The Brave Woman Speas

I am "Carol". Yes, it all happened as "Lee" described it (I'll call him that here). That was quite a day and I am not ashamed. That was a long time ago, a little more than thirty years, I'm a different person now but I always smile to myself when I think back on that day at the beach. I think Lee did an accurate job of describing the events, and a fair job of describing my feelings during and afterwards, but that's the part I think needs more explanation—my feelings and why I did what I did. Probably nowadays such behaviour is more common, but in those days this was risky and unusual. I prided myself then as I do now for having taken such a risk and making myself so vulnerable and triumphing over any negativity. But what I want to say here is that at the time, I was trying to overcome all the inhibitions I'd been taught by parents, church, school, society. I wanted to rebel even if it meant consequences, I wanted to flaunt the norms of my upbringing even if it meant I'd have to define myself in a whole new way, I wanted expose myself even if it would leave me no place to hide.

Before meeting Lee at the lab, I'd had many boyfriends. If I liked a new guy and saw potential, I'd fuck him on the first or second date (I always called this my "invitational", or "trial" fuck. This was so I'd know if we were sexually compatible. That was the most important thing to me, and I wanted to get that question out of the way. As a grad student I didn't have a lot of time to waste. (Note: we wouldn't even have a first date if he wasn't attractive in the first place; the guy had to be confident, secure, have a good personality, be financially responsible, sensitive, all the rest of the desirable things before I'd even be interested. Those traits had to be apparent right away, before getting to dating. If he got a first date, he probably got a fuck.) Back to the sexual compatibility: I love sex, and wanted a good fit. The cock must fit me and not be so big as to hurt, and not so thin as to slip around too much, and not so short as to not reach inside me far enough. Also, once inside, I want the top part of his shaft to put pressure on my clit. This can be learned later, but the fit must be there to start. If all these things don't come together on the first try, we might continue to be just friends but I'll look elsewhere for sex. Having a large number of first or second dates that didn't work out sexually taught me a lot about guys, but mostly confirmed to me what I like. With Lee, everything came together just right on the "invitational", so I moved in with him for the rest of the summer.

That should clarify about the sex. Now, about the nudity: I'm not a nudist. I don't take my clothes off unless it's to shower or to sleep or to fuck. If you saw me naked on the beach that day, it was because I was fucking. That day I really didn't consider my nudity or even my fucking to be that private.

What I did try to keep private was my orgasms, and it took me a while to be able to willingly share them with onlookers. At first I tried to hide my face as I came, but eventually I realized that my seeking humiliation and vulnerability could be successful only if I shared the most intimate, private, part of me: the feelings you could read on my face as I climaxed. That is different for every woman, and for me it is sharing what I alone can give. I made myself very vulnerable by inviting strangers to make eye contact during my orgasms. If anyone had ridiculed me at that critical time, I would have been devastated—this was the risk I wanted to take. Remember, as Lee wrote, I was doing this without alcohol. I was completely sober and well rested. I was completely aware of what we were doing and could have stopped at any time. I wanted to do something that nobody else had done (at least at that time and that place): put the most private, intimate part of me out there for all to see, and take a chance on being rejected or humiliated. As it turned out, it was thrilling.

Let me tell you a little about getting ready for the beach: I knew I wanted to expose myself, but at the same time I didn't want to appear as cheap. So the day before, I got my hair done, putting it up in a really classy bun in back with a few strands forward, and painted my nails. Before leaving for the beach I did just a touch of make-up, and put in tiny earrings and a simple thin necklace with a single pearl. I could have just as well be heading for high tea, except that I also removed all my pubic hair. (This was a bold move for the times; very few women did this back then. But then remember, the aim was to expose myself, and I didn't want to be hiding behind a patch of hair.) Funny that Lee didn't mention this in his narrative. I wanted all of my pink to show. He did mention about holding myself open, I'm just surprised he didn't dwell on the exposed lips and the pink, like most guy writers would.

As we got near the beach, I felt a mix of excitement, dread, adventure, terror, but never once suggested turning around. This was something I was determined to do. (By the way, Lee led you to believe that we'd just heard about this beach. Well, I didn't let Lee know at the time, but I'd been there several times earlier in the summer with other guys I was trying out. Since those were first or second dates, I did fuck a number of them as "invitationals", but up in the dunes where we couldn't be seen. Otherwise I kept my suit on. In those cases the invitationals didn't work out, so I moved on. I saw people were nude, but no sex. In fact, seeing no sex there gave me an incentive to do this, but only at the right time and with the right guy—someone who could pass the invitational.)

Back to our drive there: all we had with us was a sheet, a couple of towels, some soft drinks in a small cooler, sunscreen, and a sun umbrella. The calendar was good for me, so we didn't need condoms, which I hate anyway. After we parked the (borrowed) car and were on the footpath down to the beach, we planned how we were going to pull this off. We decided the best thing to do was to get to work right away before anything could dissuade us. We'd best set up right where the path gets to the beach, so as to not get distracted and also to make sure any new arrivals would see us. So, we figured we'd arrive on the beach, spread out the sheet, strip, and (literally) mount up.

And that's exactly what we did. At first I had to put myself in the frame of mind that we were alone, so we took up a position with Lee on top. I asked him to not move, but just lie there inside me, I would do the moving when we'd be seen. It was easy to not move around, since I was terrified knowing that someone would appear soon—well, wasn't this what I'd planned? My feelings of humiliation were overwhelming, even with no one around. I was lying naked on the ground, looking up. At least on the main part of the clothing-optional beach you could do this, but then so is everybody else. And they're not fucking! As I heard rustling along the path, I knew someone must be approaching, and I was completely freaking out inside my head but trying to remain calm on the outside. I was not just lying there naked and looking up, I was lying there naked and looking up and fucking! Since we were right where the path empties onto the sand, it took less then a minute for three guys and two girls to appear out of nowhere, and they were now about a meter from us. I'm lying there naked and fucking and looking up at them looking down at me lying there naked and fucking and looking up at them. This first encounter was the most thrilling, terrifying, humiliating, and exciting I had ever felt in my life. In my mind I was screaming, but my mouth was too dry to utter anything. Lee was on top of me looking down, so he couldn't see them; this terror was all my own. I felt so vulnerable—what if they laughed at me, or kicked sand in my face, preached the bible at us? Time just stood still, until I broke the stop-frame by drawing my legs up around Lee's hips and arched my back a little. This brought smiles from our visitors, and they moved on.

Several minutes to sort out my feelings, which by now were totally scrambled and exploding in my head. But not for long—next came a group of guys joking and already opening their beers. They actually stopped to chat with us for a while, mostly with Lee since they were afraid to look me in the eye. Lee's brain seemed to be blanked out, so the guys didn't stay long. Another, smaller, group came along and two of them dropped their trunks and started handling themselves. This made me a little nauseous and I asked them to stop. I didn't want to have to clean their stuff off me. Remember, I had fixed my hair and wanted to remain presentable. Just telling them to stop gave me a feeling of immense power. This showed me I was in control of the situation, so I determined that for the rest of the day I would be in charge. Many more people streamed by us, most just giving smiles or a wave, some stopping to chat a little, some showed discomfort but moved on. I didn't really feel good about causing anyone discomfort, but then I figured they had to be in charge of their own feelings.

Only one person was openly judgmental. With me still on my back and Lee inside me, she called us perverts and that we shouldn't be doing this and that we were sinning against God and nature and the nation and everything else. The people with her just stared at her, mortified but not saying anything. She did not bother me one bit. I was in charge. I could control the situation. So I did. I rolled Lee over, stood up, and then squatted over him, taking him inside me on the way down, so now I was sitting up. Not quite at her eye level, but enough so I could look her directly in the eye as I started a steady up-and-down motion on Lee. Looking her straight in the eye I calmly asked her if she ever did anything just because she wanted to and not just because she thought she was allowed to. She sputtered a little and then stalked off, followed by her buddies, who looked back and gave me smiles and a thumbs up!

More people coming by, in groups and singly. Some visibly uncomfortable, some amazed, some trying to ignore us, all of them entertained whether they wanted it or not. Throughout the day a few guys tried to proposition me, thinking that being naked and fucking means form a line. I was not and am not that sort of person. I had taken the trouble to make myself look pretty for the day, had decided and planned my day, and chosen the person I wanted to do it with. This was an exclusive date with Lee. I don't share. I had never slept with more than one guy at a time, (unless more than one "invitational" fuck was required, in which case I always informed everyone involved). Back to the propositioners: rather than take offense I chose to be polite. Remember, I'm naked and fucking, not exactly the high hand in any bargaining. I thanked them for their interest in me, took it as a compliment that they wanted to fuck me, but that I was on a date. Most accepted my explanation with a smile, some grumbled, one gave me a high-five (the only time all day that I touched someone other than Lee), some stayed to watch, but all eventually moved on. The very idea of being propositioned at first made me ill, but then I realized I had handled each situation in a lady-like manner (considering the circumstances), and that I was entitled to feel good. So I did.

Lee already described our stand-up lunch at the hamburger stand, so I don't need to tell you about it. Only that I felt very, very empowered, especially since it was my idea: just walk up to the vendor, order food and a drink, and (to Lee), a fuck. This was even more out in the open then our spot on the sand. And we were standing up. The burger vendor was right in the middle of all the beach activity: volleyball, frisbee, jogging, bodysurfing, and here we were doing a slow stand up fuck with everything going on around us. We probably didn't look like we were fucking. I was bent over the make-shift counter a little, and Lee was behind me. I've seen other couples stand close together, one behind the other, and I imagine we looked a lot like that. Except that Lee had to bend his knees to get lower, and also, anyone who had arrived on the beach after us knew who we were and what we were likely to be doing. I tried to remain calm, but inside, I was scared to death. This was really pushing the limits. I managed to eat the burger, but Lee spilled his drink all over me. He told me later he was really keyed up. I think women can handle casual fucking much better than men can.

Later, back on our sheet, Lee told me he just couldn't perform any more. He'd already come about three times so far, over about five hours. And I was starting to get sore and beginning to chafe, so we agreed to do something different: I took his face between my legs, and just enjoyed being tended to. This gave even more humiliation and vulnerability than before, because now I was in a near-sitting position, and could expose myself even more just by moving Lee's head aside. And with my recent shave, I was naked as possible. Nothing was hidden by pubic hair. And I felt at my prettiest. My hair was still up, tasteful jewelry in place, nails nicely done, I felt like a queen on a throne. As my "subjects" came by (people were now leaving the beach, and I could see them approach from a distance), I could just ask Lee to catch his breath, spread my legs wider and let the sun shine in. It was wonderful. Leaning back on my elbows I could easily talk with anyone coming by. This for me was the most conversational and rewarding part of the day. This is when so many women wanted to talk with me. Many expressed jealousy that their boyfriends or husbands were noticing me too much, some wanted to know was I drunk (no, I don't drink), was I a whore (no, I was just on a date with someone I chose), didn't I feel 'dirty' (no, I felt good displaying my love for someone). Some made funny but welcome comments about what they'd seen or thought they'd seen at the hamburger stand earlier, some wanted to know if my pussy was getting sunburned (maybe, but I'd kept it well oiled throughout the day). Lots of the guys leaving the beach gave Lee a high-five. Some left little slips of paper with phone numbers on them. One person (you've already met her) left a business card with the name and address of a church on it. (I wonder if her pastor knows she spent a day nude in public!)

I'm glad this was before cell phone cameras and the internet. A few of the beach goers had those big, bulky 35mm film cameras, but most respected our "privacy", such as it was, by not pointing the cameras toward us. I'm sure somebody must have photographed us from a distance, and I'd really love to see those pictures. I don't know what I would have done if somebody had asked us to pose. At the time I probably would have refused, but now in my later years I think I'd really value the pictures.

As a woman, I had a lot to deal with that day and in the weeks afterward. I was a frazzled bundle of emotions for quite a while, but still I'm really glad to have done it. At various times during the day, depending on the immediate circumstances, I felt a very wide range of human emotions. Fear, ecstasy, terror, wonder, disbelief, alienation, companionship, humiliation, satisfaction, vulnerability, sexiness, joy, content, you name it. But not shame or regret.

My husband, whom I met years later) knows about that day. Given the same time and circumstances I would do it again. I would recommend my daughter to do it, if she had the chance, as long as she was doing it of her own volition and not to please someone else.

My own fast forward: I didn't want to become a celebrity at the beach, so we did other things on the weekends before we each headed back to our separate schools. Over the next few years we kept in touch (phone, letters, in person when we could), and entered our different professions. We each married other people, and lost contact with each other. Lee was one of many men in my life during those years. He was well aware of my system of "invitations" and of the other men I was trying out at the time, as was my husband when we first met. (He won on the first date.)