This is from last year; something that lead to an even more deeply erotic encounter that I will never ever forget as long as I live. I am sitting on my towel on a beach in Cannes with my fiance. It is hot, but a cool breeze flutters in from the Mediterranean Sea. I am in these dark blue bikini shorts and a matching top. I am admiring my own legs; yes I am vein, and big headed, and big busted. Well, I'm a C-cup – not huge boobs I guess but they look bigger because I'm quite petite: ribs and waist that in comparison make my breasts look fuller. Anyway, I am letting the sun wash over me – it's lovely. Then I am wondering if I should go topless. It wouldn't usually be a dilemma but my fiance's friend Neil is staying with us for a couple of nights. He is swimming a short distance away. I know James won't mind. A few girls nearby are just in their bottoms. There's one woman in this little blue beach skirt nearby who James has been discretely eying for the past ten minutes. I think, okay, to hell with it – and I unhook my top.
It feels so sweet to have the air on my boobs; to be young; beautiful; to be a fair Indian girl with thick, straight, shining black hair and dark eyes, large round nipples, and not embarrassed to show off.
Neil comes out of the water – and his eyes nearly come out of his head. It's so funny, he actually stops in his sandy tracks and stares for a moment, eyes glued to my naked upper body.
'Meena. Wow.' He can't say anything else.
'Alright, Neil,' James says, 'just be natural. It's perfectly normal for women to be topless on the beach.'
'Yeah I know but...wow...you are a lucky guy, James. You're beautiful Meena.'