My first story. Please be gentle!
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As a kid I always loved camping, to the point I would spend a week hiking in the wilderness of Scotland with nothing more than my rucksack, tent, sleeping bag and a few basic provisions to keep me going. The wilds of the glens, the views from a munro, the iciness of the streams were all intoxicating to me. That wanderlust and sense of being alone never left me.
I'd moved to Ibiza in my late 20's, not for the partying and clubs but for the beauty of the north of the island and the chance to work on a number of high end yachts serving the rich and famous who came to the island in the summer to party. The death of my last remaining relative left me with a reasonable chunk of money but no ties to keep me in the UK, so I found the job and left. It meant 12 weeks of hard work, living in a tiny cabin with 5 other people but the money was good and it left 40 weeks a year to do what I liked. Walking through pine forests in the north, swimming in the coves and a diet of seafood and salad had been good to me. Approaching 40, I was lean and tanned and I had a great life.
My favourite time of year was October as the summer heat had subsided but the weather was still good. The tourists had long since gone and the population of the island shrank. This left the beaches deserted, the roads quiet and only the local cafes and restaurants still in service.
I'd left my finca near the sleepy village of San Juan and headed into the pine forests. My plan for the day was to hike a route towards the coast and then drop down to a magical cove called Cala d'en Serra to spend the day lazing on the beach, swimming and just generally being idle. I'd packed a small bag with a small amount of food, fresh water and a small amount of wine to go with my lunch. Aside from the clothes I was stood up in, I was travelling light and didn't expect to see anyone during the day, complete isolation and peace!
Under the canopy of the pines the air was cool and I made light work of the steep rocky pathways that led through the forest. Every once in a while I would come to a section of barren hillside, marked only with burnt stumps of trees. A few years back, fires had raged across this part of the island destroying this old forest and creating the scars that would take 50 years or more to heal. The smell of smoke had lingered for weeks and seeing the stumps brought back the acrid stench of smoke to mind.
Eventually I found my way onto the track that leads down to the beach at Cala d'en Serra. This is one of the secret coves on the island that most tourists don't know about. In the summer, there is a crowd on the beach but it is by no means oppressive. The little chiringuito would be selling snacks and cold drinks, while an old guy with skin like leather would be renting sun beds and loungers to the tourists.
The track down is passable by 4x4 but most people walk. It winds down from the top of the cliffs passing the half built shell of someone's house. I guess they started it but the planning permission was never granted, leaving the shell as some ghoulish monument to a failed dream. Kids had explored it over the years adding graffiti to the concrete to make it even more decrepit. Most of it is now hidden by undergrowth and the trees, so the view at the bottom of the cove isn't spoilt.
I made it to the beach and delighted in the fact it was deserted. The narrow cover flanked by high cliffs and pine forest wouldn't look out of place in a James Bond film, with some evil villain using it as his base. The water was azure but a patchwork of darker spots dotted across the view where the seagrass beds grew. I skirted across the beach and over a rocky outcrop to a more secluded small beach. Sitting there, you could be the only person in the world. I loved it. I dropped my bag, kicked off my boots, stripped down and ran into the sea. One thing I had developed a penchant for was swimming nude. Complete freedom and at this time of year the slight chill to the water made your body tingle.
I swam out along the cover enjoying the cool water and the freedom of my nudity. Occasionally I'd dive down to the seabed 10m below and see the bream shoals swimming around me. Some days I would bring a banana with me and you would be sat in the middle of a feeding frenzy as these fish fought to get a bite. After half an hour I turned back and started to swim for shore but I noticed something different from when I'd left. Someone was on the beach.
As I got closer I watched as the figure moved across the main beach and start to scramble to the smaller beach. I started to panic but realised I had nothing more in my bag than some food and water, no valuables in there. The figure stopped by my clothes and then looked out to sea and must have seen me swimming in. They moved further over the beach, unrolled a towel and sat down. My relief was palpable but then I remembered my nudity. I'm no prude but this would be interesting, more so as I realised the person was in fact a woman.
As I got to shore, she had stripped down to a bikini and she was lying on a towel reading a book. Nothing for it but to stride out of the water and get to my things, only hoping that she didn't look up. I made my way out of the water, the white sand crunching under my feet and water running down my body. I was almost to my things when she looked up and straight at me, he eyes widened slightly, a small smile spread across her lips, but then the face returned to neutral.
"Hola" I managed before sitting down and trying to get back some modesty. No response, just a brief smile and return to the book. I settled back and let the warm early autumn sun dry my body. The woman shifted on her towel and faced away from me which allowed me to look at her in a bit more detail. Long shapely legs, swelling to a beautifully round bottom before fading in to her waist. I couldn't see the front but I only hoped the top half matched the bottom. I'd already seen her face which was comely but the main feature were brown eyes that dragged you in. I could look into them forever. In my moment of interest I'd not noticed that I'd become aroused, and I quickly shifted to avoid any embarrassment.
I gradually settled into a fugue like state, just dozing and letting the sun keep me warm. I was dragged from my slumber by movement as the woman rose and walked to the water's edge. I watched happily as her buttocks moved under her bikini bottoms and she walked with some grace. She dipped a toe in the water and winced.
"El agua esta fria al principio pero es agradable." I said The water is cold at first but it is nice.
She glanced round at me "Sorry, I don't speak Spanish" came the reply.
"You are English? Surprising to meet another Brit here, on this beach, at this time of year."
She glanced back while still toying with the water lapping at her feet. "Yes, I'm staying with a friend and she mentioned this beach so I thought I'd check it out. You are English as well?"
