Student Bodies - in Spain Vol. 05

Chapter 13 The Beach Frankie

Having persuaded everyone else to write a chapter relating one of their favourite memories it was left down to me to fill in some of the gaps about what we did with the rest of our time, when we were not bonking like rabbits. The answer of course as you will realise is bonking like rabbits.

It appeared that we all, in our different ways, had succumbed to some sort of magic spell or hypnosis, wherein any form of sexual activity was more than okay, it was to be acted upon, sooner rather than later. It rather felt that we all were constantly seeking ways of bringing a little variety into what I can only describe as sexual frenzy. You often read about the sexual freedom of the flower power days, or of various of the 'religious' cults, but believe me they were nothing compared to the enthusiasm which we showed on this holiday. There was, (as far as I know), no belief that this would carry on after the holiday and therefore the pressure to make the most of a good thing was immense.

The various titillations, the stripteases, the fantasies, the humiliations and the opportunities to be either dominant or submissive brought about self-knowledge. I really did like to be humiliated sexually. Most of us girls, we knew as a result of long lazy afternoon chats while the guys were playing football, were turned on by being ordered to do something publicly humiliating.

The times the conversation went along the lines of

'I can't believe you did that.'

'Well, I didn't want to, particularly in front of all those people, but you know he made me.'

We understood that we were all having a good time, and the fact that everyone else was in the same boat, just made it somehow more acceptable.

But I digress. No holiday in Spain is complete without a beach, particularly as our pool was fairly small. It was great to cool down in and there was a little room around it to lie on the grass, but the area was fairly limited. We were also put off a little, particularly in the earlier days, by the pervy pool guy, who came silently and unannounced at various times of the day and evening. We suspected that he did it to catch us girls in a state of undress. Of course as we got more confident in our group, it probably did not help matters that we teased him unmercifully from time to time.

Having seen some of us top-less, it seemed logical that when Simon had seen the pool-man walking towards us down the road, to take up his 'suggestion' that some of us lie naked on the loungers.

Lucy and I were quickly out there, reading, our books resting on our tummies, or with our little bums sticking up under the warming sun.

Some of the others were watching through the window and we were told that he was not doing a lot of pool cleaning. But did Simon have to call out after a few minutes, 'Frankie, have you got a minute.'

I tried to look very unconcerned as I sat up and walked into the house, feeling his eyes on me. I was however one of the first to laugh as Josh went strolling out, with his bathers on I noticed, but sporting a hard--on, with a bottle of sun lotion. He sat down beside Lucy and started to massage the oil into her back and particularly the cheeks of her bottom. I am surprised the pool guy did not fall in, especially as Josh laughed. 'I might as well do the other side while I am here.' He insisted on massaging her tits and shaven pudenda, gradually easing her legs apart in the guy's direction, without apparently taking any notice of him.

Well after that, provided one or more of the boys was around in case we went too far and he tried something, someone regularly gave him a little show. We probably had the cleanest pool in the neighbourhood.

We still used to use the beach a lot, the water appeared clean and there was room to play ball. It was only a few minutes stroll down the main road towards town, past a couple of shops selling beach stuff and refreshments, down an alleyway past a bar. That was difficult, to pass a bar. But there was the golden sand and clean water, and even a salt-free shower. I guess we were about two to three kilometres out of town so it was rarely very busy, despite the fact that there were quite a lot of villas and apartments around.

We girls really just lay in the sun, cooling off in the sea from time to time, and if you were feeling energetic the boys were always playing football, frisbee or volleyball, or 'accidentally' playing rough in the water to try to remove your bikini top.

Sarah Yasmin and Hannah originally would never take their tops off. Cindy Lucy and I would sunbathe without them but sensitively put them on to play ball.

After our first night or so of Trivial Pursuit however, they were so obviously redundant that they were only worn on the road down to the beach and the games, particularly in the water, got a lot friskier.

Josh and Pete arrived back from the bar one lunchtime with a handful of plastic bags.

We girls can be relied upon for our curiosity so we crowded around him.

'We have bought you girls a present,' they said. 'Team Bikinis.'

Sure enough, they had bought six identical white bikinis. Pretty cheap, I would think to judge by the weight of the material.

He got a couple of strange looks, but, always willing to play along, we all slipped the bras on and then, under the protection of our towels because the beach was reasonably busy, the bottoms.

They fitted okay. Hannah was having a bit of trouble squeezing into her top and Yasmin had the reverse problem, but generally speaking they looked all right. If you like team colours that is.

Josh and Pete were urging us all to go for a team swim and I began to suspect the truth. Being a bit of an exhibitionist anyway I went along with them and helped gather the crowd up for a swim.

Sure enough, as I suspected they could not have been more see-through if they had been made from tissue paper. Far worse than I had anticipated.

The tops were bad enough. We were used to showing our boobs and nipples now, but somehow, covered and then exposed again, made it somehow feel a lot worse. Our nipples were standing out from the cold water and the aureoles and even the little pimples on them were there for every Tom Dick or Harry to see. And believe me they were looking.

I guess we were worried about the bottoms and we had every right to be. I took a few steps into shallower water and turned around so the rest of the girls could see.

'Oh nooo,' came the anguished cry from the otthers as I looked down to see how bad it really was.

There we were, practically naked. Those of us who still had pubic hair were embarrassed to see how visible it was. Those of us without just wished we had some, because at least then you would not see the definition of the lips so clearly.

About this time I noticed Pete slip back up the beach and start gathering in all our clothes and towels. There was to be no covering up until the sun dried us.

The boys all cleared off back to the shore, to sit on the beach and wait for us. We took our time, but knew that we had been caught, if not a little unfairly. We could hardly wait for the other holiday-makers to disappear, so out of the water we came.

I maybe flattering ourselves but we were all good-looking girls who could turn a few heads fully clothed. Practically naked we were a riot waiting to happen. I could see a few wives or girlfriends trying to stop their partners from gawping, and one or two guys turning onto their stomachs, I guess to hide the erections.

We walked back up the beach together and stood in a little huddle, negotiating, pleading actually, for our towels back. I had truly given no thought to the sight for sore eyes that bum lovers were getting as we stood talking. I did notice a few more guys walking up and down though. The whole beach had somehow got restless.

The boys relented and agreed that we could have our towels back, but only on the condition that we only lay on them, no covering up.

We were forced to agree, at least so that we could sit down until they dried, and not get covered in sand.

That night in the Villa the guys were cock-a-hoop with the success of their shopping trip, and, a few vodkas later, we had agreed to wear them for a few days more at least if we were going to the beach.

If we had thought that we could stay covered by staying out of the water we were sadly mistaken. They bought a little bucket and constantly soaked us from the shower.

The final indignity came on the third day we had worn them when as we gathered up our towels to go back to the Villa the boys grabbed us and soaked us. They picked up our towels, books and suntan creams, leaving us nothing to carry or hold in front of our exposed bodies as we walked along the road.

What a sight we made for the passer-byes and motorists.

As we reached one of the shops Josh raced in shouting 'Miguel, come and look at those bikinis you sold me. You were right. You can see straight through them.'

Miguel and his two pretty little shop assistants all crowded to the doorway to watch us walk past, Miguel dribbling from the mouth, and probably elsewhere, his two girls, wide-eyed with shock and their hands over their mouths, stifling a grin. For a week or so the boys would get great amusement by 'insisting' that we wore them once or twice a week.

This little amusement faded however when we were told about the beach the other side of town. A little bus went down our main road, past the Villa, through the little town, out along the beach the other side, where, like our side there were a few apartment blocks, villas and even the odd hotel. The road eventually meandered inland as the beach-front gave way to sand dunes.

We had got friendly with a couple of holiday reps from an Eighteenies Holiday Company one night in a club. They said that they held outrageous weekly parties on the beach the other side of town, but that in the daytime, if you walked far enough along there were nudists. They invited us to their next party in just under a week, but told us not to come if we were prudish. We promised to be there and told him that we did not shock easily.

In the meantime we took the bus right the way through town, and out the other side.

We got off at the last stop before the road turned inland where there was a little bar and a shop. You could see already that this was a little raunchier, or is the word sophisticated, as there were a couple of German girls walking around the shop wearing only bikini bottoms. This had been a no-no the other end of town. The bar also was fairly busy, with both topless, and even a few completely naked couples sitting drinking or eating lunch.

We had our lunch with us so the girls stripped off their tops and we started strolling along the beach. The first part of the beach we came to seemed to be mainly families or couples, some clothed, mostly not though. We began to feel a little overdressed, but still carrying bags, towels and lunch it was easier to keep walking. There was a natural division caused by a breakwater running halfway to the sea, and, once past this it was fairly obvious that it was a naked gay beach. Naked couples dotted the beach but always in same-sex pairs. We pressed on, past another breakwater, the last before the dunes at the back became rocks down to the shore. Here was ideal. Not too busy because we had walked probably by now a kilometre or so from the bar. There were a few couples and a small crowd of mixed youngsters about our own age, probably from the Eighteenies holiday group.

You can imagine that we were not slow to strip off. It was a strange feeling being naked in public, even for those of us who had stripped off on stage this was somehow different. I guess unlike true naturists who believe in the wholesomeness of what they do, we were doing it because it got us more sexually aroused than lying around with clothes on.

We ran around, in and out of the water, and even had a game of volleyball on the beach, being anything but discreet as we picked up the ball or fell over trying to return a shot. Hi-fives rapidly became low fives, with a slap on the bum or the tits replacing the celebratory greeting.

Before leaving we showered under a convenient down-pipe on the beach, walked back to the beach bar, and had a naked beer before dressing to catch the bus home.

You can imagine that this wholesome veneer did not last long. The next few days we went again to the same bar and, when boredom set in we had our own version of Jeux sans Frontiere, in this case Jeux sans Vetements, (games without clothes), or shame as it happens.

The first conversation went along the lines of a general question to the boys.

'Which of you is fastest to wank off?' and then whether it would be any quicker if a girl was doing the fellating. It was a quiet day on the beach so we got the guys to lie in a row, towels over their heads so they could not see who was masturbating them, and we got our stop watches out. I guess another advantage that the towels gave was that the boys were shielded from seeing anyone watching them. Thinking about it, that was unlikely to have put them off, and it also enable them to fantasise of anyone they liked wanking them off.

We only had one rule, hands only, but even so the first guy only lasted a little under three minutes, which made it a much shorter game than we had anticipated. Pete was the last to come in at just over five minutes and he admitted that he was enjoying it so much he had tried to make it last a little longer.

An almost unanimous decision was that the losers, Pete and Cindy, his 'handler' would have their bottoms slapped. Pete in fact was the only dissenter as Cindy was delighted for any excuse to have her bottom smacked. We made them stand and hold their ankles, and, while we girls slapped Pete, the guys made a meal of Cindy. This was not quiet, and if the other beach users had not noticed the wanking session, they could hardly miss this one.

The next day of course, we pushed away at the barriers of good taste, and this time told the boys to hold out as long as they could. The losers would be the first boy to come and the last girl to pull off her man. Same rules -- hands only. We all agreed that Sarah, who was amazingly quick to succeed with Luther had bent the rules by squatting in front of him playing with her clitoris. She argued that it had actually distracted her, so we let the result stand. So Luther, and, guess who -- Cindy, bent for the beating. We had to agree that Cindy would be beaten fairly regularly from now on, or we knew she would always try to lose.

Of course the next day had to be No Rules, which of course ended up as a long line of 'sixty-nines'. I was never going to admit it but I know Jon beneath me was not trying too hard to come last or his fingers and tongue would not have been deep within my pussy. Still who cares. It was one hell of a nice afternoon and he came quickly enough that I did not get beaten.

It was strange that here on the beach was the only place that the girls seemed to be in charge. It was us who thought of the games and invariably the boys who had to do something more and more stupid.

We caused a huge laugh one day on the beach when we buried the boys quite deeply in the sand. We dug biggish trenches, leaving their faces uncovered by sand, but covered with a towel. All the rest of their bodies except their cocks and balls were covered by sand. They all had rampant hard-ons even before we had played with them and they could soon hear us hawking our wares down on the waters edge to the strollers-by. We had propped their cocks up with lollipop sticks so that they stood upright rather than flat along the sand.

The other regulars on our little bit of beach knew the sort of games we were playing and had always turned a blind eye. Today however with a lot of encouragement from us they came to study the form, feeling with their hands and giggling a lot. This small crowd encouraged a few others including a couple of gay and lesbian couples from the next beach along. Not unnaturally the gay couples were keen to go a little further but we knew that the boys would be reluctant, so after a little teasing we declined on their behalf. The biggest success of the day came when a German lady, in her sixties, I would guess, came strolling from the bar end of the beach. She was here on holiday with her husband who was rapidly getting drunk again in the bar and she was delighted to try one after the other. I noticed that she had left Luther and Jon until last and almost as soon as she had eased herself, sitting, onto Jon's thick cock, she orgasmed violently, practically knocking all the wind from him.

It had obviously been the high spot of her holiday and she was desperate to repeat it next day before returning home on Saturday. Who were we to refuse. We agreed on the boys behalf before letting her work her way along the row, first masturbating and then eventually sitting on them to achieve an orgasm. She thought she was in heaven with all these faceless cocks. We did try to spread a little neighbourliness around.

A couple of days later we were back at the beach in the evening. It was the Eighteenies weekly beach party. We arrived about ten having had a few drinks at home and en route and settled in at the beach bar, dressed for a change, to have a few more. They had set up a disco with some dancing lights and a small stage about two foot high with some quite bright lights to illuminate it.

These lights also illuminated the dance floor area when turned on, I guess bright for discoing, dimmed for smooches. So far it was a good disco but a pretty ordinary party. I think there were probably about twenty couples altogether. About midnight the disco took a break and they called everybody to grab a partner of the opposite sex and come to the middle of the dance floor, lining up in two rings like for a barn dance.

'You have ten seconds to kiss your partner' was the instruction. No problems there then.

'Boys move two places right and girls two places left. You have ten seconds to kiss your partner. Tongues are mandatory.'

This was good. I came up against a really good kisser. Things were looking up.

'Boys two to the right, Girls two to the left. You have ten seconds to kiss your partner and men, you can play with her tits.'

Just my luck, I had met up with Chris. Now there is nothing wrong with Chris but I was rather hoping for someone new.

'Boys two to the right, Girls to the left. Ten seconds to kiss and fondle each others arses.'

My guy was neat, a Scouser, and he soon got to work on my bum, as I did for him. The ten seconds were quickly over.

'Reverse the order. Boys one to the left, Girls one to the right, and you have only got one area left to play with.'

I guess this move stopped us getting anywhere near our original partners.

He soon had his hand up my short skirt and was easing his way into my g-string. I meantime was rubbing his cock wondering whether I had time to get it out. I decided not and just let myself enjoy being groped. I really was quite wet by now. The helplessness of being told what to do again as always caught up with me. I just squirmed as his finger eased between my lips.

I was surprised to hear the usual cry, 'Boys two to the left, Girls two to the right.'

I was surprised. I had thought we had stopped changing partners for a while. I was partnered now by a tall skinny blonde lad of about 18, but young looking and a bit shy. You can however only be a little shy after the last three or four minutes. We smiled at each other and he laughed, 'A bit corny but have you been here before.'

I had to laugh and say 'No, you.'

He shook his head. 'I can't imagine what's next.'

He was obviously hopeful. We were soon to find out.

'Right I want you to disappear to the darker areas of the beach in your couples and change clothes. Every stitch. If you are wearing shoes you can leave them in a pile here by the stage. Stockings, underwear, the lot. Be back here in five minutes.'