I helped her out of her dress, slipped her panties down her thighs, and lifted her bra off her shoulders. She didn't need my help, of course, but it was part of the ritual, part of what I enjoyed at the beach, helping her get naked. When she was totally nude, I applied sunscreen over every part of her, every crease, every soft round mound, and every hidden curve. When she was naked and protected from the sun, we spread out the towels, put down the beach chairs, and settled on the sand.
As he walked up from the water, I gasped. I had never seen anything like it. Swinging free and flaccid between his thighs was the biggest sexual organ I had ever laid eyes on, not that I made a habit of noticing other men's cocks, but it was unavoidable. He was just that big.
My wife sat with her mouth open, obviously seeing the same wonder of the world I just had. I looked over at her and she was spellbound, gazing at the obvious king of the beach, admiring an organ the size of a salmi.
"Wow," she finally said as if she was unaware that she had spoken. She held her book in front of her face, but she was clearly looking over the top of the pages. When he sat down she looked down at her book as if surprised it was still there. A few moments later she turned over, as if she wanted private thoughts without showing the look on her face.
We'd been coming to the nude beach for just over a year, and there had never been anything on the beach quite like it. Figures went through my mind as I estimated its possible length. Eight, nine, ten maybe, but it was eye catching and impossible to miss. I found myself thinking just how long would it be erect. A foot maybe. Finally, unable to keep from saying anything, I asked Claire if she had "seen that?"
"What?" she asked without looking up, but clearly not reading her book, as if she couldn't stop thinking about what she had just witnessed.
"The guy next to us," I said.
"Of course," she said before turning to look at me. Her smile was wide and clearly one of admiration. "That's Randy," she said with the same lecherous smile.
"You know him?" I asked.
"Well, not really know.," she said looking over at me from behind her glasses, "but the girls on the beach know about Randy. He is kind of... famous, you might say. I played frisbee with him once."
"I am surprised you were able to concentrate on the frisbee," I said.
"I couldn't," she said. "Couldn't keep my eyes off of it."
"It?" I asked.
"His 'gift', you know. It," she repeated. "It is beautiful."
"I didn't know you noticed those kind of things," I said.
"Usually I don't," she said, "but.... You know, it's so... impressive. It makes women swoon," she said.
"Does it make you swoon?" I asked, incredulous that she would admit that.
"It makes me dizzy," she said. "I think of it, we'll, you know."
"You think about what it would feel like.... in you?" I asked unable to believe what I was hearing.
