The Beach

It was a blisteringly hot week on the south coast of France. My fiancé and I had spent our days lunching at beachside hotels and shellfish restaurants, walking the promenade and looking out over the sea. Then after a few days James's friend Neil joined us from London.

That first day I went topless in front of both boys. I liked the attention and Neil's eyes almost burst seeing me. I fantasized about my fiancé and Neil both kissing me, loving me, fondling my body, but it wasn't until the next day that my hopes became something more solid.

We spent the whole day at the beach; a sweltering 85 degrees. I am half Indian but even my skin was dried out from the heat. Neil and James put a lot of lotion on themselves. I'm sorry, but I liked to see them rubbing the cream into their shoulders and chests, their legs and backs, to see them mess about in the sea like big kids

I went topless again, a lovely pert 32c among all the petite French teenagers and wrinkled old ladies, the cubby Germans and frigid English girls. I milked it. Yes, I reclined on my palms, the sun and their eyes upon my proud breasts. Even James stared at me, even when he'd seen me a hundred times before. And Neil stared too, photographing in his mind the outline and roundness of each boob, the large, perfection of my dark nipples, the superior brown fleshy soft sexiness of my naked bosom. I looked bigger than most girls because I am quite petite.

After the beach we went for dinner, then returned home and showered. I was last to shower.

I emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a long white petticoat and a white-cropped top. My bare arms and midriff were a little red from the sun. I stood in the kitchen area, running a comb through my wet hair. Neil and James glanced over from the sofa. It may have been hot in the flat but why did I wear such a skimpy outfit? Why such a transparent top? My top was a particularly tight fitting one, and with my long black hair, brown legs and curvy figure I looked sensational. Sorry. I'm a big head. Feeling attractive made my nipples hard, and I think they must have made small indents in the cotton top. Was I showing off? Yes. Exhibiting my chest with no bra and loving the attention. Exerting my power over the boys? Yes. Feeling gorgeous and horny? Yes. Thinking I was IT. Yes.

I sat down at the table and glugged a glass of wine down. Dutch courage? For what? Neil and James were both showered and in their underwear, plus a t-shirt. We had fans but it was still damn hot.

A bottle of fizzy-stuff exploded and we drank Champagne on the sofa. I sat between the boys. I felt great. But a little sore. I took some Nivea and applied it to my neck and collarbone, my arms, tummy and to my legs. 'A bit dry,' I said. We continued to chat, drink and watch TV. I confessed that my boobs were sore from the sun. Neil and James were sore too and applied 'After Sun' to their faces and shoulders.

'Meena?'

'Yes?'

Neil was about to ask me a very, very cheeky question.

'If you are happy to be topless on the beach, why not be topless now?'

'Why would I want to be topless now?' I asked. I wasn't offended, just curious. James did not seem too bothered either by this brazen assertion.

'If you're sore, if you're uncomfortable, you should not think that just because I am here...'

I felt somewhat affronted at Neil's forward impudence. I glanced and James. He shook his head and smiled. He did not object. I suddenly, spontaneously, shockingly did something rather rash. 'Okay,' I exclaimed, a little angry, 'I could do with some Nivea.'

I quickly, maybe a bit drunkenly, lifted up my cropped top and cast it aside. I sat there all of a sudden in just my petty-skirt. My chest was heaving. My emotions were running high. I took some moisturiser and applied a little to the tops of my boobs, then carried on as normal.

In this way we three carried on as if all was normal. Neil and James chatted across me; we shared comments, watched French TV, and sipped our wine. To tell you the truth I was feeling amazingly aroused. Can you imagine? Such sexy freedom and comfort, sitting in ones skirt and nothing else? I took more Nivea. I applied it fully to my chest. I enjoyed the cool cream on my nipples, the relief, the interest this action inspired, the way my tits looked, the way I felt between my legs, the way my clit seemed to tingle even though I hadn't touched it.

Both boys I am certain were hard as beach rocks.

Neil again plucked up his courage. 'Meena?'

'Yes?'

'Do you feel sore? On your breasts I mean? '

James was silent. Had he and his friend pre-arranged some sort of prank or dare?

'Not really,' I said. I looked down at my bare chest -- they looked fuller, more tanned, and more proud than they had done ever. God I looked fit.

'So it doesn't hurt to touch them?'

'No.'

'Can I touch them?'

I paused. I turned my head to my fiancé. He looked back at me, blank, and made no comment. Right, I thought, fuck you James and fuck you Neil. I don't care anymore: 'Yes, Neil, sure, you can touch them...'

The next thing I knew Neil's hand was on my left breast, and then he was cupping it, then wet-fingering my nipple, then he was pressing his mouth on the shoulder, his mouth on my tit, his mouth over my breast. Oh gosh. It felt weird but amazing some strange man on my chest, his hands on my body, my arm, my arms, my tummy. I just sat there, passive, expectant, sexy... I started to breathe heavy. My gosh, Neil's mouth was working expert on my nipple, tingling me now with his tongue. His hand was on my stomach, below my stomach, beneath my petticoat. I looked at James. My fiancé was preparing himself -- he was taking off his t-shirt; I could see inside his pants he was hard as hard could be.

Then two hands from two boys. James was between my legs. My petticoat was pushed up over my knees. I parted my legs and allowed James between them. I arched my back and allowed Neil to rub his hand just above the pubic hair of my pussy. I was losing it; losing control.

I remember at one point James had his finger inside me. So wet. In out in out. Oh gosh! His other hand was stroking my right hip, up along my body, to the base of my boob. Then on my breast. Oh fuck. Neil then had his hand on my nipple, his hand on my arm, and his mouth on my mouth -- I opened my lips for him, wet dreamy French kisses together -- and at the time James was fingering me, another hand on my stomach and his mouth, Oh, oh baby, his mouth licking my clit while he fingered me. It was like an octopus was fucking me...

Neil -- my finances' best friend - lazily lay down on his back -- naked now - his throbbing 7.5 inch cock upright and to attention - his middle-aged body at my mercy - and as if we'd been rehearsing it for months I naturally positioned myself astride him. 27 years old. He is over 40. I moved above him. He ran two hands down my sides and hips, moved up to buttocks and before I knew it I could feel his big cock hard at the opening of my pussy.

I can't tell you how easily that monster thing eased into me. Oh god.

'Ah!' I exclaimed with genuine joy. 'Oh. Oh yeah.' I hadn't expected him to feel sooooo fucking nice. I moved gently up and down on him, vaguely aware that James was just behind me, watching my back, watching my bare frame totally connected to another man. Did he put a hand on my back? On my bottom? I don't recall. It was like I was riding on a massive dildo, but the dildo had hands, and those hands were rubbing my tits, holding my hips as if scared i'd move. Oh god, I was cuming. And so soon. I wished it would last longer. 'Oh Neil. Oh that's so good...oh yes.' It seemed so natural, so everyday, so perfect. I felt so damn sexy. I could see Neil was goggling my body; eyes bulging as his cock was bulging. I could sense his excitement. 'Yes, oh fuck yes, are you gonna cum?' I was losing myself in the experience, my body was going limp, and I slumped forward, no longer the assertive, upright sex goddess, but the weak and submissive orgasm -- and as I rested on him, he pushed and pushed -- 'oh yes baby...yes Neil...' His cock felt very very different. Bigger. Yes. But also different completely. Oddly. And he pushed and pushed and groaned and we came together -- he came uncontrollably inside me, I felt it, his spunk, his hot cum. Oh wow. Just writing it now gives me goosebumps. Oh wow. Mmmmm my. Mmmmm yes. I feel it. Fuck me, Neil. And his face was like in pain and he groaned like a little boy who is denied sweeties. Meena! Fuck. Oh god, Meena! And I lay ontop of him -- and I looked over at James beside me.

James was sitting there, a spare wheel, awkward, just beside me. His cock was in his hand, but his pants were still on. 'I am spent, James,' I said, exhausted, speechless almost.

Neil pulled himself out and moved away from me. He left me limp on my tummy on the sofa. I felt bad for James. 'Come here,' I said, and I opened my mouth for him.

His cock is in my mouth. It was harder than usual. He was moaning louder than usual. I thought he was going to cum straight away but he pulled out, moved quickly and held me by the arms. He gripped me roughly. He wasn't usually rough. He pushed me onto my back and lay me on the sofa beneath him. I looked over at Neil. He was in the armchair. Naked. Holding his dark, moist, flaccid cock. James pinned me down, opened my legs and entered me with his hardness. Could I have another orgasm? Probably not. Not so soon. James pushed rapid and aggressive. It felt...oh gosh James. The thought of him cuming in me as well. I felt like a nasty little bitch. James was already cuming; cuming on his friend's cum. Oh my god, cum on his cum, I could feel Neil's cum oozing out of me, just as I sensed and heard James cum in me. Two boys.

Oh wow. I am such a dirty, horny, lovely little slut. Oh wow. It was, I swear, the horniest experience of my life.