A Sexual Chronicle Pt. 06 by CaptainPervlord..,
We pulled up to a sparse parking lot in Sarah’s car. It was her treat for us, so she was taking care of everything. Katie and I had changed into the things she’d got us individually, with the door closed. They were meant to be surprises, when we took off our upper layers.
I’d had to catch Sarah in a sidebar the previous night after I’d peeked in my bag. “This looks pretty skimpy,” I noted, “I’m not gonna get arrested for going out in public in this, am I?”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Sarah replied with a smile and a wink. “I found a beach where we can wear whatever we want, no matter how skimpy or revealing it is. In fact, we can wear even less than that. It’s totally clothing-optional!”
My heart skipped a beat. “Almost makes me wonder why we’re bothering with the new bathers. Won’t be just be taking them off anyway?”
“Ooh so eager to get your kit off, and ours too I bet. You big perv!” She told me this while we were both naked and followed up the sentiment with a quick grope of my cock and balls. “You’d think you’d get tired of this by now.”
“With bodies like yours and Katie’s?” I asked back, running my finger along her slit as a response, “not bloody likely.”
“Well you’re all good, because it’s not like one of the big nudist spots. It’s more just technically clothing optional. Legally recognised, but no enforcement of nakedness or anything. In fact, according to the friend I heard about it from, most of the beachgoers actually keep their kits on. Well, as on as anyone’s kit is on a beach. Lot of girls’ll keep their bottoms on at least, is what I’m saying. They wouldn’t look twice at someone in the nude, they know it’s what the beach is there for, but you know, it’s not a huge thing. That’s why I think it’s the best place for us to straddle the line with some really fun revealing things. We can show off right to the limit, but we won’t get in trouble if any of the…” she groped me again “…essentials pop out.”
Straddle the line, huh? I could think of a few more things I’d like to straddle on the beach.
“Of course, it’s still a public beach, so we couldn’t go full fetish gear or anything,” she assured me, “and tragically, there probably won’t be sex, but I thought we could enjoy putting on just a bit of a show for ourselves.”
“Sounds like a thrill, doing it where all those other people we don’t know can see us too. Kind of the next level to all this around the house stuff, huh?” My reaction to that train of thought was immediately obvious, to Sarah’s satisfaction.
“And of course, I figure we’ll fuck like rabbits when we get home anyway.”
I was in rabbit mode just imagining the day. It had been a good evening for that kind of thing.
And now here we were, climbing out of the car on a toasty afternoon, smelling sea salt and hearing waves as our bodies tingled with anticipation. For all the increasing extremeness of our casual nudity/exhibitionist/voyeur/pseudo-freeuse games at home, we had kept it a very private thing. Inside the relationship and inside the apartment only. Being seen by others, by strangers, in an environment totally beyond our control, was something new. It scared me, but it made me horny too. How long had I daydreamed about what a nude beach adventure would feel?
We climbed down an uneven flight of stone stairs that wound through a section of thick shrubbery to reach the sand. The beach was isolated from the rest of the coast by two high, rocky cliffs, and the flora on the descent hid it from the road. A sign near the bottom warned “bathing suits optional beyond this point” with a few legal disclaimers under the big text. The beachgoers were pretty well spread out on towels and under umbrellas, using the full space available. The population was mostly couples, with a handful of single men and a scant few single women. I didn’t have to look long or hard to see that far more of the men were naked than the women, but there were certainly enough tits out in the sun, and a couple of brave women putting it all on show without a care in the world. The imbalance meant a lot of the couples consisted of a man with his dick totally exposed and a girl in a bikini. Maybe just half a bikini. I’d always liked assertive, sexually confident women, and something about this kind of CFNM dynamic just screamed to me “she’s in control.” The woman gets to have private, secret places she decides who sees and when, while her man is kept totally on display, no way to hide and no say in who looks at what part of him. I liked the variant where the woman was topless too, but mostly because it let me see boobs.
“Well lady and gentleman,” Sarah said, moving in front of Katie and I, “we’ve arrived at the officially legal show-your-bits-off zone. Ditch your upper layers now, and don’t even think about putting them back on til we’re back at the car!”
I took a deep breath. Katie looked around. “Shouldn’t we find a spot to put our towels and bags down first?” she asked.
“No way!” Sarah said. “What, you thought you wouldn’t be showing your new outfits to all these people anyway? They’ll get the best look if you have them out while we walk all around them finding our spot. Now, strip!”
If I stopped to think, I would overthink. And knowing me, I’d probably circle back to all the CFNM couples and overthink myself into a faux pas boner, so I just went for it, pulling my T shirt over my head and wriggling my loose beach shorts down from my waist. Sarah cheered. Katie, who had been grabbing the hem of her sundress and preparing to lift, gasped. Our mutual paramour had bought me a half thong. It was a single loop of material that was supposed to go up my leg and sit high over my hip, barely packing my cock and balls inside it. The essentials were just barely covered, and a whole half of my hips were just out there in the open. And to top it all, what little material it had was bright, race car red to draw the eye. This felt somehow more ridiculous than going nude. All the guys on the beach had dicks. Dicks were unremarkable here. No one else had one of these. I had this impression that a guy has to be pretty fit to rock something like a speedo and not look weird in it, and if that was so, I was well below the level of bodybuilder ripped-ness to pull off something like this.
But to my surprise, Katie and Sarah seemed pretty happy with it. Hell, they were beaming as they ogled my barely-covered crotch. A few beachgoers who’d settled close to the stairs were looking too, girls watching coyly over the tops of their shades. Since they all liked it so much, I swallowed my inhibitions and tried to flaunt it.
“And what are you waiting for,” I asked Katie, wiggling my bright red package at her.
I realised I would have to be careful about that. Boners were not on, and the half-thong was barely built to hold me flaccid, let alone erect. It would hide nothing, and I’d probably snap it in two by half-mast.
It didn’t help my predicament when Katie pulled her sundress off, making a bit of a show my edging it up her thighs an inch at a time before throwing it over her head, revealing what Sarah had bought for her. It was a black sling bikini — a V of thin material running from her crotch to her shoulders. Her pussy, barely contained. Her nipples, technically covered, though the very edges of her areola peeked out the sides, with the rest of her breasts totally exposed. The top of her landing strip protruded in a dark tuft from the hinge of the V.