Author's Notes:
All characters in sexual situations are at least eighteen years of age.
*
I sat back and wondered why I loved summer so much, as I gazed from my banana chair perched on top of the first dune back from the water. From there, I could see miles of white sand covered by just a couple of feet of water in most places, with a few deeper holes, ideal for a dip. Although this view is what I consider the most beautiful in the world, I closed my eyes and had a huge range of visual and emotional memories come flooding through my brain. I tried to remember my very first image of the beach and summer.
I remembered when I must have been around four years old; playing in the back yard of the house I grew up in, in the small country town where I lived until I was ten. Summertime then meant an all-encompassing warmth, the freedom to take your shirt off, playing down by the river, setting up the kiddie pool and slippery dip in the back yard, staying up late, parties with friends of the family, and some time in the big city with a chance to go to the beach.
I enjoyed the pool in the back yard the most. How much more fun can you get than that? The sun, the slippery dip, the splashing, and the wet ground between your toes as you line up for another slide into the pool. Little did I know that there would be greater pleasures in life, not as simple or pure, but better just the same.
The river was a fantastic place too, swinging from the willow tree branches that bent down into the water, riding around on inflated tractor tubes, savouring hot chips that cost ten times less than they do now, and imagining I could live in a shale cave behind the reeds that lined the river. It was also a place to get away from the parents to read girlie mags that some kid pinched from their dad, smoke cigarettes (no health warnings in those days), and check out the older, more developed girls. Those girls occasionally did a bit of flashing, and our group took turns daring each other to kiss the girls that were our own age.
When the family travelled eight hours to the city once a year to visit our relatives, we would also visit the beach. The size of everything in the city was such a contrast to our small country town, so were the big bare breasts in abundance during summer at the pine tree lined beach.
So, from early on, I loved summer. There was just something special about the freedom and adventure that wasn't there in winter, and that internal glow that you only get from sunshine. Above all, I remember the way females seemed to have extra hormones and a need to kiss, flash, and bare more skin. No wonder there is more breeding in the natural world in the warmer months.
When I was ten, I moved from our small country town to the place where I still live today – a coastal area with an abundance of lakes and beaches – about two hours from the city. This meant many summers of surfing, snorkelling, skiing, sunshine, boobs and g-strings. All of that added up to many summers of feeling fit, healthy – and horny.
Once I turned eighteen, and gained some independence, my favourite pastime was making my way through the bushes near the beach via the not too well worn tracks, where the sunlight only came through in very narrow beams. From there, I could see the dunes that rolled up and down the beach – just above the flat section that stretched right down to the water – and the women who lay in the hollows of these dunes.
Once in position, I would just wait for movement in my own secret, shaded world that was such a contrast to the sunlit beach and the noise from the waves and people. I could see all the women – some alone, some in groups of two or more. They couldn't see much of each other, but I could see
all
of them.
When they first got to the beach, I imagined – as I looked at all those lovely women – the thoughts going through their minds. I could imagine them trying to pick out the right spot where no one could see them, but they could have the freedom to expose themselves. I also thought, if they
really
didn't want any one to see them, they simply would not expose themselves at all. Therefore, there was something about exposing themselves that appealed to them. They could have claimed they didn't want tan lines, but unless they were having someone look at their tits enough to care, why bother? In my mind, they were horny girls who liked having their tits out – with the chance of someone seeing them.
The moments surrounding when they first exposed their breasts were the most exciting for them, I imagine. If they had heard, "what are you doing", "hi there", or "nice tits" at that precise moment, they would surely have had heart failure. I expected that they would secretly like to be fully exposed and appreciated in
every
way, but would be too timid to pursue such a fantasy.
This was as daring as those women would get, and although almost all of them were great to look at, it was that boldness and the pushing it to their limit that turned me on. It also compelled me to expose myself, hence my board shorts pushed down my thighs with my dick out, as I knelt in the cool sand. Although there was a chance that someone could still see me from the dunes, there wasn't
that
much of a chance. From behind, though, anyone from the houses could have easily seen me if they had ventured too close.
I often wondered if any woman in the surrounding houses might have spotted me one day and had a little play herself, watching me caress myself to a fully aroused state. I never looked behind, so I never would have known. I only looked at the valleys of the dunes in front of me, laden with brown shiny flesh.
I watched as they turned from one position to another, their breasts swaying in slow motion, like a wave ebbing out to sea. I drank in the sight of their butts and hips, with ascetic curves like the dunes, and the sheen on their sweaty, lotion covered bodies, like the ocean at sunset.
I would work myself up as much as I could, and prolong it as much as possible – sometimes it must have been hours. I watched pair of breasts after pair of breasts, hot arse after hot arse and gorgeous woman after gorgeous woman. I would be stimulated to such a point – with every vein in my body bulging – that it would only take one of these intriguing women to brush sand from her breasts before I would release a strangled cum free into the air.
