Shirley takes an early morning swim.
My name is Shirley and at the time I had been a widow for nearly eighteen months. David and I had enjoyed almost 45 years of a somewhat unconventional marriage. I didn't sleep with other men, I slept with my David. My David didn't sleep with other women, he slept with me. That which we did, jointly and severally, whilst we were awake was another matter entirely.
Just before My David passed he told me that I should continue to enjoy myself and that he would be with me every step of the way. It took me a while to get things organised but finally I'm on my way, retracing the routes we enjoyed together. Hopefully rediscovering the pleasures we had enjoyed en route. I am now back in France with our camper van, remembering the past and looking for new adventures. My David is with me.
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I'd got used to early mornings over the previous eighteen months. With no David in bed beside me I found little point in staying in bed longer than tiredness required. Once in France I was up early to greet the new day and looked forward to the possibilities it brought.
The previous afternoon I'd spent the day with Paul on the beach, naked. I'd been very seriously and extremely well fucked before returning to my Camper-van. I slept like a log and awoke fully refreshed and ready for the new day a good two hours before the bakers van would be at the camp site opposite the Aire. I did exactly what I would have done had my David been with me.
Pulling on a light, short dress and my warm fleece I grabbed a towel and headed for the beach.
For those not familiar with the English Channel I'll tell you now, it's cold, bloody cold at all times of the year. With the North Atlantic at one end and the North Sea at the other it has little chance to be anything else. Who needs a cold shower to get the blood circulating in the mornings when a short stroll through the dunes will lead you to an ice bath. I'm joking, but only a little.
I didn't bother to walk to the 'Clothing optional' section of the beach, I was the only one mad enough to be out and about at that time of the day. I headed straight down the beach to the tide line, shucked off my fleece, quickly followed by my little dress. Dropping my towel on top of the small pile I skipped the few yards down to the water and ran in before I lost my nerve. With high steps I was soon far enough in to duck down and get my shoulders under the water before the cold hit me too hard. Once in and covered it wasn't so bad and I rubbed my hands vigorously over my naked body to dislodge the air bubbles that would make me shiver.
With a poor imitation of the breast stroke mixed with the doggy paddle I swam along parallel to the beach for a few minutes before turning around and swimming back. I swam back and forth for about ten minutes getting the blood circulating energetically. The hardest part was getting out of the water. At just after six in the morning the sun is not very warm. I swam back and forth a couple of times more steeling myself for a rapid exit and the sudden chill. I crept towards the shore on my hands trying to keep my shoulders beneath the water for as long as possible before standing up and rushing to my towel. I rose up swiftly ready for the dash.
"Bonjour!" came a voice from my right.
I looked to my right, where had he come from?
"Bonjour," I replied standing straight up and looking at him.
Not bad looking. About my own age, give or take and a very wet Labrador at his heels. I strolled over to my pile of clothes and picked up the towel. I didn't bother to wrap it around me to cover my nakedness, he'd seen it all anyway. I started to dry myself off. He stopped to watch. I didn't object.
"A good way to wake up in the morning," he observed in perfect English, "you must be a hardy soul?"
"You're English?"
"Yes, we're in the camp site for the night. Early riser, like yourself so I get to take Sandy here for her morning walk before everybody is up and about. Lovely time of day I always think."
No mention of a wife directly? 'We're in the camp site', We being... me and the wife or me and the dog? I didn't feel a need to dry myself any quicker nor slower for that matter. He didn't seem too bothered about getting on with Sandy's exercise either.
"On your way out or on your way back?"
The standard question when meeting fellow Brits in the vicinity of the Channel ports.
I swung the end of the towel over my shoulder, grabbed it in the other hand and energetically dried my back beneficially making my tits swing hopefully.
"On our way home unfortunately, need to be on the road by 7:30 latest. Morning ferry from Dieppe to Newhaven."
So many little snippets of information in a couple of sentences. Still no mention of wife but time constraints. Not available but interested? I reached down to dry between my legs, spreading them wide and being very careful. I smiled at him encouragingly.
"Wouldn't want to make you miss the boat," I teased, "have a safe journey."
"I always find that when I dry my back like that the bit between my shoulder blades somehow always gets missed. Would you like me to check yours is dry?"
"Would you mind?"
I stepped closer to him holding out my towel. Sandy wandered off into the shallows. I turned my back toward him. Taking the towel he carefully dabbed it between my shoulders.
"You have a very beautiful body," he whispered in my ear, "pity we're homeward bound, another time maybe?"
He moved the towel down my back until his hands were on my bottom. I pressed eagerly against them.
