Part 4 Holidays do not last for ever
The next morning found Simon up and heading away from the town beach, away towards the open horizon, the beach just going on and on into the distance. Certainly, by arrangement. Daphne had said they should meet up away up the strand, where it was quiet. Simon was up for that... he certainly would be! A surprise, though, to find Peter appearing rather out of nowhere and hurrying to join him. Clearly Simon had been observed.
"Good morning, Simon; how are your parents? Mind if I join you?"
It did not take too much to elicit from Simon that he was heading to meet Daphne. Nor that he had met Daphne and Julian the afternoon before. Peter pressed him for details. It was clear he was aroused by Simon's description of the afternoon's activities. Easy to see the sausage shape in his shorts.
"She's lovely, isn't she?" said Peter. "If I was young again..." Did Peter mean he might try and displace Julian? That had certainly not been in Simon's mind. She was so much older than him. Not just one or two years, perhaps as much as eight or ten years more! "But I was lucky enough back then." And he went on to describe a girl he had known -- intimately and what they had done together. A second sausage shape appeared in shorts. Two men enjoying sexual talk and having a pleasant, and mutual, reaction to the ideas and thoughts.
Two figures in the distance. "Is that them?" asked Peter.
It was. Two figures out on the sand, close to the sea. Both clothed, but it was them.
Greetings and the usual enquiries after health. All were well. Indeed, Daphne commented both Simon and Peter were looking 'perky'. She had not missed the sausage shapes.
"All the better for seeing you," said Peter, "you really are delightful you know."
Old fashioned compliments, but welcome, nonetheless. Daphne did one of those female sorts of gestures or movements, a sort of squirm cum wriggle involving hips moving slightly. An indication of pleasure and appreciation. Her dress flowed around her, the hem moving on her tanned legs. Green with vertical white stripes, a bit like her bikini though the stripes flowed the other way. They accentuated her height.
"Are you going to show me your appreciation?" Her eyes rested on Peter's bulge. It too an old-fashioned indicator of approval -- approval of women. Old as the hills almost! "Go on, like the other night. Nothing on."
So pleasurable for a man to be asked to display his tumescent organ and to become naked by a woman and -- and know it will be appreciated. Simon wished he had been asked to do that back at school. He could easily imagine which girls he would have liked to display to! One, two, or three together. 'Go on, Simon, show us.' And, of course, then for them to touch him, stroke him and, eventually, make him cum. Probably it was even better for an older man to be asked by a younger woman. And Peter was old enough, really, to be Daphne's father.
Off came his shirt and then down came shorts and pants. Peter all of a sudden as naked as in the dark and in the dunes that other day. Not a bad looking body for his age at all, tanned and tall, with his upright, ready for action, cock and hanging testes - just so male. Peter smiled at Daphne through his grey beard, his eyes sparkling. He was clearly enjoying the experience. Enjoying displaying his turgidt organ to an appreciative audience.
"It is a fine penis you have there, Peter. I do like it."
A strange grouping there on the strand. A group of four, three clothed and one naked and tumescent.
"I suppose you want to fuck." Generally, that is what men with erections want!
Daphne looked at Julian who shrugged his shoulders. Simon recalled when Daphne had first asked him and he had been worried about Julian, yet Daphne had said something about Julian liking to fuck her 'afterwards'. Julian seemed to have a bit of a thing about sharing.
Peter certainly looked keen and said so. He even mentioned it was the last day of his holiday.
"And what about you, Simon? Go on show me if you are up for that too.
Simon was more than happy to pull off tee shirt and drop his shorts and show. His smooth and youthful cock as up as Peter's rather craggier version with its snaking veins.
"Am I surrounded?" And off came Julian's clothes. She was indeed surrounded; surrounded by naked men armed with weapons, pointed weapons, ready to spear her. Men with spears indeed!
"But do I want to be fucked? I can see you all do. Would I just like to pull on your cocks and empty each of you in my hand? I like to see. I like to see it come out." Daphne reached and her hand closed over Peter's penis, and she stroked. "I like to feel it all hot and sticky in my hand. But you want to fuck, Peter, don't you? Tell you what. If you guess correctly, you can fuck me. If wrong, then you come in my hand. If you guess correctly, you have your fuck: if not, then you don't this holiday!"
"Guess what?"
"Whether I've knickers on or not." Daphne stepped back and stood there, one knee a little in front of the other, all bronzed and shapely in her green and white striped dress.
Could the outline of knickers be seen through the thin cotton? Simon was not sure. "Do we all have to guess?" he asked.
"Oh no, just Peter. Julian fucked me last night before bed and does so often that I can hardly say he can't. You, Simon, need the practice. No, just Peter, but he can watch you both do the deed!"
Was she serious? Was Peter a mere word away from having a holiday fuck -- or not. Gaining a lovely memory -- or not. He was staring at Daphne, both trying to assess what was under her dress and, no doubt, thinking about just how good it would be to get his penis under that and into Daphne. Was the way open or was there cotton in the way?
Daphne moved, one thigh going back, the other forward. Simon still could not discern whether there was anything beneath the dress. The woman even did a little twirl letting the cotton rise and spread a little but not enough to catch a glimpse of white, pink, lemon, mauve knickers or, indeed, bare pudenda. Simon just did not know.
Peter stroked his beard, "I think not. Nothing under your dress."
"Are you going to have a look then; see if you are right?"
An invitation to look not feel and Peter took it. What a thing for a middle-aged man to do to a young woman: reach out and lift up her dress, take its hem in both hands and lift. Even more strange to be doing it naked and with his penis so erect -- standing and very much pointing up at the woman.
Up came the dress, inch by inch and there before them was... just bare skin. Fair curls undoubtedly but no knickers at all, not even G string or thong. Peter had guessed correctly.
"Well done, Peter," Daphne smiled. A beckoning smile. "Well, are you going to?"