I do wonder though, sometimes, how I think of myself, it's a pleasant sort of curiousness. Am I a gay man who has a girlfriend? A straight man who has been with other men? As more one way than the other? As someone who declines to identify that firmly? Adjectives, not nouns.
I suppose I think of that long flight home, Melbourne to Singapore to Paris, then another flight back home to Berlin, back to my girlfriend, our apartment, our life, the one we'd had together for about three years. Those are the hours I come back to. That stopover. There was enough leading to it though, I had been primed.
I'd been in Australia for about three weeks, first in Perth visiting my sister and her husband, then over to Melbourne to see another couple of friends.
Ilsa hadn't been able to come with me due to work commitments, which meant we had been apart for the first time, for longer than a weekend or so, for those three years. We had a good and varied and busy sex life, we matched each other it seemed, in our desires, our inclinations, and our appetites. She loves being nude together, and with other people, I love seeing her nude with other people, in some of our local saunas, most of them mixed, looking at her walk naked in front of others, her small firm breasts, her thick dark bush. Seeing her next to other women, other men, sitting next to someone older, younger, her bare skin next to his, her soft sex next to his soft cock. Looking at him looking.
And I love our fucking when we get home, god she can turn me on, stripping me slowly, taking off each item of clothing, pulling my underwear off, releasing my penis, easing my underwear down, bending my already half hard cock downwards, letting it spring free, taking me in her mouth, when she is still fully clothed, exposing my swollen tip, pulling my foreskin back with her mouth, and sliding her soft lips over me until I am completely erect, and then stripping, walking in silence to the bed, laying back, pushing her legs wide apart, touching herself, stroking her slim fingers over her thick damp pussy, and then demanding I fuck her.
I mention this to suggest I had missed her, and missed our sex together. Not that I hadn't had the chance to relieve myself, my sister's place was big enough for her to be able to offer me my own room when I was there, the same in Melbourne, I suppose I hadn't thought to masturbate for the first few days, and then, first after we all went to the beach, well, it was slightly masochistic fun not to. Being from Germany I assumed all of the beaches were clothing optional, and was surprised to be told that no, only one of the local beaches allowed you to sunbathe nude. I asked if we'd go there then.
Paul, her husband, looked at me strangely. I may have pushed it, I do prefer to be naked on a beach, swimming especially, I was aware though that even at home this is becoming less fashionable, that more and more people seem to at least affect offence at others being undressed.
I asked if he'd been there before, he said he had, but only with his friends, or Birgitta, his wife, my sister. I said nothing, but smiled a little, as if to suggest 'okay then then, what's the problem?' I'm not sure if he decided okay then, what's the problem, or just didn't want to back down, or appear to be less brave than me. Anyway, we went to Swanbourne Beach, about a twenty minute drive from where they lived. All of us piling into their unnecessarily large four wheeler.
We got there, took a fairly long walk away from the main bit, to the left I think, away from the pathway, and found a fairly quiet spot, passing a few couples, one or two single men, a few families, perhaps twenty or thirty people in total. And all nude. I may as well confess, nude beaches are not an innocent pleasure, not completely, I enjoy the freedom, the more uncomplicated physical sensations of being nude in the open, the sensual joy of being unencumbered by even the smallest item of clothing, it is more though, Ilsa knows, and shares the same passion, it is the thought of being looked at whilst naked. I am in okay shape, I cycle a lot, play tennis, and work out a few times a week, but it's not that, it's not the thought that people are gazing at my body with awe, just that they are able to see me nude, they can see my soft cock, my balls, they can look at what is normally only seen in private, they can look, because I can look, this is the contract, the secret bargain of voyeurism and exhibitionism.
I am sure there are genuine naturists who would be utterly offended at the idea there is anything at all erotic about being nude, and they might be right, it is at a level just below arousal. Of course, this might only be true for me, I should not universalise my own turn ons. Being nude at a beach is a very gently erotic thing for me though, undressing in front of others, seeing them strip, being naked, looking at their bare bodies, men and women, and being looked at.
This is something else I know about myself, I like to look at guys as much as if not more than women: older, younger, I suppose around my age is my preference, but I get the biggest charge from being nude in front of other nude men, looking at their soft penises, watching as they walk to and from the water, as they swim, passing them, seeing them glance at me. I realise I may have pushed for us to go to this particular beach specifically so I could strip with Paul.
We all walked, in a line, near the sea, passing people as we did, nude men and women, some leaping out of the water, over waves, all of us glancing as we looked at large bouncing breasts, long flopping cocks, thick patches of pubic hair, dark, blonde, auburn, all shades and shapes of vivid contrasting sign of sexual maturity. I watched as people passed us, looking behind at full and firm and smooth bare bums, small, tight, large, fleshy asses. As a couple threw a frisbee back and forth, his slim cock jumping and circling in front of the tight round pouch of his scrotum. Her running, her legs apart, the hint of dark smooth skin between her legs, the quickest glimpse of her thick vulval mound.
We found our spot, towards the back of the beach, and unpacked. And all of us suddenly showed a little inhibition. Birgitta undid her long linen dress and let it fall away from her body, and stood in matching black bra and panties, she faced me and Paul. I could already see the shadow of her small nipples from under the thin material of her bra, I looked, quickly, fuck, along with the large dark patch of pubic hair visible within her panties. Women always looked more naked wearing underwear rather than bikinis, did men? I knew they did. The material is thinner, it clings tighter, it reveals the shape of a guy's soft cock more blatantly even that a tight pair of small trunks.
"You two aren't going to chicken out are you? I am not going to be the only one of us to be nude?"
We both assured her not. But still did nothing to join her. She shrugged. She knew I had been naked with her many times before, Paul obviously as well, she had little to lose by being nude, even if we did back off. She reached behind her back and unclipped her bra and shrugged this along her arms. I looked, her breasts suddenly exposed, high and firm, small-ish I guess, but full and smooth and pert. I remembered them well, remembered staring at them when we were growing up and going to our local beaches and resorts. She bent quickly, holding her panties, and pulled them off her legs. She stood naked.
I looked up and down, she still looked very good, tall, slim, her ass was smooth and tight, she folded her clothes, I looked at the thick triangle of her dark pubic hair, glad she had not succumbed to the modern fashion for removing or reducing this, I told myself to stop staring, she was my sister, this was doubly inappropriate, Birgitta faced me, and Paul, utterly and gloriously nude, her tall body pale, her nipples dark and pointed, and her vivid thatch of dark brown hair above her pussy, covering it, she didn't trim or reduce at all, I could make out straighter hair between her legs, sprouting from the thick lips of her sex, I suddenly imagined Paul pushing her knees apart, touching her warm labia, kissing her damp pubic hair, licking between each row of coarse growth, sliding his tongue over her moist cunt.
Birgitta had her hands on her waist, was leaning on her hip, waiting, watching her brother, her husband, both of us still dressed.
Paul and I looked at each other. Was he waiting for me to go first? Okay. I enjoyed this part. I felt the familiar tingle of erotic excitement in my belly. I was going to be naked, in front of other people, other nude people, in front of Paul, fuck, my brother-in-law. He was going to see me nude.
I kicked off my sandals and pulled off my T-shirt, unbuttoned my light trousers and stood for a second in my tight white underwear, letting him look, if he wanted, at the shape of my soft dick, the hidden length of my stem, the small point of my tip. I wanted to wait, I always wanted to wait, as if this was a fantasy, when I would prolong this exact moment, waiting, being looked at, the tingle building to a buzz.
I bent and held my pants, and pushed them along my legs, I felt my soft penis being dragged down, then springing free, I raised a leg and stepped out of my pants, and faced him, naked. I saw him glance. Would he be reassured? I glanced. Then smiled at Birgitta. Then at Paul. My balls were being held in close by my tight scrotum, my penis was pushed outwards a little, so it was almost pointing up, I knew Paul would be reassured. My cock is pretty small when I am soft, 6, maybe 7 centimetres, quite slim, my foreskin sort of bunches up in a wrinkled hood so even the shape of my glans cannot be seen, so, he would look, and see me like this, my balls tight, small, my soft little cock a pale prong bobbling from within my own thick nest of dark pubic hair.
He looks, they both look, unable not to. I let them. Glancing at my naked sister, smiling now, feeling that sweet pulsing of pleasure in my groin, trembling into my soft cock like a faint current of electric energy.
I stood next to Birgitta, both of us facing Paul. Challenging him now I suppose with our nudity. He smiled, and shook his head, looking between us, his wife's bare body next to her brother's, both of us slim, both of our now visible pubic hair dark brown, dense, Birgitta's obscuring her soft sex, mine surrounding my protruding little dick, parting like a furry curtain either side of my tight round pouch.
Paul started to strip. His trainers, his T-shirt, his cargo shorts, he was wearing a pair of dark blue briefs, he hesitated a second, looking at both of us, before hooking in his thumbs, at the back, and yanking off his underwear. He threw them onto his little pile of clothes and stood up, nude, he faced us. I looked. And looked.
His body was strong, firm, like he worked out, and hairy, thick brown blonde hair covering his chest, his belly, building to the thicker denser growth over his pubis, framing his now exposed penis. We were all now naked, extending this delicious moment of mutual exposure, all looking at each other. Paul letting us, his wife, me. We couldn't have remained still for longer than a few seconds, it felt like minutes, all glancing, feeling each other's eyes on us. I looked at Paul. He looked good. Strong, broad, masculine, tight and lean. His pubic bush was as thick as my own, thicker possibly, lighter in colour, and his cock. Fuck. I had to stop myself from staring at Paul's suddenly bare penis.
Paul's cock was quite large. He turned to face me, it swung heavily in front of his also large balls. God he had a big dick, his penis was long, and thick, and he was circumcised, which I know it pretty common in Australia, I could see his smooth pink glans, thicker than his fleshy shaft, prominent at the top of it, soft and shiny, his tender ridge and small raised slit in clear sight.
