While Ms. Bailey lectures endlessly about passion or drive or something, you sneak behind the other tinies and climb up onto the bleachers, where the girls are sitting. You crawl along the cold metal bleacher, aiming for the closest girl. Her name is Abigail. She's a tall brunette with long wavy hair and dark eyelashes. She's wearing a purple bikini that's a few sizes too small. Her breasts are spilling over the top and her areolae are peeking through the edges of the fabric. Her bikini bottom is practically swallowed by her ass cheeks. She has the thickest thighs you've ever seen. You don't know how she can swim. She's paying rapt attention to Ms. Bailey, so there's no way she'll notice you.

You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of her toned legs, before walking up to her thigh. You can feel her warmth radiating off her skin. Your heart races as you reach out and brush your fingertips against her flesh, relishing the smooth, supple skin.

You grab on and begin climbing. You use all your strength to pull yourself up, inch by inch, until you finally reach the crest of her thigh. You're out of breath and sweating, but you feel exhilarated. You look across the top of her thigh, where you can see her bikini's side-tie. Down the front of her bikini bottom you can see her camel toe slightly. Your destination. You make a beeline for it, approaching the crest where her thigh meets her lower stomach.

The heat and musk get stronger and stronger as you approach her crotch. The scent is intoxicating, and you feel yourself growing harder. You reach the crest and start making your way down the valley between her thighs. As you slowly descend her thigh, you can see little hairs poking out of her bikini bottom, that would be invisible to anyone but you. 

Abigail shifts slightly, and suddenly, her thighs close together, trapping you in their grip. You gasp and struggle, but the pressure only grows tighter. As painful as it is, you're rock hard now and straining for release.

She was only adjusting herself - her thighs open back up, and you fall down onto the metal bleacher. It was just an inch or two, so you're okay. Right in front of you is the holy grail - her bikini-covered camel toe. You can't resist sticking a hand down your trunks at the majestic sight before you. The heat and the musk here is immense. Everything outside, even Ms. Bailey's speech, fades away.

It's dangerous, but should you get even closer?