. “That’s not the attitude I expected from you. Do you remember when you and I first met and you were worried I was going to replace your biological mother?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling a bit guilty.
“Well, look how well the two of us get along now,” says Mom with a big smile. “The same will be true with Kane once you get to know him.”
“Ugh, fine,” I say.
“He’s been away in an unpleasant place for a long time,” says Mom. “So I want you to make him feel very welcome when he gets here. Do you understand?”
“I said fine, didn’t I?” I say, feeling more than a little annoyed.
“Good, that’s a good girl,” says Mom, patting the back of my hand. “I think this is a sign, you know?”
“Huh?” I say, confused.
“Well, as you know, your Dad and I have been trying to give you a little sister or brother,” says Mom, a merry glint in her eyes. “With Kane joining us and making our family whole again, maybe that’s a sign that we’ll have a new member soon!”
“Great,” I say, doing my best not to let her hear the sarcasm in my voice.
I know Kane coming home is making her happy, but it’s the last thing I want. Even if he hadn’t beaten a teacher nearly half to death, the truth is that his presence is coming at the most inconvenient time possible.
You see, what my parents don’t know is that I have a secret boyfriend.
2 - Zara
Our plan is to meet up at the beach.
Then, whenever my parents are distracted, I will sneak off and go see him. But with Kane around, I might not get that chance. Mom might want me to hang out with Kane and show him around since he’s never been there, so then how am I going to find the time to be together with my forbidden sweetie?
Why did that stupid parole board have to let my stepbrother go? He’d already been in there for years. What would staying in prison for a couple more weeks hurt? And why does have to come here and be with us? Kane is a couple of years older than me. He’s an adult. If he’s really rehabilitated or whatever, he should get his own place. And a job, too.
And what if I run into one of my friends at the beach? What am I going to tell them if they see Kane? No one at school knows I have a criminal stepbrother. They’re gonna think I’m some kind of lowlife if they find out. Fitting in is hard enough as it is, so I really don’t need the drama of trying to explain who Kane is and what he’s done.
“Have you finished packing your suitcase yet?” says Mom, once again jolting me out of my train of thought.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah,” I say, although the truth is that I’ve barely gotten started.
“Good. Make sure it’s out in the hallway before you go to bed tonight so Dad can load it into the car,” says Mom. “Remember, we leave first thing in the morning.”
“I got it, Mom, sheesh,” I say.
“All right, we’ll I’ve got some last-minute errands to take care of, so I’ll leave you to it,” Mom says before getting to her feet. “Oh and sweetie, one more thing, yeah?”
“What?” I say.
“I’m not trying to start an argument with you,” Mom says. “But please don’t bring any outfits that are too revealing. And before you say anything, I don’t care what the other girls are wearing. In this family, we’re all about dignity and self-respect.”
“Just relax, okay?” I say, now feeling even more annoyed.
“Great!” Mom says before leaning in to give me a kiss on the top of my head. “Okay, I should be home before dinner. If you get hungry, there’s some cut fruit in the fridge. Bye, sweetie.”
“Bye, Mom,” I say.
I sit there at the table and idly drag my spoon through the bowl of cereal I know I’m not going to eat. After a few minutes, I hear the front door close and then the sound of the car pulling out of the driveway. Feeling completely deflated, I wash my dishes and then head up to my room.
First, my stupid stepbrother is coming on the beach trip I’ve been dreaming about all year, and now my mom is yelling at me about not bringing anything too revealing? It’s so unfair! How am I ever going to get a chance to impress my sweetie if I can’t wear anything cute?
It’s not like I own anything that revealing anyway. Some girls at school go around wearing the most shocking outfits possible, including skin-tight leggings that leave nothing to the imagination and deep-cut tops that make it obvious that they aren’t wearing a bra.
There’s certainly nothing like that in my closet, although sometimes I wish there was. No, about all I’ve got is a couple of crop tops that show off a bit of my belly, one pair of tight shorts, and some skirts that run on the shorter side, certainly nothing too scandalous. I can understand why my mom wouldn’t want me to wear some of that stuff to school, but at the beach? Come on!
Everyone will be prancing around the sand half-naked anyway. Does Mom really think some guy is going to see me in a crop top and lose his mind when there are girls walking around in bikinis with their boobs about to fall out? It’s so ridiculous.
I don’t care if we’re a conservative family. I’m determined to wear something cute, especially for my rendezvous with my sweetie. If I show up to the beach wearing baggy trousers, he’s going to think I’ve turned into some kind of fundamentalist or something and lose all interest in me. I told him I’m a free-spirited and wild girl, and that’s the truth, at least it’s who I wish I was. And I’m determined to have at least a little fun before I get old!
That’s why I hide my cutest outfits in the bottom of my suitcase underneath all the other stuff, just in case my Mom checks. My hands are trembling a bit as I also get out the secret bikini I bought with my friend Grace a couple of weeks ago at the mall and slip it into a side pocket of my suitcase. Most of my swimsuits are pretty tame, but this one is bright pink and pretty much shows off my entire backside.
I spent a whole hour in the dressing room, debating whether or not to buy it. Grace kept telling me it made me look fabulous and really showed off my curves in a flattering way, but I’ve never worn anything like it in public before. Plus, it cost about every cent I had to my name. But in the end, I decided to go for it, thinking that my sweetie would hopefully swoon at my feet when he saw me in it.
Since then, that bikini felt like it was burning a hole in my dresser drawer, a radioactive secret that I could never let my parents find out about. A couple of times, in the middle of the night, when I was sure everyone was asleep, I took it out and put it on, turning and twisting in front of the mirror as I examined myself from every angle. It was definitely eye-catching, that was for sure, and every time I looked at my reflection, I felt a strange thrill inside my belly.
It was as if a totally different girl was looking back at me, one who was sexy and stunning and brimming with self-confidence. She was gorgeous, the kind who would turn heads as she breezed past the hot guys who hang out at the beach. Then, when the butterflies dancing around inside of me got into a frenzy, I’d tear off the bikini as fast as I could, stash it back in my dresser drawer and hop into bed, all kinds of wild and vivid thoughts flashing through my mind before I finally drifted off to sleep.
But now, with the big beach trip finally happening, the question was - would I ever get a chance to wear it?
And if so, what would the results be?
3 - Kane
The bus station smells like ass, and there are bums curled up on some of the benches, but I don’t care.
I’m free. Finally! After five years in that hellhole they call the Youth Correctional Center, anywhere would look like paradise, even this run-down shit heap of a bus station.
My lawyers bought me a bus ticket, so at least I don’t have to stand in line with the shambling wrecks that I see everywhere around here. For what my mom is paying those guys, they should’ve given me chauffeured limousine service, but hey, like I said, I can’t complain. I’m finally free, and that’s worth more than even the fanciest ride.
My bus isn’t leaving for another twenty minutes, but I get onboard anyway. It’s imperative that I get a seat near the window so I can watch the countryside roll by. I’ve been staring at gray concrete for so long, that I can’t wait to see some green as well as any other lifelike colors. I could stare at a forest all day if you let me.
I’m really stoked that my mom said we’re going to be going on a trip to the beach tomorrow. I can’t wait to stand there and look out on a horizon that goes on forever.
In prison, there’s always a wall or door blocking your view, and even on the rare occasions where you get to go outside, the barbed wire and guard towers ruin everything. Sometimes, I used to stare straight up at the sun until my eyes started to hurt just so I would have one thing to look at that wasn’t connected to prison life.
But a whole ocean to look at? Hell yes! And feel the breeze on my face, too. In prison, you’re either freezing to death in the winter or boiling alive in the summer. I can’t wait to go somewhere with some fresh air that doesn’t stink like overcooked hot dogs or ramen noodle flavoring packets. In fact, if I never see ramen again in my life, I’ll be happy. Everyone in prison uses the money their families send them to buy it because it’s better than the food they give you in the chow line, but the smell of it makes me sick now.
It’s not just the ocean breeze and the panoramic view I’m excited about. Beaches mean girls in bikinis, and it’s been WAY too long since I’ve seen any hot girls. Being cooped up all day with nothing but guys may be one of the worst parts of prison, if I’m being honest. I know some guys find a little “comfort” with their fellow inmates, but not me. I’m only into girls. And I can’t wait to get my first glimpse of some genuine boobs.
Actually, fuck that. I want to do a lot more than glimpse, if you know what I’m saying, hehehe. I want to do some touching and some rubbing and some grabbing, maybe even some licking and sucking if I get lucky. I’ve been gone for so long that I have no idea if I’ve got what it takes to pick up girls, but I’m damned sure gonna try. In fact, just thinking about talking to a chick is giving me a hard-on.
In prison, the one thing you have in abundance is free time, and we used to sit around and talk about what we were gonna do when we got out. One of my cellmates named Ricardo would always boast about how he was going to go to the strip club and bring half a dozen girls back to his house for a champagne party that would last all night until dawn. Personally, I think he’s full of shit because how in the hell is gonna pay for all that? But it was a fun thing to fantasize about, that’s for sure.
My mom’s a sweet lady, but she certainly doesn’t have that kind of money to blow to celebrate me getting out, not that I’d ask her to even if she did because she certainly wouldn’t approve. But that’s all right. I don’t need a bunch of high-dollar strippers and champagne.
All I need is a girl with some curves on her and a juicy pussy that I can plow until I bust my nut. She doesn’t even have to be that good looking either. As long as she’s a real girl and not one of those trannies or whatever they call it, I am definitely down to clown.
Hell yeah. Just some little mamacita strolling along the beach, showing off her bodacious body in a skimpy little bikini. That’s all I need, along with maybe one of those drinks with a paper umbrella in them.
I’ll take her somewhere private, get her to suck my dick a little maybe, and then I’ll smash that pussy until she’s screaming. Then I’ll go lay out in the sun a little to recharge and then rinse, lather, and repeat. The way I’m feeling right now? I could easily go through a whole box of condoms in a day, that’s for sure, hehehe.
Unfortunately, there’s no sexy chicas on the bus, not even close. I see a couple of old biddies in the back, clutching onto their purses and chatting to themselves. Maybe 50 years ago they might’ve been cute, but I’m not into the gray-haired set, not even close. I like ’em young and fresh.
In fact, my ideal girl is what I call a zit. That’s not an insult or anything. I call ’em zits because they’ve got all their hormones swirling around, but they ain’t had any proper dick yet, so they look like they’re ready to pop.
Hell yeah. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Find me a zit, slide my big old cock inside of her and watch as she explodes. At least that’s the theory, anyway. The truth is that I only got to have sex three times before the fucking cops hauled me off after that idiot Mr. Fisher badmouthed me in class.
And two of those times were in the back seat of Stacy’s car, and we were so jammed up in that tight space that I could barely move my hips right. The third time was pretty good, though. Kelly Bronwin let me take her from behind doggystyle on the living room couch when she was babysitting and called me to come over after she’d broken into the wine stash they had in the cupboard.
But all that was a long time ago. Since then, it’s just been me beating my beat whenever I get a chance, and that just isn’t the same, is it? Yeah, I need a real girl to fuck, and as horny as I am, I’ll take just about anybody. Well, not the strung-out junkie woman sitting a few seats ahead of me. I can’t tell if she’s 40 years old or just looks it because she’s been hitting the pipe too much. I’m desperate, but not desperate enough to hit that, you know what I mean? Hehehe.
Maybe I’ll get lucky and some hottie passenger will get onboard somewhere down the line, but I doubt it. Only poors, losers, and junkies take long-distance buses in America. I heard in Europe and other places, it might be different, but ain’t no hottie going to take the bus when every simp in town would drool at the opportunity to drive her where she needs to go.
Nonetheless, I can always hope, right? That’s what kept me going throughout the trial and all the other bullshit.
Hope that one day I’ll get to clear my name.
4 - Kane
Sure, in prison, it helped a lot that I had a rep as a badass, the guy who beat a teacher to a bloody pulp.
Everyone assumed I was tough, so they didn’t mess with me. But the truth is that I barely laid a hand on Mr. Fisher, and all the shit that the prosecutor said at the trial about how I was this bloodthirsty monster made me so angry. That’s not who I am!
But did anyone care? No, of course not. The fucker actually showed up wearing a cast and using crutches, and the the jury took one look at him and then one look at me, and my goose was cooked.
Eh, not really worth thinking about now. All that matters is that my lawyers finally got me out. I’m a free man and can do whatever I want. It’s kinda crazy, though, to think that just a few hours earlier, I was wearing my orange jumpsuit while standing in the chow line, and tomorrow I’m going to be at the beach!
Life is like that, though. You never know what the fuck is going to happen, so you gotta make the most of it while you can.
Finally, the bus gets rolling. I keep my eyes glued to the window, but it takes us almost half an hour before we finally get out of the city and the land starts to open up. My heart races every time I see a cow, even though none of the other passengers seem to give a shit.
But who cares, man, you know? Seeing those cows out there standing in the field, just chewing their cud and minding their own business makes me happy. No one’s telling them to line up at roll call at fucking 5:30 in the morning or patting them down to make sure they aren’t smuggling a weapon. Nope. Those cows are doing what they want, exactly like me now.
A couple of hours later, we stop in some shit town for a restroom break. The bus pulls up in front of a convenience store and gas station. I go inside and the air-conditioning has me shivering almost immediately, but nobody else seems to mind. I don’t have any cash on me, so I just mosey around, looking at all the brightly colored crap on sale.
I see a couple of women who aren’t too bad looking, maybe mid-30s with a bit of a gut, but it doesn’t matter as we’re leaving in a few minutes. Still, though, I watch them real good, trying to imagine what kind of panties they’re wearing underneath those jeans and if they keep their bush trimmed or not.
I’ve got a pretty good hard-on going by the time I get back on the bus, and it feels good. For once, I’m not staring at some cum-stained porno picture someone smuggled into the prison. It feels so much nicer when a real woman gets your juices flowing.
A few new passengers get onboard, but they’re all guys except for another old woman who’s balding on top and wearing makeup above her eyes instead of real eyebrows, which is just gross. But that’s all right. I’ve waited all this time to get some pussy. I can wait a little while longer.
When the sun goes down, I fall asleep. The next thing I know, we’re pulling into a bus station, and that’s when I finally start to get excited. This is my destination! Sure enough, I spot my mom standing in the crowd of junkies, losers, and deadbeats.
I didn’t see her often when I was locked up, but I really treasured every visit. She's the one person who always believed in me.
My heart is really racing as I get off the bus, and then she’s got her arms wrapped around me, and I’m so happy that I could almost cry.
She’s chattering away a mile a minute as she takes me out to where her car is parked, but I don’t mind. It’s just so good to see her and touch her without guards watching us like a hawk.
She asks me if I’m hungry, and I say no because my stomach is too twisted up. Anyway, I can eat later, you know? Right now, it’s enough that I’m finally home. She puts on some music, and I just kick back and focus on enjoying my freedom.
I guess I must’ve fallen asleep again because when I open my eyes, we’re outside the house. I’d nearly forgotten about how it looked because I’d only lived there a couple of months before I got arrested. It seems impossibly big, and most of the windows are illuminated, which gives it a really friendly vibe, which I like. It’s almost as if the house is welcoming me home too, you know?
My mom gets out of the car and I follow her up to the front door. I guess her husband must have been watching out for us because he opens the door just as we finish climbing the steps. He holds out his hand and we shake. He’s got a really strong grip, but I can’t help but notice how smooth his skin is, like he doesn’t do much physical work. Still, though, he looks happy to see me, which is cool.
It’s only when we all step into the living room that I feel my breath get sucked out of my chest. There’s a girl standing there, and for a split second, I think I must be imagining things. But then my mom does the introductions, and that’s when I realize she’s my stepsister, Zara. Woah! She looks NOTHING like what I remember.
Long gone is the skinny brat with braids who was running around during the wedding reception and knocking things over. Instead, the person standing before me is a gorgeous specimen of young womanhood with a generous booty and a wicked set of tits, although it’s hard to see them well under the oversized sweatshirt she’s wearing. What really gets me is her eyes, though.
The way they’re sparkling, plus the little smile playing on her luscious lips, has all my bells ringing, you know what I’m saying? She’s acting all shy, pretending like she barely knows who I am, but I can see that she’s checking me out. In fact, as my mom and stepdad stand around chatting about dinner plans and other nonsense I don’t pay any attention to, there’s only one thing on my mind.
This girl is a prime zit. I seriously cannot wait to make her go pop!