This is something of a follow-up to my earlier story, 'Fun Times and Threesomes'. At the end of that tale I had promised a sequel, to be ready for the following Valentine's Day Competition; but life got in the way, as it so often does for us all, and I've found myself struggling to make any proper headway into the sequel, tentatively (and very imaginatively) titled 'Fun Times and Foursomes'.
I decided to skip ahead in the story, and write out one of the later chapters I had planned; and given the paucity of writing-time I've had in my life lately, and the number of readers expressing their dismay at the lack of the promised sequel (for which I apologise!), I've decided to publish this completed scene from the tale.
I hope you enjoy it, and my sincerest apologies again for the delay on the full sequel - here's hoping I can polish off the adventures of Jamie, Brett, Mick and Callie in time for the next V-Day contest!
***
Brett had been pestering me since practically the beginning, to go with him to the nude beach.
Well, pestering may be too strong a word. It started out with a few gentle suggestions, the occasional random "I reckon we should go to the nude beach someday" from him, maybe once in a month or so. Enough to earn a roll of the eyes and a "yeah sure, dream on" from me in reply, to which he'd reply with a "yeah, we'll see..." delivered with that grin of his - the shit-eating grin, which I simultaneously hated and loved.
Then maybe of a fortnight, he might lay eyes upon me as I reclined buck naked upon the bed before him, in preparation for a thorough ravishing, and he'd cast a faux-critical eye across me and say "y'know what'd be great for those tan lines? A quick sesh at the nude beach!" He'd cop a bit of grief for that level of cheek, but my light slaps or punches would only make him grin evermore, the shithead.
Then as we got back into summer proper, with the days warming up and the weather becoming more and more beach-friendly, the nude-beach-mentionings came quicker and closer together. Never mind if we went to a regular beach - which we both very much enjoyed, toasting ourselves on the sand, bobbing over the waves, enjoying fleeting touches out of the water and passionate grope-sessions in the deep - there would obviously be no satisfying him until we went to the bloody nude beach.
It all came to a head one afternoon, when I slipped out of my bikini top at a quiet part of the beach. I didn't think about it too hard - we were virtually alone, our nearest fellow sunbathers were a couple hundred yards away and people were only walking by once every five minutes. And it was not like I had put my boobs on full display, I was tummy-down on my towel and I quickly pressed my chest down too, intending only to get a bit of sun across my back for a few minutes.
But it was enough to totally set him off. "Ooh, look out! Jamie's got the birds out!" Brett crowed.
"Oh, shush you," I chastised. "Haven't you seen them a thousand times already? I'd have thought you'd be over them by now."
"There's no getting over perfection," he half-grinned, half-leered.
"You sleaze," I laughed.
"So here you are," he went on. "Tits out in public, finally surrendering to the exhibitionistic urge I've always known you've had. And then you go and press them into the sand!"
"Into my towel," I corrected. "I only want a bit of sun on my back for five minutes, I don't need to go flashing my nips at the whole world."
"At who? Me and a pair of seagulls?" he quizzed. "We're on our own, Jamie. Go nuts! Get 'em out, love!"
"Someone could walk past any minute," I returned, somewhat feebly. "I do know people around here, you know."
"Give them a thrill!" he urged, wickedly. "Go on, roll on over and give the girls some air! You know you wanna."
His incredibly cheesy style of egging me on was having its usual, weirdly successful effect. He knew me too well. He was fully aware that the idea of someone I knew seeing me, laying eyes on my bare breasts, would be a secret thrill. How had this man got so deeply into my head, in such a short period of time?
"Fine," I grumbled - and with a wonderful growing heat in my crotch, I rolled over on my towel and bared my tits to the world, my heart and mind singing as I did it. "But I expect you to tell me if someone's coming, so I can roll over and maintain my modesty."
"Do you trust me?" he enquired, his words dripping with mock-evil and malice.
"No I don't," I told him, fighting back a grin. "Tell me if someone's coming. I don't want anyone to see me."
"Uh huh," Brett returned - voicing not only a temptation to not give any such warning, but also broadcasting his doubts over my wanting no-one to see me.
"Tell me if someone's coming, fuckhead! Or no sex for a week," I promised.
"Fine, fine," he sighed - he'd tested my no-sex-for-a-week threat once before, and he'd definitely come away second best. "How close do you want someone to come before I give you warning?"
"A hundred yards."
"A hundred? What about fifty?"
"I said a hundred," I told him, punching him in the thigh for emphasis. "Fifty is too close."
"Come on. Who can see boobs from fifty yards?"
"Are you saying my boobs are small?" I growled, leaping up onto my elbows to fix him with a challenging eye.
"What's wrong with small?" he cried. "Come on James, you've got the best B-cups in the business! You know I love your Itty Bitties."
"I hate when you call them that," I groused again, fighting back another grin - I secretly loved when he called them that. I loved that he loved my smallish boobs, though I did hate that he knew he could get away with calling them 'the Itty Bitties'.
"Yeah, sure you do. By the way, I reckon that guy's about twenty yards away."
He was looking behind me - my heart froze, as I had my head turned to chastise Brett but my body was still aligned towards the sky, making my bikini-bottoms-only state of affairs all too evident to anyone so close.
I looked. And of course there was no one for miles.
"YOU FUCKER!" I roared, but he was already up and away, whooping and cheering as he sprinted for the water. I gave chase automatically, a half-dozen steps into the pursuit before I realised I was on my feet and sprinting across a wide expanse of flat sand with my tits bared to the world...
But I didn't care. I had to catch Brett and fuck him up for his cheek.
He was fairly quick for his size, our Brett. Five foot ten but nearing 200 pounds, he was built solid and strong. He's proven himself fairly adept at flinging my somewhat-slight frame around a bedroom, but you wouldn't think him capable of covering ground at any significant pace; as it turns out, when he's got a raving topless woman on his heels with her mind bent on retribution, he can move pretty fast.
Not fast enough, though. I am a serving surf life saver, of course; I knew how to maximise my inputs in running across the beach, and once he was in the knee-deep white water, his fate was sealed.
I pounced upon his him, my breasts pressing into his tanned bare back and my arms about his neck even as he kept struggling on. I locked him in a fairly mean choke-hold as I wrapped my legs around his strong, heaving core, my sex suddenly grinding against the small of his back in the most delightful way.
He's plenty wily though, our Brett. He used the impact of a waist-high breaker to fling himself into the water, the jolt loosening my headlock and knocking me free somewhat. He was able to bundle me up and spin me about his torso as he rose back above the surface, even as he kept striding forwards to get us beyond the breakers; and as we stood in deeper and calmer water, the waves surged and fell above and below my chest, caressing my breasts and teasing my nipples relentlessly.
The action of the water on my seldom-bared breasts had been forced to the back of my mind, however. He was hard; he had been aroused from the moment I slipped demurely out of my bikini top, I had seen the bulge in his board shorts Â- noting it casually at the time, as though it was nothing unusual. It was a bit trickier to be so casual about it now though, that his hard-on was pressed rough and needing into my cleft, only his board shorts and my thin bikini-bottom between us.
And he was kissing me. Kissing me as hard as his cock was pressing into me, conveying his want, transmitting his need. Seeing me, being with me as I bared my breasts to the world, had riled him up so quickly and so immensely...
And I was right there, brought right up to speed with his arousal in the space of seconds.
We kissed each other long and lustily, as though we were in a bedroom instead of the plain light of day. My nipples ached as I pushed them into his strong chest, and my clit burned as I ground it against the heft of his shaft. His hands grasped me strongly, traced through my wet hair, down the curve of my back to claim my butt roughly, possessively. My fingertips traced the strength of his jaw, the power in his shoulders, through the tufted thickness of his chest hair and across his stomach to land upon the lump in his shorts, which set him afire anew, his breath hissing inwards at the delicacy of my touch as I cradled his hardness in my hands.
We needed each other. And we needed all barriers gone.
He was hitching my bikini bottoms away even as I started reaching for them - they fell away at his urging, the water lapping and kissing my pussy gently, almost lovingly as he slipped the garment down my legs. I reached down to claim them from him even as he got me naked - naked in public, naked out in the broad daylight and the fresh air, for the first time in my life. I revelled in the feeling, the freedom, the wickedness and wantonness of it, even as I had the sense to claim my bikini bottoms from him and feed my arm through a leg-hole to keep them close, half-suspecting he would "accidentally" lose them and leave me to cross the thirty yards of beach to our towels in my utter nakedness once we were done in the water.
Potential crisis averted, it was time to strip him naked too. His shorts were gone in a flash, pushed rudely down his legs to bare his cock to me - and in another flash that cock was back in my cleft, grinding bare and intimately against my clit and sending a new thrill of shivers throughout my body.
"Mmm..." he growled into my ear, even as he held me as close as can be, grinding into me slowly and teasingly. "I've finally got you naked at a beach," he observed, with satisfaction.
"Congratulations," I allowed, in a low and sexy tone of my own.
"Thank you," he beamed. "Fun, isn't it? Completely starkers, bare to the sun and the world, free to be seen by anyone any minute..."
"I think we're fairly safe out here," I hazarded. "We're a good sixty yards out, my butt's below the water and my boobs are crushed into you - what's there to see?"
I saw the twinkle in his eye, and I instantly knew I'd said too much.
