Stan
We'd come for the sea and the shore and the cocktails and the canapes, yes. But mostly we'd come for the thrill of our first jaunt together on a nude-only beach. The thought of being completely exposed thrilled us both and intimidated each of us a little, but we'd committed to this bit of added spice in the hopes of kicking new tinder on the bonfire of our many years of happy marriage.
The boat ride out to Es Cavalier was fun. Salty spray bounced from the bow with every wave and we stood in it and got thoroughly spritzed with it. Rebecca slipped off her top playfully and her thick nipples rode high and proud on her chest in the salty early morning breeze. I smiled and took in the glorious view of her silhouetted against the Mediterranean sun. She held my hand and her hat against the breeze and smiled back contentedly. It wasn't until we got to the all-nude beach and we both had to shed the rest of our clothes that she got a little apprehensive.
Once ashore at the nude beach she stripped like a trooper, nonplussed by some indifferent attention from the crowd; not sure whether to be relieved by the natural acceptance of nudity by the mostly European crowd or self-conscious (or excited) by the odd lewd stare. Her nipples were still delightfully perky, and I thought I could clearly detect the musky scent of her arousal underneath the coconut and floral scents of her sunscreen.
We headed up the strand and she shuffled along half a pace behind me as we sought a quieter part of the beach. Her black curly hair - now streaked with some silver from a mix of Mediterranean sun and life experience - floated gently on the breeze and accentuated her smooth neck and firm shoulders. Her tits jiggled delightfully as we walked, making her chest tattoo ripple and undulate suggestively.