The water felt warm since the early morning air was cool. It promised to be a hot and sunny day. I would run errands and cycle with the bike club that evening. Looking down the beach, I could see a person with a dog in the distance. The person was way off, and I could not tell if it was a man or a woman. The other direction of the beach was deserted. I removed the robe and placed it with my sandals higher on the beach out of reach of the ebbing water.
Nude, I walked back to the water and entered to about my knees. The swells pushed the water higher. It felt good. Cool, but not unpleasant, so I slowly moved deeper. The water splashed higher and wet my belly. I stayed at that depth and surveyed the shore. No one was visible except for the distant figure with the dog. I splashed water on my shoulders and wet my breasts. I dove in. The chill was brief, and I swam out from the shore. Soon the water felt great. Swimming nude was a special pleasure. The feel of nothing hindering my movement beckoned me to swim faster and farther from shore. I stopped to tread water and scan the beauty of the scene. At the boundary of land and sea, I floated and understood that I was drawn powerfully to this place. Looking back, it was a turning point towards a decision about life back in the city.
I floated and let the current carry me along. I rolled to my back and back-stroked in the rolling swells. After some time, I swam with a breaking wave back to shore. Coming out of the water into the air brought on a chill. I walked down the beach and retrieved my robe. I used it to dry my face. Putting it back on, I shivered slightly and watched the sun glow along the horizon. My nipples were tingling and hard. If only I had brought a camera, I thought, as I gently tweaked one. My king would enjoy a picture of his wet concubine. The sun was higher now, and I walked back through the dunes to the shore road and crossed it to my driveway.
At the house I passed through the gate to the garden and washed the sand off in the outdoor shower. Inside, I made coffee and listed the errands I'd need to run. To my surprise it was just after 6 o’clock.
I tidied up the house getting the laundry done and the kitchen cleaned. Doing this in the nude felt satisfying somehow, and the job was soon done. I watered the garden. I was industrious and wondered if the afterglow of the weekend's sexuality was energizing me this way. I decided it was. It felt good to be nude in my house, and the freedom lifted my spirits.
I dressed for a hot day and ran errands. First stop was the hardware store to get paint chips to select colors for the last bedroom. The guy in the store was helpful as usual, and we chatted about my aunt and uncle. I informed him they were enjoying their travels and staying in touch. He asked if I was okay in the house. It was a kind inquiry without a hint of ulterior motive. I assured him my summer was going well. Living in a small community has it charms. The friendliness of neighbors, I observed, was something I'd not experienced much back in the city.
I swung by the bike shop to pick up cycling shorts and a jersey. A young girl was at the register, and a tech was tuning a bike in the work area. She showed me a rack of women's clothes and offered to help if I needed anything. The shorts were lycra and included a chamois pad in the crotch area. They did not look especially comfortable. I selected a black pair my size then searched for a jersey. I found two that I liked. One was a simple white sleeveless top; the other was green and short-sleeved. Both had three large pockets sewn in the back. I brought them to the counter and paid. We chatted and I explained this was all new to me and that the women in the cycling club recommended I buy the clothes. The girl in the shop advised that I would find them much more comfortable than regular shorts. I laughed and confided that I had learned, the painful way, that regular shorts were a bad choice.
I asked if the owner was in and explained that he had fit me to my new bike. It turned out she was his niece and attended the local college. She told me he often cycled before work and was likely coming in later. She advised he would join the riding group that evening. She thought he was a fanatical cyclist and commented that he cycled several hundred miles per week. That seemed excessive to me, and I looked perplexed. She saw my reaction and seemed amused. "You should ask him about his training. He's obsessive about it. So are some of the guys he rides with." I nodded knowingly. "Yeah, those men look good to me," I confided. Her eyes caught mine and we shared a flash of appreciation. I regained my decorum and collected my purchases.
Later that afternoon I wore the new apparel and rode to the meeting place. Once again two groups formed and cycled off. I rode with the leisurely group and kept up. We chatted some as we rode, but mostly pedaled. After maybe ten miles, we stopped atop a small crest at the shore. We rested and watched as the elite group approached along the shore road. They passed before us, and we all marveled at their speed and cadence. "These guys are good," somebody exclaimed as they sped by. I recalled my comment to the girl in the shop about their fitness. "These men look good to me," I silently thought. Just might take one home to see." I suspect similar thoughts flashed through the heads of the admiring women.
We assembled and rode swiftly back to town. At the pub we gathered for our usual end-of-ride celebration. The talk was friendly, and I met more of the group. It felt good to be among a happy and accepting crowd.
As we were breaking up to go home, a group of the elite cyclists made plans for a party on the beach after Wednesday's ride. The forecast was for hot days and warm nights for the next week. Apparently, a custom of the group was to pack into SUV's and drive out onto the dunes past the state beach. The enthusiasm for the event was contagious, and I indicated that I might go. It really depended on who was planning to go, and if I would be comfortable with the crowd.
After Wednesday's ride about fifteen people gathered to go out to the dunes. The remaining went to the pub as usual. I decided to go out to the dunes and rode with Eric and Tim, two of the racer types. Tim was accompanied by his girlfriend, Heather, who worked for a local restaurant. Eric, I learned, had a girlfriend who was away on an internship for school. I cycled back to my house and changed into shorts and a top. They soon stopped by to pick me up. We four were in Tim's Toyota 4-Runner and drove to the state park. At the park, we stopped to release air from the tires so we could drive onto the sand. We passed through a gate where a ranger confirmed that we had a pass to drive on the beach. It was an adventure, and we talked excitedly about finding a place to gather as a caravan on the beach.
We drove along a rutted path, but the truck never bogged down. After maybe a few miles or so, we swung through a pass in the dunes and drove onto the beach proper. The wet sand near the waterline made for easier travel, and we sped more quickly. Soon we arrived at an encampment formed by the others. We parked our SUV with the others and formed a semi-circle to create an alcove for the party. The group was gathering coolers, and some built a fire-pit with driftwood for when night fell.
The party was festive. Reggae music played loudly from an SUV. A group was tossing a frisbee, and Eric joined in. I followed. It was warm, and most guys were wearing shorts and tee-shirts, or just shorts. Most women were in shorts and tops, although some wore just bikinis. I wore khaki shorts and a sleeveless green plaid top. As usual, there was nothing beneath. We played, and the game got more challenging. Players tossed the frisbee to make catching it a feat. Some dove into the waves to attempt to grab a toss skimming over the water. I stayed on dry sand and was glad no one tried to tempt me into the water. After a bit we stopped for beers and watched the sky turn orange/pink/purple with the glow of the setting sun.
As the light faded, the game resumed. It was more vigorous now as tosses tested catchers' skills. More were drawn into the water. I heard a low whistle and looked in the direction that captured the gaze of a few guys near me. Two women were laughing and splashing in the waves. Both were topless. Their bikini tops were wet and crumpled in their hands as they exited the sea. They tossed them on the sand and ran again into the foaming sea as someone tossed the frisbee beyond their reach. Each dove, trying, without luck, to catch the disc. One retrieved it and tossed it to a
guy on the shore. I, and everyone else, noticed her dark, hard nipples, like bing cherries atop her firm breasts. Her tan lines revealed that she wore a quite skimpy string bikini. I secretly compared my total tan to her lined torso.
Our game continued, and I unbuttoned my top to the button just below my breasts. The temptation to remove it entirely tugged at me. I resisted and remained clothed as we played the game. I knew with my tosses that my breasts swung freely. A watchful eye could surely detect an absence of tan lines as my top stretched open with my throws. The game became more energetic as the light faded. Most men had stripped to just shorts now, and only a minority of women, including me, was no longer topless.
Someone lit the fire, and people gathered around with beers in hand. Night descended and the sky turned darker as the remaining rays of light lit the horizon. A deep purple sky began to reveal its brightest stars. The topless women saw no need to cover themselves. The talk was about sports, fitness, and the gorgeous setting. A growing sense of eroticism seemed to envelop us. It was not just me. I could see excitement in the eyes of many. The air was warm, yet all exposed nipples presented tight points indicating these women knew exactly what was on the minds of the attentive men. My plaid top clung to me, and I did not try to cover my excitement.
Someone pulled out skewers and embedded the handles in the sand with chicken kabobs and sausages extended over the coals. We drank beers and watched the food sizzle. It was tribal. The crowd shared a common fascination with the fire and the promise for more adventure. When the food was cooked, it was passed around to all on paper plates and paper towels. We ate and drank with the shimmering flames lighting us. The sight of topless women gathered in the firelight must have been irresistible since the men's eyes seemed glued to these scenes. The crowd quieted as we ate. The women knew exactly what they were doing.
As we finished, we tossed the used paper towels and plates in the fire. The flames brightened. A girl, with smeared hands, announced that she needed to rinse off. Dirty thoughts must have flooded the group and many announced a same need.
Most of the crowd scurried to the water. Many discarded their remaining clothing. The clothes formed a line of jetsam above the waterline. Shouts and giggles filled the night air as the party goers splashed in the waves.
I moved with Eric, Tim and Heather down to the water. Tim and Heather stripped nude and dove in. Eric paused and asked if I was joining them. I was sorely tempted. I paused and declined, reluctantly. Eric asked if I'd mind if he went in. "No, of course not. I just don't think I should." I stammered.
He looked at me. "Yeah, I understand", he said. I read his disappointment; I imagine he saw mine.
He jogged down to the waterline and paused. I watched him in the dim, flickering light. He pulled off his tee to reveal a strong and lean torso. His arms dropped to his waist, and to my pleasure, he unfastened his shorts and let them fall to the beach. I felt so conflicted as I checked out his nude body and tight ass. This guy was incredibly fit. This magnificent toned athlete turned to check back on me and then dove into the sea. The urge to follow welled up in me.
A few of us remained on the shore. We were all a bit sheepish in knowing we were missing the fun. I assumed each must have had a good reason. I was so tempted to follow the crowd, to find Eric in the waves. His girlfriend and my husband were so far away. Would someone in the crowd reveal us if I did?
I returned to the fire and helped toss on more driftwood. The flames rose. I learned that this part of the beach, away from the guarded area, was considered a “natural” beach. Bathing suits, even during the day, were optional. Soon some nude swimmers returned, some with clothes in hand, and gathered near the flames. Excitedly they talked and grabbed more beer. I tried not to let my eyes linger on the sexy bodies. The sight of swinging cocks was everywhere. The flickering firelight added motion to the swaying members. This was tribal, like Lord of the Flies.
"Hey, party people," Tim called to no one and everyone as he returned with Heather. Both were nude. Both were drunk. Both grabbed another beer and drank deeply. I saw that Tim was semi-erect. Heather was dripping wet and looked pleased with the developments. The crowd grew as more returned from the sea. Heather clung close to Tim and found ways to brush against him. Eric was among the last to reappear from the waves. I felt awkward in the company of Tim and Heather whose touching approached foreplay. I selected two beers and walked down to meet Eric as he searched for his shorts. He stood, nude, at the pile of crumpled clothes and searched for his. I handed him a beer knowing it would delay his dressing.
"Nice swim?" I asked. He looked gorgeous. Lean and dripping wet, he stood like a warrior on the beach.
"Yeah, refreshing! It sobered me up," he said. He made no effort to cover his nakedness. I strained to not let my gaze linger on his gorgeous cock.
"I was so tempted," I admitted. It was true. I wished I was nude and wet too. Would we have touched in the waves? It would be so easy. The temptation to touch him now was rising like the flames of the bonfire.
"Why didn't you?" he asked, but I think he knew the answer. "My husband, your girlfriend. You know." My voice trailed off. He heard my indecision. Our thoughts lingered on the possibility. We sipped the beers. He stood nude as the soft light from the fire illuminated us.
"You look great." I confided this not realizing how brazen it must have sounded. He placed his hands on his hips and stood akimbo. I laughed. "Yeah, you do!" I repeated this as I looked over his taut frame and saw amusement in his eyes. His cycling jersey and shorts had left pronounced tan lines. I liked the athletic look. His manhood hung like a thick vine from a crop of glistening dark bush. I was so wet. It was all I could do to resist touching him, touching it.
I knew I'd either need to pull away and retreat back to the fire or stay and maybe signal my intentions. I stayed and helped him find his shorts. I held a rumpled pair out to him. He examined them and concluded they were his. I, and I'm sure he, was disappointed as he slipped them on. I watched as he tucked himself into the rumpled shorts. The memory of his cock dangling seductively in the night air lingered as we returned to the fire.
We stayed by the fire for a while, then the crowd started to disband. It was getting late, and Eric and I prompted a now quite drunk Tim and Heather that it was about time to leave. We gathered our stuff, and Eric announced that he'd drive back. Tim balked but agreed. Tim had more than a few beers too many. I think Heather clinging wetly to his arm was an enticement to surrender his keys. Tim had gotten his shorts back on and Heather had done the same with her tee-shirt and her shorts. We bid farewell to those lingering by the fire and climbed into the Toyota.
Eric drove Tim's SUV from the beach. I sat up front and Tim and Heather were crumpled in the back seat. We drove down the dunes in the darkness, and, save for the beams from the headlights, the night was dark. The sea and sky merged as a dark expanse dotted by starlight. I turned on the seat to chat with Eric and check on the back seat occupants. Tim and Heather were cuddling and kissing. In the dim light I noticed her fingers were exploring the long, hard ridge pressing along the front of Tim's shorts. Tim's eyes caught mine, and he grinned wickedly as she leaned toward him. I noticed his hand was high on her thigh and his fingers lost in the upper reaches of the leg of her shorts.
Eric's eyes were on the tire tracks leading us to the road. I sat sideways on the seat and enjoyed the adventure. Eric looked sexy in his faded shorts and tee-shirt. I recalled how he looked on the beach. I could see his eyes scan the track and cross to the rear-view mirror. His eyes twinkled. I looked in the back seat. Heather had lain across the seat. Her head was on Tim's lap. Her cheek rested on the sharp ridge in his shorts. Her arm was on his thigh, her finger tips lost in the open leg of his shorts. I sighed and again pictured Eric standing on the beach....his shorts somewhere in the sand. Did he share my recollection? Did the scene unfolding in the backseat lead us both to think of doing the same? The cabin of the truck reeked with eroticism.
We bumped along t
he sandy track and emerged at the state beach. Eric and I chatted, seemingly ignoring the rustle and movement in the back seat. The ride was smoother as we passed onto the pavement and headed back to town. At a gas station we stopped to re-inflate the soft tires. I got a diet Coke from the store and returned to join Eric in the front of the SUV. We drove off into the erotic night. Eric smiled as we both heard more rustling and unzipping. I advanced the stereo to a favorite Bob Marley song. We drove on and I imagined Heather gorging on a salty cock. A gaze to the back seat confirmed this.
As we drove, Eric and I discussed how to return to our homes. We decided to drop me at my house, and he would drive Tim and Heather back to Tim's place. He'd keep Tim's SUV and arrange to return it in the morning. During a pause in our conversation, I imagine we both thought of him coming to my place after he dropped the gropers off. I was sorely tempted to suggest it. Honestly, I thought at least a BJ would be a way to end the adventure. In my heart, I knew if we went that far it would be much more. The thought excited me, and I came so close to whispering something nasty in Eric's ear. I'd slide over on the seat. Leaning close, I'd whisper, "I'd like a taste, too. Come to my place after you drop them off." I didn't do it. I sat silently on the seat and tried not to notice the sounds from the rear seat.
We arrived back in town, and the two in the back suspended their explorations and sat back upright. Eric and I smiled knowingly as the two reappeared. "Hey, are we back already?" Tim slurred as we approached my house.
"Yeah, I'll get you two home after we drop off Jill," Eric explained.
"Ah, we all can party at my place," Tim offered.
"Maybe another time", I responded to Tim....but more to Eric. I looked back at the couple in the backseat. Tim looked pleasantly buzzed and poised for the fun ahead. He had the disheveled look of a man interrupted. Heather looked like pure sex. Her skin was blushed and her lips were swollen and pouty. Her tee was rumpled and askew. Her shorts appeared undone. Secretly, I wished the same look for myself.
Anna Maria Island Page 7