Beachcombing

I'm Mike - I think of myself pretty much as Mr. Average in all the ways you need to know, but good fortune has led me to being well above average in society's view - above average job as a city manager in an above-average city, above average life, except that I have way beyond that great, now grown, kids, and an incredible wife. She's Anne, a few years younger than my mid-50s, stays in better shape than I do, and I'm in pretty good shape thanks to once having been a lean mean fighting machine, now only sorta lean, much less mean, but still can take care of my own if I need to. Anyway, despite buying into that "I need to lose weight" American woman thing (with which I disagree in general, and with Anne in specific), Anne's more interesting - ash-blonde, great full B cups (her mammographer told her she has "dense breasts" and I can attest that they really are firmer than other women with similar cup sizes that I've experienced - before meeting her, of course). Those wonders barely sag, above a bod that's indeed a woman's, no longer a girl's, with hips and a waist that won't meet Playboy standards, but I'd aver could wake the dead if the dead were heterosexual males, i.e. an ass that's just big enough to make you stop whatever you're doing when it sways by (something else she'd reduce and I wouldn't, given our druthers), and a set of vaginals that those same dead would die again just to get into. OK, you get it - I'm a lucky guy - way above average in the good fortune department.

Only thing is, Anne's great in the sack within her own set of what's ok and what's not. Anal's not, fellatio is, cunnilingus definitely is, fucking is, in whatever position you can manage. Games, unfortunately, just are not: no role play, no dress-up, no toys, no sharing of past peccadillos, not much dirty talk at all. A little teasing, and a lot of hint that if I could figure out how to unleash her, she'd be not only everything that's good for me, but everything I want that's bad. So there we are. I'm grateful to have her - she's very, very good for me. She comes easily and frequently, which I love. But more and more, I just want to tug her across those boundaries she's set for whatever reasons. Folks who know us would be surprised she comes at all - she exhibits as proper class A prude. I know her as "Don't want to talk about it, just want to do it, come a lot, then be done with it and get back to the business of daily living." Rereading, that sounds way negative - she's a lot more wonderful than that, it's just that I really love it when she's turned on, and I wish I could figure out how to do that in more than our usual ways - despite her attestations that she's fine, that she loves me, that life is good (which it is), and so forth.

All that said, I was a bit surprised when she mentioned there being a nude beach on the way to a vacation we'd planned. We were going to drive the 8 hours to a resort and join my old college roommate and his wife to enjoy the beach for a week, then return to the grind. Apparently, about 6 hours along the way was an area where it was commonly accepted that they didn't enforce the standing ordinances about clothing optional areas. She brought it up when we were still an hour away, and I was naturally all for it, but curious.

When I expressed my surprise as we drove along, she said, "Honey, you've been angling to get me to this sort of thing for, like, forever. Remember Vancouver had one you knew about but it was rainy when we were there, and then you've mentioned some others, and you've brought up nude camping and such - not like this is a secret yearning of yours. You're always wanting me to be more daring in general, and I've been resisting, and I realize that's not great for you. A couple of weeks ago, some internet news thing mentioned nude beaches, and that sparked my searching since we were heading this way, and found a place down here, and it all seemed to fit into our schedule. So, this time, I thought, just for this once, I'll indulge your kink. I don't promise to like it or ever to do it again, but I'll give it my best shot."

"You do know I love you, right?"

"Yeah - I wouldn't go along with it if I didn't."

"And you do know this isn't about me wanting to ogle naked women, right?"

"That part I'm not clear on. So, if it's not that, what is it?"

"I gotta admit, it's not even all that clear to me. I love to show you off, and there's something in a streak of 3rd hand voyeurism or exhibitionism or something that makes me want to see you naked on a beach, just all out there, and that wants other men, and women, to see you. The part about showing you off is exhibitionist, I guess, and that wants you to see other men and women, voyeurist. Besides, I think you'll find the whole experience is a lot less sexual than you suspect - as you know, I've been to nude beaches before we met, and I've never seen an erection or gotten one on any of them. But it is a sexual thing as well for me - I won't deny that. I think that guys seeing you will turn me on (and I promise to keep that under control until we're alone in the room tonight), and the idea that you're seeing guys naked will turn me on, too. I don't really know why on that part, maybe something about your seeing more attractive guys and yet still leaving with me or something - part just because it's erotic and sort of dirty in a good way. Like I said, not at all clear, but the overall thing seems sexy and fun and harmless. So, thank you, thank you for giving this a shot! Oh, and if there are naked women, I'll certainly look, but I know that from none to maybe a few of them will even be in your league!"

"Well, I appreciate the honesty, and the compliment. But I don't expect that other guys or girls seeing me is going to turn me on - more like just embarrass me, since I'm not in my 20s anymore. And seeing a bunch of suntanned tits or limp dicks is hardly my idea of a turn-on."

"Not even if they're noticeably larger than mine limp dicks?"

"Nope, not even - besides, they're all pretty much the same, and that means the same as yours, limp."

"Well, my dear wonderfulness, I've been in enough gym locker room showers to know that's not quite the case, but I've long since come to celebrate some fate having traded off some size in my case for letting me find someone as terrific as you - and having you so confused as to settle for me, when you could have any man on earth at your command."

"You silver tongue - part of the reason I love you - and not just for the speaking part of it. Besides, I'll probably be too shy even to look. But I'm going to try, just for today, right? No promises for anything past this!"

"Deal." And with that, we drove on, and I was likely grinning along the way.

We got to the beach in the mid afternoon and all the spaces in the small parking lot were taken - rats! But, there were several other cars illegally parked along the sandy shoulder, so we pulled over despite the numerous "No Parking" signs, figuring "when in Rome." The area was down a couple of miles along a barely paved road that had only the occasional beach house. Further down from where we parked there was a nice big one, porches all around, up on pilings. I thought whoever lived there must be doing ok, and had a great site as well.

We lugged our small cooler, bag of towels and such over the dunes and out onto the beach, finding it very sparsely populated - maybe one person every 50 yards. No families (school was in) with kids, thankfully - I know nudism is advertised as all family-friendly, but there's still something in me that just doesn't want kids around naked adults. Finding a vacant stretch, we set up our stuff, laid out our towels and applied suntan lotion to each other's backs. I took the opportunity to make sure Anne's ass was well covered with the cream, and OK, that started me swelling, and Anne noted that and said, "Hey, I thought you weren't going to get an erection - that looks like there's one on its way!"

"Well, I've never had a beautiful naked woman applying suntan lotion to me while I stood naked on a nude beach, much less gotten to do the same for her, so sorry. It'll pass."

"Hmmm..." she said, and with the efficiency of a doctor and about as much sensuality, slathered some on my back, stopping at my waist, and sat down, finishing up coating herself without my help.

Joining her sitting on the towel, my crank shrank back to its norm, which she didn't mention, but which I think she probably confirmed and was relieved to note.

While we were sitting there, a guy and his girl/woman/wife? dunno - walked past, just at the surf's edge, maybe 25 feet away from us up near the dunes. They were about in their 40s, both well-tanned, no bathing suit tan lines, and both way overweight. Her breasts were heavy with large soft nipples and sagged accordingly, the cellulite on her ass swaying along with the weight of the rest of it, looking like the most contented cellulite on the face of the earth. His dick was visible, but barely so, amidst a thick fur that was the only hair on his body. It looked short, likely due to the fat competing for surface area. I waved to them when they glanced at us, and they smiled and waved back, and kept strolling on.

After they were past, I mentioned to Anne that I sort of liked that they felt so comfortable in their skins as to be out here, obviously not for the first time, not worrying about all those social expectations of the clothed world. Anne had been lying on her back, in her beach hat with sunglasses, her legs together, her head propped up and reading a paperback (that was held on her rib cage beneath her breasts) when they passed. She was naked and could easily see over the book, but they certainly didn't get much of a view of her. I was similarly on my back, but was enjoying the breeze on my gonads, and had my legs parted a bit, so if they were out for the sights, I'm sure I provided them more than Anne did, such as my sights are. Like I said, Joe Average, and from the actual scientific data I am just that - average in the dick department & certainly not above it. From the population of men who frequent YMCAs and nude beaches and pornography, I'm certainly not even up to average.

Back to the beach - Anne didn't respond. I pressed on, and asked her what she thought of them. "Oh, I hardly noticed - I was reading." she answered.

"You didn't notice that she was way overweight, and had no tan lines?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess. They were certainly tanned, and they could both stand to lose some weight."

"I sort of liked that she was comfortable enough to be out here, all overweight and naked and apparently cool with both. And how about his dick? Did you check that out? I'm sure he was checking you out, although he didn't get as much of a show of us as we did of them!" I said.

"No, I didn't notice his dick. What, do you think I'm going to be examining everyone's dicks? I'd be too embarrassed. Anyway, they're all alike."

"Oh? His is just like mine?"

"No - yours is much nicer, but I really didn't notice his," she said, logic be damned.

"Well, just for your comfort, please do know that I can't see your eyes in those sunglasses, so there's nothing that anyone else will know about where you're looking. This is a one time as you said, so you might as well enjoy it!"

And with that, we let it drop and went back - her reading, me just looking at the surf and the occasional albatross or gull. For a while, a pod (is that the term?) of porpoises cruised by beyond the breakers, and we watched their gracefulness, treated to the sight. A bit later, another couple came by, and another bit later two single guys lighting up the gadar, and then a single guy - but it was no more than one pass every 5 to 10 minutes if that. All in all, sort of deserted and very, very peaceful.

Another ten minutes passed, with Anne now lying face down, her lovely buns soaking the vitamin D. I saw another guy strolling down the beach.

He smiled and waved, and when I waved back he headed up toward us. I got up (hey, that's what men do when they greet, or it seemed natural to me at the time), and before Anne had registered why, she'd turned over onto her back, then looked over and saw the guy approaching, by then only 10 feet away. She couldn't gracefully just roll back for cover, so she was stuck there, book in one hand, on display. Anne has a lovely pussy, the cleft smooth with no inner lips protruding unless she's just been roundly fucked, which she certainly had not been that day. She's also a real blonde, with strawberry-blondish pubic hair that's almost ineffective as a cover. So, there she was, her lovely sparsely haired bush and its slit on display along with her great breasts. I continued to rise and said hello to the guy, and he stuck out his hand, so we shook in standard greeting.

"Welcome to my beach - I'm Beachcomber Bob," he said genially. He was older than we, maybe 60, and even more all-over tanned than the earlier couple. His features were generically Caucasian, but his complexion looked downright Caribbean, and he had several missing teeth in his grin. He seemed to be not at all not self-conscious about his smile (that brought to mind a backwoods banjo player) any more than about his gonads being on display. He wasn't obese, but could have lost 20 pounds to no disadvantage, shown in his protruding belly. He was probably about my 5' 10" height, wearing a ball cap and nothing else at all. Notably, he was completely hairless - either genetically or medically or waxed or shaved or whatever - not a hair on him except eyebrows, and including what appeared to be a shaved head, all pretty much the same shade of deep copper. I took all that in in about a second. He was also sporting an uncircumcised, significantly fatter than mine and noticeably longer dick. You could see the outline of his cock head covered by the foreskin, and it looked to be downright silver dollar sized. I know women differ on those things, but there's got to be some reason Pontiac went with wider rather than longer as an ad campaign, and I was definitely jealous on that point.

I realized he'd continued without much of a break while I was assessing, "I'm sort of a caretaker here. You folks are new to my beach, and from the looks of your white tails, you're new to this whole kind of beach. No matter, all are welcome here - good to see you! Watch out for the undertows if you go swimming, but it's fine out there otherwise - no sharks to speak of."

"Thanks," I answered, now convinced swimming would not be on the agenda. "I'm Mike, this is Anne. We're just passing through, but had heard about this place, and it's even better than we expected - not crowded for sure, nice ocean, nice sand, practically no bothersome bugs, great sun - what could be better?!"

"Yup, that's what keeps me here - beats the big city, beats the cold, beats it all!" he laughed, looking at Anne, and not quite leering, but certainly taking his time checking her out, not bashful at all.

"And how do you like it, Anne?" he asked.

"It's really nice - it's so peaceful and quiet, and I love the view!" she said. Then she must have realized that her view at the moment was of his hairless tool and that he might have taken her comment that way. I saw the appendage give a little movement, no doubt in reply, and the head looked turtle-like as it actually peeked out, then receded, the whole apparatus dangling down beyond his big sac, all tanned as well. It was almost as long (it seemed) and thicker already than I got when hard (I knew). She promptly blushed, being blond, and it showed. I loved it - not that it was embarrassing her as much as that she was unable to deny the sexuality of the situation, innocent as it seemed to be.

He was nice enough to realize her embarrassment and not make a thing of it. Giving us a mini-salute - with his hand this time - he said, "Well, moving on - I'm here every day, if you ever come back or want any advice, or anything, just ask for Beachcomber Bob!" And with that, he sauntered off.

"Nice turn of a phrase! So you liked the view!" I laughed when he was out of earshot.

"Mike!" she said in that mock complaint intonation that women and children use.

"What?!" I played along. "I think he enjoyed the view from where he was as well as you! He certainly gave that big dick a surge when you mentioned the view. I knew what you probably meant, but the situation was humorous, you've got to admit."

"Oh, you knew what I meant, huh? Maybe I meant exactly what he hoped I meant, so there!" she continued, still mock-upset, but not really.

"Maybe you did. I sort of hope so. He was a fine specimen, unless you like hair, of course. I wonder how he wound up with none of it - he carries the look well, but if I had a horse cock like that, I'd be able to carry any look I liked, too!"

"You carry just fine with me," she soothed. "He was just showing off, I'll bet."

"Maybe. At least you're admitting you noticed that one! Anyway, let's take a walk."

And with that, I held out my hand to help her up. We walked off, hand in hand, both wearing nothing but sunglasses, hats, and suntan lotion. The breeze was glorious, the sun not too hot. A great day already, and I was happy she'd loosened up enough to try this.

Another 100 yards down the beach was a guy surf fishing, also naked, two buckets nearby along with a stand to put the pole into after casting. Not letting go of her hand, I walked up to him. "What are you fishing for today?" I asked.

"Anything that will bite," he said genially, taking in me in a glance and Anne in a much longer, but not leering, way. "Actually, I'm hoping for pompano, but I'll take blues. Absolutely not even a bite out here today for the past hour, though. Still, hoping - that's what fishermen do. Pompano's the best eating fish around here - ever had it?"

"No, never have. Never even tried surf fishing," I answered. In fact, I've probably fished a good half dozen times in my life, so had no idea what I was talking about.

"Oh, it's nothing very skillful - just launch it out there. Want to try?" he offered.

"Not me, but Anne, I'll bet you've never surf cast - you take a shot at it!" I said, enjoying her continuing bit of discomfort, now being so close to yet another naked guy with no way to cover up and no way to deny he was uncovered as well. He was about my height, also looked to be in decent shape, no tan lines, but not nearly as dark as Beachcomber Bob - he would have passed for regular guy, given a suit of clothes. As with everyone on the beach, he was in hat and sunglasses, nothing else. He wasn't all hairless, but it appeared he had manscaped his chest - his back was clean- and his pubes, which were barely longer than the scruffy beard look, maybe to make his pretty average sized and circumcised dick look bigger? I hoped so - a kindred spirit or something. I trimmed myself down there, not just for that reason, but also knowing it wouldn't make mine look any smaller, and figuring it might be more attractive to Anne when she was orally inclined. While I was calculating that, Anne spoke up.

"Oh, that big rod thing looks too hard to control!" she demurred, then when I gave her that look, she realized she was falling into unintentional double entendres again, without an exit plan.

"No, it's easy!" the guy continued, not pressing her on the pun, if he got it, which I suspect he did. "Here, let me show you!" And with that, he reeled in his line, finding it empty of bait. There were two hooks maybe six inches apart, a sinker, and some other sort of doodads on the line. Re-threading the two hooks with live shrimp from one of the buckets (I noted that the other one was empty - no doubt awaiting the catch of the day), He handed the rig to Anne, who had no idea what to do with it.

"I think she'll need your help," I offered, assuring him that this was going to be okay with me. With that, he stepped behind her and placed his hands over hers, showing her where to grasp the rod and its reel. Then he told her something about the reel that I supposed controlled the line. I stepped out of the way as he nudged her forward and they waded into the surf, about knee-deep. Pulling the rod back, he basically did the cast, with her wrapped in his arms, her hands on the fishing gear. The line went sailing out past the nearest line of breakers. I never saw it enter the water, but he seemed satisfied.