A Trip to the Beach

Was it just an accident? Was it just that her mind was elsewhere? Or was it deliberate?

It was a warm Friday afternoon. Paula, an event organiser who we use to organise our major conferences, etcetera, was sitting directly opposite me in one of the break-out areas. Between us there was a low coffee table. Paula was sitting on the edge of the sofa and leaning forward. Talking. Gesturing with her hands.

'If you are going to increase the numbers, we will need to change the venue,' she said. 'And, if we are going to do that, we should get onto it right away. The more popular places tend to be booked out months in advance. Years in some cases.' And then she casually lifted the hem of her full summery skirt and subtly wafted it a couple of times. Her rather ample-but-nicely-toned thighs were spread. Only slightly. But they were spread, nevertheless. And the view from my side of the table was an upskirt aficionado's delight.

'The recently-opened Rockhampton ticks most of the boxes,' Paula said. 'But I think they only have three breakout rooms. Or perhaps it's four. I shall check.'

'Good idea.'

And then Paula did it again. The camel-toed gusset of her knickers was bright white against her tanned thighs. 'Is it just me? Or is it unusually warm in here today?' she said.

'Umm... no. It is rather warm this afternoon. You might even say it's hot,' I said. 'I'm not sure how well the aircon is coping.'

Paula smiled. 'Oh, well, perhaps summer has finally arrived.'

'Maybe,' I said.

'So... is that us done?'

I took my printed agenda and placed it on the low table, directly between us. I scanned it from top to bottom and then back from bottom to top, allowing myself to take another surreptitious glance up Paula's skirt, another surreptitious glance at her plump, fabric-covered crotch. 'Yes. That looks to be about it,' I said. 'From what I can see. So what are your plans now?'

'I'm not sure that I have any,' she said.

'Then perhaps we could slip next door, up to the roof bar, and find ourselves a long cold drink. Everyone else seems to have already departed for the weekend.'

'Yes. That might be fun,' Paula said.

* * *

As it turned out, Paula and I weren't the only ones who thought that the next door rooftop bar might be the place to be. The place was already humming. We found a table. But it was a regular height table. It seemed that there were to be no more upskirt peeps. At least not for that afternoon. 'Gin and tonic?' I suggested.

'Sounds perfect,' Paula said.

I got us a couple of drinks and, as we sipped, we fell to talking about the upcoming long weekend.

'I'm hoping that this weather holds,' Paula said. 'It feels like a long time since I had a quiet day at the beach.'

'Oh? Are you a bit of a beach bunny?' (It would certainly have accounted for her tan.)

'I do enjoy a bit of quiet beach time. With a blanket and a book.'

I laughed. 'You realise it's a long weekend? And the sunshine has finally arrived? Good luck with finding a quiet beach. They'll all be overrun with kids, won't they?'

'Candle Cove shouldn't be too bad,' she said. 'Candle Cove is not exactly a family beach. And I think getting there puts a few people off too. Carting all their stuff down the cliff.'

I nodded. And then I realised what she had just said. 'Oh. You mean

that

Candle Cove?'

Paula smiled. The girl was certainly full of surprises.

'The clothing optional Candle Cove?' I said.

'Yes. Do you know it?'

'I know

of

it,' I said.

'The beach itself is very sheltered,' Paula said. 'And the rocky finger that curves around from the eastern end makes a natural swimming pool. Perfect if you feel like a bit of a splash. You should try it. As I say, it's a bit of a walk to get there. But that wouldn't put off a chap like you, would it?'

'Umm... no. I just.... But, yes. You're right. I should probably check it out.' And then I had to ask: 'Do, umm... do many people avail themselves of the option?'

'The option?'

'Well... it is clothing optional.'

'Oh.' Paula laughed. 'Well, nudity is not compulsory. But, yes, most people seem to. I think for most of the people who go there it's a large part of the appeal. Are you a...?'

'I have been to a couple of clothing optional beaches. In France. And they were rather fun. But I think the French are more into that sort of thing than we are, aren't they?'

'You should try Candle Cove,' Paula said. 'You might be surprised.'

* * *

I was certainly surprised when Paula phoned me the following morning. Paula never phoned me out of work hours. My first thought was that something must have gone wrong. Something that couldn't wait until Tuesday to be put right. But no.

'For once, the weather forecasting people seem to have got it right,' she said. 'They're suggesting we may have sunshine and a light sou'westerly. A perfect day to visit Candle Cove. I wondered if you might like to come with me.'

'Gosh. Candle Cove? What? Today?'

'Yes. I'm thinking this morning. I don't imagine that it will be too busy. But it's generally best not to leave it too late. Of course, maybe you already have something planned.'

'Umm... no,' I said. 'No. So... umm... yes. Yes, we could do that. When? Where? What do I need?'

'I could pick you up on my way,' Paula said. 'You're just out near Saddler's Cross, aren't you?'

'Yes. Just on the other side of the river. Well, the other side if you are coming from town, anyway. My place is the barn conversion. Once you cross the bridge, there are two cottages, and then a bit of a gap, and then my place.'

'I think I know where you mean,' Paula said. 'And we'll need some water and a snack. But I can organise that too. How about I pick you up at about ten-fifteen?'

'Perfect,' I said. 'And the, umm, walk. Do I need stout shoes or anything?'

'Just a pair of trainers or something like that,' Paula said. 'There's a bit of a track. And then quite a few steps.'

* * *

Paula pulled up outside my place just a tad before ten-fifteen. 'Nice house,' she said. 'I've often admired this place as I have driven past.'

'I like it,' I told her. 'Would you like a tour?'

'Perhaps when we come back. We should probably go and stake out our bit of beach before too many other people have the same idea.'

* * *

It was only a short drive to the beach. Well, it was only a short drive to the clifftop, anyway. From the road, we couldn't actually see the beach. Paula parked the car in a small clearing along with about a dozen other cars, and then we grabbed our things, and Paula led the way to a barely-perceptible gap in the scrubby hedgerow. On the other side of the gap, there was a narrow path that sloped away gently for perhaps a couple of hundred metres. At the end of the path, some steps had been cut into the scrub-covered cliff face. We descended the steps and, suddenly, there was the cove spread out in front of us. It looked just like something off a postcard.

'There you are,' Paula said. 'Candle Cove. Isn't it beautiful?'

It certainly was. You got the feeling that you might have been somewhere on the Mediterranean coast. Perhaps Spain. Or the South of France. Or maybe Sardinia. The cove was totally cut off from the rest of the coast by the two headlands. And, as Paula had said, the rocky finger that jutted out from the eastern end and then curved around acted as a natural breakwater.

When we reached the bottom of the steps, there was another narrow path, and then we were on the beach itself. 'Let's see if my favourite spot is available,' Paula said. And she strode out purposefully while I trailed behind.

Paula's favourite spot was available. It was a shallow 'valley' in the sand, back towards the foot of the cliffs. Once you were in 'the valley', you were hardly visible from the rest of the beach. We laid out the beach blanket that Paula had brought, and our towels, and then, with a broad smile, Paula announced that it was 'time to exercise the option'. I was pretty sure what she meant. But I let her start to disrobe first -- just in case I had misunderstood.

Paula was wearing a rather attractive, loose-fitting sundress that came off over her head in one easy move. Beneath the dress, she was wearing a hot pink bra and matching high-cut knickers. Her knickers were next to be shed. And then it was the turn of her bra.

I tried to be as nonchalant as I could be as I removed my shirt and then lowered my shorts and briefs in one go. It wasn't easy trying to give the impression that it was something I did everyday. But if I was a little nervous, Paula didn't seem to notice. And the fact that my cock grew just a tad from the excitement was probably no bad thing.

Paula was a big girl. But she was certainly a very attractive big girl. And each of her breasts were almost the size of her head. She had a bit of a tummy, firm-but-padded hips, and a wonderfully-lush patch of dark pubic hair which she unselfconsciously 'primped'. 'I could do that for you, if you like,' I was tempted to say. But, of course, I didn't.

'We'll need some sunscreen,' Paula said. 'When there's a bit of a breeze -- like today -- the sun can be very deceptive.'

'I come prepared,' I told her. Perhaps it was just that we were both standing there, for the first time, stark naked, but somehow 'come' suddenly didn't sound like quite the word that I should have chosen. But it was too late. It was out there.

Paula smiled. 'Come prepared?' she said. And she nodded. 'Yes. I should have known that you were the kind of chap who would

come prepared

.' And she nodded again.

We helped each other to apply protection. (For some reason, even the thought of the word 'protection' took on a different meaning.) And then we settled down with our books. From time to time, we stopped reading and chatted lightly. But 'come' and 'protection' had already set my brain up to interpret other words in ways that I would not normally have done. For instance, at one stage Paula said: 'It's moments like this that I wish I had something to suck on.' She meant an iced lolly on a stick -- as she went on to explain. But, thinking back, I'm pretty sure that she was looking at my cock when she said it.

After we had been sitting there, lying there, for about three-quarters of an hour, an older couple stopped by to chat. I guess they were both in their sixties. With silver hair both up on top and down below. 'Isn't it a perfect day?' the woman said to Paula.

'Out of the box,' Paula said.

(Box. There was another word that had my brain racing.)

'Have you been for a dip yet?' the woman asked.

'Not yet. We're just working up to it,' Paula said.

'The water's surprisingly warm,' the woman said. 'Well... perhaps not exactly warm. But it's certainly not cold.'

Her partner nodded. 'Not much fun when you go in with a python and come out with a malnourished earthworm, eh?' he said. And he glanced down at his silver junkyard and laughed. 'Not that I've ever been lucky enough to have a python to take in in the first place. But you know what I mean.'

'You do all right,' the woman said. And they both laughed.

When the couple had continued on their way, Paula said that perhaps we should go and check out how warm 'warm' was. 'Are you ready to risk it?' she asked.

'Ready as I will ever be.'

'I'm afraid you will have to put up with me wearing a bathing cap,' she said. 'Otherwise, my hair takes forever to dry.'

'Fair enough.'

Actually, the water was not at all cold.

'This is nice,' Paula said.

'It is,' I confirmed. 'It hardly feels like England.'

Paula was surprisingly graceful in the water. 'Are you a swimmer?' I asked.

'In my younger days.'

We spent ten minutes or so in the water, and then we were ready to return to our spot at the foot of the cliffs. We had brought towels with us, but we didn't need them. The sun dried us off in no time.

'I brought some ham and brie croissants,' Paula said. 'Purists might say that we really should have been having them for breakfast, but... oh, well.' The croissants were delicious. And we washed them down with a swig or two of chilled cider. But then, just as we were finishing our little repast, clouds started rolling in from behind us. 'Hey, this wasn't in the script,' Paula said.

'Maybe they're just passing through,' I said.

'Maybe.'

But the cloud continued to build and there were even a few spits of rain.

'We should probably go,' Paula said. 'Once the steps and the track get wet they can be a bit difficult to negotiate. You know what clay can be like when it gets wet.'

'I bow to your superior knowledge,' I said.

We both got dressed, packed up our things, and joined the small procession of people heading for the lower path. Within fifteen minutes or so, the beach was probably deserted.

* * *

By the time that we got back to my place, the rain had really set in. 'Oh, well, at least the morning was pretty nice,' Paula said.

'Yes. In more ways than one,' I said. 'Come inside and I'll give you the grand tour. I might even make you a cup of tea.'

'That would be nice.'

* * *

I had agreed to purchase my barn when it was still in the process of being converted. The builder who was making the conversion had originally intended to more or less build a pretty conventional house within the original barn shell. But I persuaded him to retain as much of the original barn as possible, both inside and out.

'Gosh. This is really nice,' Paula said.

'It's perhaps a tad self-indulgent,' I admitted. 'I'm not sure that it would be particularly practical for a family of six. But I'm not a family of six. And I don't intend to become a family of six.' And then Boswell appeared.

'But you do have a dog,' Paula said.

'Ah, yes. Boswell,' I said. 'Bos actually belongs to the Smiths. Over in the cottage. But Bos is getting on a bit, and Smiths have boisterous four-year-old twins. I think Bos likes to come over here for a bit of peace and quiet. Or perhaps he just appreciates my taste in jazz.'

I filled the kettle and put in on to boil. And then I led Paula on the grand tour. Not that a tour of my barn is particularly grand. As I said, the finished conversion is a pretty simple, rustic affair.

'And the bedroom,' Paula said when we reached it. 'What a lovely room. So spacious. And what a great view.'

'It is pretty good,' I said. 'Even in the rain. Although I think the rain is beginning to ease off a bit.'

'You're very tidy,' Paula said.

'Hmm... I try to be,' I said. 'But I also have a woman who comes in on Fridays. I think what you're seeing is Susie's good work. Today is only Saturday. I still have the best part of a week to mess things up again.'

Paula laughed.

We went back down stairs, I made a pot of tea, and we took it out into the cart dock where we were protected from the rain but could still enjoy the view across the neighbouring farm.

'So... what did you think of Candle Cove?' Paula asked.

'I liked it,' I told her. 'Yes. It was like being in another country.'

Paula nodded. 'It's nice to be naked from time to time. Well... I think so, anyway.' And then she glanced around at the terrace and more or less enclosed patch of lawn beyond the cart dock, and the open fields beyond that. 'You know, you have the perfect place to be naked here,' she said. 'No one overlooking you.'

To be honest, I had never really thought about it. But she was right. 'Yes. I see what you mean.'

'There are a couple of horses over there,' she said. 'But I can't imagine then rushing off to complain to the local council.'

'Probably not,' I said.

By the time that we had finished our tea, the rain had stopped and the sun had returned. Paula didn't seem to be in any hurry to race off, and so I got up and went put some music on.

'This is nice,' Paula said.

'

Thank you, Gerry

. It's a tribute album to the late, great Gerry Mulligan. That's Bob Brookmeyer on valve trombone. And Lee Konitz on alto sax. Of course, they've both gone now. Randy Becker on trumpet. I think he's still around. But even he must be getting on.'

'You like music of that era?'

'I do.'

Paula nodded. 'Yes. I find some modern jazz a bit challenging. But this I like. It's interesting yet still tuneful.'

'Bos seems to think so,' I said. And Paula laughed.

I suppose that I could have gone and made another pot of tea. But it felt like time to break out the wine. And so, without bothering to run the idea past Paula, I gathered up the tea things, took them out to the kitchen, and returned with a chilled bottle of Pinot Gris and a couple of glasses. 'I though it was probably time for a change,' I said.

Paula smiled.

'Also, while I was out in the kitchen -- and this might be a totally inappropriate idea -- I thought that we could instigate a clothing optional policy right here at Riverslea Barn.'

Paula nodded. 'Yes. Why not?' she said. 'Are there set hours? Set days? There would have to be rules, wouldn't there?'

'I think probably any day with day in its name. And perhaps any time between sunrise and sunrise the following day.'

'Yes. That would work,' Paula said. 'What's today.'

'Saturday.'

'Well, that qualifies. And it's definitely between sunrise and sunrise.'

'It is,' I confirmed, as I handed her a glass of wine.

'In that case,' she said. And she got to her feet, and for the second time that day, her sundress slipped off easily over her head, her knickers were lowered, and her bra was removed, once again freeing her not-insubstantial breasts.

And I followed suit. It may just have been my imagination, but I thought that Bos frowned a little. Not disapprovingly. More enquiringly. As in: 'Oi, oi. What's going on here then? Is it bedtime already?' But, as I say, it may just have been my imagination.

'Cheers,' Paula said, raising her glass.

'Cheers,' I said. 'And here's to naked friends.'

* * *

We were probably halfway through our first glass of wine when a call of 'Bos-well' came across the fields. Bos's ears pricked up. 'Bos-well', the voice called again. And Bos lumbered to his feet.

'Sounds like super time, old chap,' I said.

Bos looked at me, and then at Paula, and back at me. And then, after pausing for me to ruffle his ears, he trotted off in the direction whence the call had come.

'You certainly have things under control,' Paula said. 'All the pleasures of having a dog, and none of the responsibilities.'

'Yes. I suppose so. Although I do keep a water bowl here for him.'

I topped up our wine glasses, and Paula repositioned her chair so that she was directly facing me. Under control? I thought that I had managed to accept that Paula was both attractive and naked, but when she positioned herself directly opposite me and spread her legs, I felt my cock contemplating what it might be like to nose its way between her bush-covered labia.

'Finally,' she said with a broad smile.

'Finally?'

'I was beginning to wonder what a girl had to do the get your attention.'

'Oh, you have my attention,' I assured her.

She laughed. 'As I say... finally. I had been hoping to get your attention with my carefully-executed upskirt yesterday afternoon.' (So it had been deliberate.) 'But no. And then I thought perhaps I might catch your attention at the beach. But you remained remarkably well-behaved.'

'It did take considerable effort,' I confessed. 'But as you can see....' And looked down at my rapidly rising cock.

'I think you should be rewarded for all your good work,' Paula said. And she got up from her chair, crouched in front of me, and gently kissed the head of my cock.

'I... umm....'

'You umm what?'

'I just wasn't sure if I was reading the tea leaves correctly.'

Paula laughed. 'You're certainly a slow reader,' she said. 'I thought that I was going to have to do a dance. Or perhaps perform a mime.'