It was not planned.
We had never even discussed the possibility.
Obviously we had talked about using that kind of beach. You do not just happen to end up on a naturist beach, not even in the south of France. There are maybe fifteen of them, scattered around the Mediterranean coast, but that is not so many that you are likely to come across one just by chance.
I had used this beach before. In fact I had been using naturist beaches whenever I had the opportunity for over twenty years.
I will be honest. I enjoy looking, and I enjoy being seen. I enjoy the freedom of not having to wear beach shorts, and swimming naked is just a whole different experience, but I used to use naturist beaches mainly because I liked seeing women naked, and I also liked the looks that I received.
Just the same, since meeting Rebecca, I had not been on a naturist beach. She had never been on one, although she was used to sunbathing topless when she had the opportunity, and she admitted that she liked the looks she got as well. Given that her breasts are rather fuller than her frame would suggest, and are gravity defying, with ski slope upper curves right to her nipple tips, and three inch wide areoles, I could imagine that she received plenty of looks.
So going naked for me was just what I had done before we met, and for Rebecca it was just one step further, leaving off her bikini bottom as well as the top, and revealing the pouting labia that protrude almost an inch below her hairless pubis.
I hope it does not come across as arrogant to say that we were one of the better looking couples on the beach. French naturist beaches are not filled with female models and male hunks so the competition is not that strong. Anyone and everyone is welcome, regardless of their body shape. You do get some really stunning bodies there, but you also get average, too skinny, overweight, and I have even seen an amputee.
Rebecca and I both keep in shape. We use the gym, and do some running, although Rebecca runs a little less than I do because of the problem that she has with mammary control. Even with a sports bra, she is conscious that her breasts move more than is good for their long term shapeliness. At thirty, she has no worries, but she wants them to look good when she is forty, and at fifty, and sixty, and maybe even beyond that, so she takes care.
Keeping in shape means that she is slim in the right places, as well as having curves where she should. For me, it means that I have reasonable muscular definition, with a flat stomach that may not be quite six cans of coke, but still looks pretty firm, pecs that stand proud, and shoulders that add a couple of inches of width to my frame.
Having given you an idea of Rebeca's assets, I can say with a touch of false modesty, that my own asset gets its share of glances from women who would like to try it out for size, and from guys who wish they could compete. So when I say that we were one of the better looking couples on the beach, I really am just stating a fact. Nothing more.
It might be worth describing the beach itself, without giving away which beach this was. It is accessed by a side road heading south from the route into a resort. The side road leads to wide open parking areas, from which you walk through some dunes to reach the beach itself. There are a couple of naturist camp sites on one side of the track, with their own direct access to the beach. On the other side, the dunes, and the beach, stretch for around a kilometre to a river outlet, which means all that area is naturist, although fewer people walk that far.
Our first couple of days, we stayed around the area you get to as soon as you walk from track onto sand. Most people do. That is not only where it is busiest but it is also where the life-guard is. You get to see more people there, and more people look you over.
Initially, Rebecca was nervous about getting completely naked with other people around for the first time ever, but she had dressed to make sure she could not have any last minute change of mind. In the car, she had worn a white, light cotton, kimono style beach wrap, and nothing else. You cannot stay in a beach wrap on a naturist beach, at least not after your towels are spread out on the sand, and when you are about to lie down. You just have to go naked.
Rebecca took off the beach wrap, rolled it up, and put it in our beach bag, her breasts pendulous as she bent over the bag, and a guy giving a very direct look at her nether regions from his beach towel only a few yards behind her.
The guy was in his sixties, and a little overweight, but his interest in Rebecca's ass and her protruding labia was all too obvious. It was a case of looking without any hope of touching, let alone penetrating, but I could tell he would be glancing our way as often as he thought he could get away with.
As any naturist will tell you, naturism is not about sex. Erections are frowned on. The couples who enjoy lazing naked tend not to be swingers. Some might be, but they do it somewhere else. And it is not just couples. Families use naturist beaches in France, and the kids dig holes in the sand, or build sand-castles, and people hit balls back and forwards with wooden bats, and everyone has a good time.
Anyone who is interested in sex does not stay on the busy part of a naturist beach. They go away from the crowd, and if there are dunes, they go into the dunes.
It was our third day when we went into the dunes.
The night before we had been to a restaurant in a nearby town, and there had been some kind of celebration in the square with a live band and people dancing, so we had stayed around until late before going back to the tented room we were staying in. Airbnb has certainly made holiday accommodation a lot cheaper.
The point of explaining about the celebration was that we had both had more to drink than usual, and it was late when we got back and stripped for bed, and we had just cuddled together and slept, so on the beach the next day, we were both feeling randy, and my cock was, if not erect, then at least thicker and an inch longer than in its dormant state.
Having agreed to head for the dunes, and see what we could get away with there, we picked up our towels and I took the beach bag, and we strolled, hand in hand, heading south, towards the river inlet, until instead of people being four rows deep and only metres apart, there was someone only every twenty metres or so, the people who wanted quiet, and preferred to have space to themselves.
We veered off onto the soft sand that was a good thirty meters wide, heading for a cleft in the dunes, and we walked through and round to the left, up a slight slope, but staying between the mounds of sand with the couch grass that bound them to retain their shape. Taking a right, we found a wider valley surrounded by dunes, and we spread out our towels.
Rebecca knows the secret of giving head. It is not the way that she kisses or sucks my cock that makes her technique so good. It is the way she does everything else, using her hands, fingers, mouth and tongue, between my legs, over my stomach, around the base of my cock, under my balls, and occasionally reaching for my nipples, touching, teasing and playing with them as she uses her mouth much lower down.
Of course she also runs her tongue along the length of my shaft, or her lips, and will lick or kiss the head, and use her tongue to probe around the frenum, where it is most sensitive. Once my cock is hard, and angled at forty five degrees pointing above my head, she will pull it back with her fingers at the base, until it is at the same angle, but pointing towards where she kneels between my legs, and she will bend forward and take as much of it as deep into her mouth as she can.
She never does deep throat. She gags too easily. But then she is not trying to make me come. She is teasing. She is making it last for as long as she can. I have allowed her to tie my wrists to our bedhead and she has spent over an hour torturing me so blissfully, keeping me on the edge, but backing away when she sensed that I might explode, returning to caressing and stroking my legs and stomach, leaving my cock until the sensations subsided to allow her to continue.
There was no bedhead in the sand dunes, but I was lying splayed as if there were, Rebecca was kneeling between my legs, her butt in the air, my cock a bar of iron, her breasts suspended between her torso and my thighs, her nipples grazing my skin, and she was licking the length of my cock from my balls to the swollen head, when the guy appeared.
He came from behind Rebecca, with the sun behind him, so that it was his outline that I saw. He stopped at a discrete distance, realising what he had chanced to find, watching the tableau.
My first instinct was amusement.
I really did not care that someone had noticed us, and was watching as Rebecca sucked my cock. I wondered how Rebecca would have reacted had she realised, and it amused me that she was carrying on oblivious. It was also a turn on in its own right, having a guy watching her give me head.
Like I said, the sun was behind the guy, and it was high and strong, and I had been closing my eyes against it while Rebecca did her thing. With my eyes closed, it was like wearing a blindfold, only bright red through my eyelids. With them open, I was squinting against the sun, and blinded by its brilliance. I had to close my eyes again.
Next time I opened them, the guy was closer, or at least I thought he was. It was difficult to be sure. The second time I opened my eyes again, having rested them against the sun, I was more certain. He was definitely closer.
I guess I assumed that at some stage he would feel that he was close enough. He would maybe watch a while longer, or wait and see if Rebecca moved up my body to squat over my cock and guide it between those beautiful butterfly lips of hers and into what I knew would be wet, inviting cunt. Rebecca gets wet so easily.
So I relaxed. Like I said, being watched was something of a turn on. If Rebecca did decide she wanted to ride me, and the guy was still there, watching, all the more of a turn on, especially knowing that she still did not realise that we were being watched. I looked forward to telling her later.
I closed my eyes again, hoping that she would not take too long with her mouth and tongue, and would want my cock inside her soon.
It may seem strange, but at that stage I still had not really seen the guy. I mean I had seen the outline of his body, but when I could see all of the guy, he was too far away to make out his face, and as he came closer, only a couple of metres behind my wife, looking up against the sun meant that his face was in shadow, and although I could tell that his hair was close cut, I could not tell you much more about how he looked.
I waited for Rebecca to make her move.
Instead, she stopped. Just for a few short seconds, but she stopped. For those few seconds her mouth left my cock, and all I was aware of was her breasts against my legs and her hands on either side of my body, supporting her weight. Then I felt her tongue, probing around the rim of my cock head.
Curious as to what had made her stop, I opened my eyes, just partially, to keep the sun from blinding me with its brightness.
The guy was even closer.
I mean he was close.
I mean he was right behind Rebecca, and he was no longer standing. He was on his knees.
