A few years ago, at the end of September, I managed to get an entire week off and decided to spend every minute I could at the beach. If you’ve read my previous stories, that shouldn’t surprise you. In an effort to recuperate from a summer of long work hours, I’d decided to spend my entire vacation making a concerted effort at getting my somewhat faded tan back.
By Wednesday, after four days of tanning, I had most of my color back and sported nice crisp tan lines from the Koala microkini I’d been wearing. Interestingly, I really hadn’t been to that particular beach very often on a weekday and was amazed that so few people used it, even though the weather was perfect. However, on that particular day, as I began to head out of the parking lot and venture down the trail to the beach, I did notice a trio of people in the parking lot gathering up an unusually large amount of gear for their trip to the beach.
There was something strange about them and I decided I’d keep an eye on them throughout the day, just in case something interesting might arise. I planted myself in my usual place and settled in for some more sunning when it suddenly hit me. I remembered hearing long-time locals at the nude beach talk about how San Onofre had been the setting for countless nude photo shoots and several adult films and videos. It occurred to me that the “strange” thing about the trio in the parking lot was that the bags they were lugging down to the beach were equipment bags and that one of the girls looked familiar. Needless to say, my curiosity peaked and I quickly slipped on my Koala and headed back in their direction to investigate. The beach access trail courses through a deep ravine to get to the sand and after more than twenty minutes, the group had not yet emerged from it.
Doing my best not to be noticed, I quietly crept back up the ravine in the direction of the parking lot hoping to maybe catch a beauty being photographed without my being noticed. About halfway back up the ravine, I carefully peered around a large pile of rocks and finally saw them. Sure enough, the guy was a pro photographer and he was taking photos of a phenomenal looking brunette as the other girl assisted with the equipment and ran a small video camera.
The model had long brown hair, big brown eyes, stood about 5’ 5” tall and had surgically perfected D+ breasts. She was clad in a tiny, green g-string bikini that the other girl periodically sprayed with water to make transparent and from my vantage point about twenty feet away, I could see her tiny areola through the top and a narrow strip of pubic hair just above her pussy through the thin material of her bottoms. After couple of minutes, the model removed her top and assumed various positions as the photographer snapped roll after roll of film. Then, to the delight of my now stiffening penis, she removed her g-string. To get the most out of the mid-morning sun, the photographer had her move into position on a large rock facing in my direction. I watched closely as the model began to masturbate, gently massaging her clitoris in a circular motion with one hand and one of her erect nipples with the other, prompting me to begin massaging my cock through my suit.
At this point, it was silly to think that my g-string was going to contain my erection and I unhooked it and let it fall to the ground. In no time, I was happily jacking off to the little show the brunette was unknowingly putting on for me until I was suddenly shocked back to reality.
“Hi!” the brunette called out, waving in my direction.
I’d been caught! Not knowing what to do in this embarrassing situation, I just smiled and waved back. Now panicked, I picked my rumpled suit and struggled to put it back on, but getting it over my erection proved to be futile. I decided I should just to fess-up.
“Sorry,” I sheepishly called back over to them. “I didn’t want to disturb you guys.”
“Come on over,” the model offered.
I managed to get about half of my throbbing cock back into my suit, emerge from behind the rock pile and walk over to them. I could practically feel all of their eyes riveted on my crotch as I approached.
“Were you enjoying yourself?” the photographer asked.
“As a matter of fact…” I started, smugly.
“So was I,” the brunette interrupted.