The following events actually happened. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
It was summer, back when my summers were times for adventure and wanderlust. I decided to visit my friend John who was living in Athens writing for an English-language newspaper. We were to spend a week on Skopelos, a sleepy Greek isle in the Sporades island group, famous for its wine. John and I were both single guys in our 20's who were wine-drinking buddies from college who still liked to hang out together.
John and I were sharing a cheap hotel room overlooking the bay on the north of the island. The white stucco houses and acqua blue water recalled the vivid photographs one sees on travel calendars. We decided to charter a boat to get to one of the isolated beaches on an off-shore islet we'd read about.
On the wharf, we learned that we weren't the only passengers on the boat. A couple, a 40-ish man and a 20-something woman were also going to the same island. We didn't mind, especially when we got a look at the woman. She was drop dead gorgeous.
We boarded the 12-foot boat and made our way out of the harbor, watching the tiny Greek town recede from view. Gliding across the serene blue water, we introduced ourselves. The couple, Hans and Brigitte, were from the Netherlands. He was a photographer and she was a model. Hans was a bit heavy set and had a ready smile. Brigitte had a beautiful face, with a mane of light brown hair that graced her shoulders. She didn't talk much but was friendly. I suspected she wasn't as proficient in English as Hans.
My friend John was a surfer, from Southern California, and had the blond good looks that fit the stereotype. He was tall and strapping, with the broad shoulders that come from all that paddling. I was a swarthy, Italian-looking guy from New York, with brown curly hair and brown eyes.
After twenty minutes or so we reached the islet, a vast expanse of white sand and no people. Not one. Not a hut or a store for as far as the eye could see. We shouted to the boat driver and pointed at our watches to pick up us at 4. He seemed to understand and turned the speedboat to return to whence he came.
We had only a knapsack with our towels and some food we'd bought at a shop near the wharf. Since the beach was perfectly pristine where we landed, we just dropped our things there. I wondered if Hans and Brigitte would move down the beach to find their own spot, but they didn't. They dropped their things near ours.
I pulled off my t-shirt, kicked off my flip flops, and lay on the hot sand. It was fine and white, not the coarse off-white sand you find on American beaches. As I felt the heat of the late-morning sun bake my back, I glanced over to Hans and Brigitte a few paces away.
Brigitte was slipping out of her short-shorts, giving her butt a wiggle to get the fabric down her legs. Her back was to me and when I saw the thong she was wearing my mouth almost fell open. Her ass was as close to perfect as any I had seen. Nary a blemish to be found.
Staring at her, a bit dumbstruck, I watched as she started to unbutton her blouse. When she turned to drop it in her bag, I saw her bare breasts. They were beautiful, high-sitting and firm, with delicate pink nipples. I remember thinking "is she going to put on a top? Wait, is she going to go topless? Yes!" I was young and horny and the idea of spending the day watching a topless model on a secluded beach was like a fantasy come true.
She arched her back and stretched with her elbows up in air, twisting her body from side to side. It was too much. Too good to be true. Laying on my stomach in the sand, I could feel my dick harden and grow. Shit, not I won't be able to stand up. Great. I guess I'll just have to lay here watching.
After cueing John to the happenings, I rested my head on my arms and watched her from behind my sunglasses. She was applying lotion now, on her long, graceful legs and downy arms, her stomach and her sides. Finally, she reached her breasts, rubbing the lotion along the sides, underneath, with special care to cover the nipples. Ah, to be those hands right now.
She got Hans to add lotion to her back and then she waded out to the water. She walked slightly sway backed with her fingertips gently touching the velvety water. Her eyes were closed as if to feel every sensation -- the cool water, the caress of the ocean breeze on her skin, the warmth of the sun on her face. I was transfixed.
She turned and called to Hans in Dutch. I guessed she was asking himm to join her. She was splashing now, flicking drops of water onto her chest. The cool water made her skin rise in goose pimples. It made her nipples pert and hard. She spun in a little pirouette like a dancer on an antique music box. My erection was complete.
I could tell John was as mesmerized by all this as I was. He was lying on his back, raised on his elbows and watched appraisingly from behind his shades. I could see he had a hard on and he did nothing to hide it. John had the body of a swimsuit model. All that swimming, I guess. I had no insecurities about my looks, but John was in a class by himself. And he knew it.
Before long, John waded out into the water and lowered himself in up to his neck. She smiled at him, making no attempt to cover her breasts. She was very free and comfortable with her nudity, obviously. John chatted her up, made her laugh, flirted. He always had the gift with women. I was more the shy, reserved type.
Soon, Hans joined them and there they were, the three of them standing in a circle, chatting like a group of neighbors at a barbeque, except one of the neighbors was a fashion model wearing nothing but a thong. Otherwise, just a regular chat. I decided to join them and I hurriedly made my way into the water and submerged myself to avoid being seen with a raging hard-on.
Once in the group, I could really see Brigitte up close. My God, she was gorgeous! She had the perfect body, exquisite breasts, a flawless ass. And the best part about it was she was so free and open about it. There was an innocence that was as sexy as the physical attributes themselves.
We were talking about travel, where we'd been, what we'd seen. She was splashing water onto her shoulders and letting it drip down over her breasts. My hard on pressed against my swim suit and wouldn't let up. I wanted more than anything to go au naturel and let my hard cock be enveloped by the velvety ocean. Alas, I wasn't as free as Brigitte.
I decided to go for a swim, parallel to the beach, and before long the thoughts of Brigitte were replaced by the steady rhythm of my freestyle stroke. My erection subsided by the time I returned and I was able to walk back to our spot on the beach without embarassment. John was reading his book now and Hans and Brigitte were sunbathing on their towels. She was laying on her back, naturally, and her breasts were flattend on her chest, perfectly shaped, her skin glistening. What a world!
I spent most of that day staring at Brigitte, to be honest. Oh, we threw a frisbee, and I read my book too, but whenever I got a chance, I feasted on the sight of her phenomenal body. I had spent a majority of that day in a state of sexual arousal. I was a horny guy anyway, but this was too much.
At the end of the afternoon, after the boatman came to pick us up, Hans asked if we wanted to have dinner together. Absolutely! So we decided to meet them at their hotel in a couple of hours. We bade our farewells and parted on the wharf.
Back at our hotel, John was non-plussed. "What a fox!" he kept saying. "She is SO hot. Did you see her tits?" I agreed and we shared a beer on our balcony recapping the day.
Finally, at seven, it was time to meet Hans and Brigitte. We arrived at their hotel but didn't see them in the lobby. After waiting a bit, we decided to call their room. Hans answered. "Come up to 103" he said buoyantly. So we did.
