A naked 11 year old girl ran past, giggling.
"Down boy, she's too young" said Sandie
"Relax, I've nearly got it under control now"
Jerry and Sandie were walking through the dunes to the beach, a boy, maybe 12 or 13, strode past he was just starting to sprout some hair on his balls. Apparently unselfconscious, but Jerry noticed he gave Sandie the once over. Apparently even relaxed, confident nudists can take in a beautiful body when they see one. He wondered if the boy would head to the nearest toilet now to knock one out. Then he consciously thought of something else before his penis started to rise again.
Earlier that morning they had put the plan into action.
"You two off somewhere nice?" his mum had said.
"Going to Bondara, seems like a nice day for a swim"
"Take some sun cream". Oh yes, definitely.
Even earlier, at school the previous week they had been joking and joshing with friends when the subject of dares came up. No-one knew why or how. Mandy was dared to steal a bra with nipple holes, crotchless pants and a dildo from "De Riere"; odd how few people in their little town understood the joke. Jack (being the swottiest swot in swot city) was dared to get 0% in the spot quiz – name the capital of France = Paris, Texas. Which weighs more, a pound of feathers or a pound of lead = feathers. He did and was sent to the Principle who sent him to the counsellor, who suggested they call his parents, who asked if he'd taken drugs and searched his room – finding a 1963 collectors' item copy of Playboy, a cigarette paper (he'd been making a comb kazoo for his nephew a week before), and some caffeine tablets (for studying late); his Dad insisted on checking the Playboy thoroughly. Ironical really, he kept his stash behind the cistern in the bathroom as Jack already knew (equally thoroughly), his own copy was bought as an investment, and had remained in its wrapper until his Dad removed it. Mary-Anne was dared to say 'fucking cunt' at home; she came from the most religious family (ones who made Plymouth Brethren look positively liberal, she had only been allowed to attend the school because she needed the exams to go to the theological college. She rapidly discovered there was more to life than drab clothes and bible study, but she hid it well at home) in the town; they would be horrified (they were!), but then decided she couldn't know what the words meant (religious and naïve apparently). And Jerry and Sandie were dared to go to Bondara Nudist Beach. The nudist beach is beyond the normal holiday beach (Bondara Beach For All The Family so the tourist posters proclaimed), clear signs indicate where it starts; 'normal' families stay at the town end with the ice-creams and life-guards (you don't get nude life-guards apparently, anyone who has watched re-runs of Baywatch will understand why). There is plenty of room for all, the beach goes on for ever.
When the beach opened 10 years ago the local 'do-gooders, busy-bodies and party-poopers association' had been up in arms. Apparently nudism would lead to low morals, rapes, paedophilia, drugs, and parking offences (Mr Jackson thought parking offences the worst – he lived beside the Kwikky-mart and hated people parking outside his house). 10 years later, with the small town booming from the increased tourism, with no, repeat NO, cases of paedophilia, rape, or nudes walking down Main Street, everybody was happy (except Mr Jackson – he was still convinced parking offences had gone up). Even some of the locals had tried it. The nudists were three types and the beach was semi-officially divided accordingly: families (who generally believed in nudism for philosophical reasons), single women (who generally wanted an all over tan) and couples (who generally wanted ... well you know). Although you could walk along the 'normal' beach for 3 miles to get to the nudist part, the car park was nearby and the changing rooms were there, and the big signs saying 'No Single Men, Please'. The 'please' was superfluous, the organisers weren't asking, they were telling. The first year there had been some trouble with men/boys trying to get in and see a bit of tit or bum; but that had been stamped out with ease. Men can't run well with a hardon so the organisers had easily rounded up these kids and marched them out. Then the beach had settled down to be first section : families (any single boys trying to walk along the beach would have to face fathers with beer guts and tattoos (even some bikers were nudists) and worse, a wall of matronly nudes protecting their girls. A 16 year old wouldn't get far, and would get an eyeful of floppy tit and floppier bottom which would scar his mind for life. Nudism in the family section wasn't about looking like Emma Watson, Cameron Diaz, Hugh Jackman or even Vladamir Putin on a good day, it was about being free to the air.
Section two was the single women, they tended to come in pairs or threesomes, and would all lie on their fronts the first time until they were nearly toasted before giggling slightly and turning over to show their shaved (or, rarely, unshaved) 'front bums' as they would demurely call them. Their perky breasts would point to the sky even as they lay on their backs. And that first visit they would often go home with embarrassing sun burn on places that had never seen the sun before. A sunburnt nipple was difficult to treat, a sunburnt pair of labia was agony for a day or two. There was a warning leaflet which was quite graphic in its descriptions (the organisers were matter-of-fact about body parts, the warning about using the toilet with a sunburnt anus was one to make everybody cross their legs), but people often ignored it, the first time.
It was true that sometimes family dads would take a turn round the beach and remember when their wives looked like that and they didn't have to play hunt the cunt in the layers of flesh, but that was no different to businessmen ogling the secretaries. When everybody is nude it somehow becomes less sexual.
Section three was more spread out, these were the couples and whilst some lay on the beach and went swimming, many went into the dunes, found a private spot and played more active, horizontal games than the families with their volley ball and baseball and cricket (this part of the state had close connections to England and had fielded a team in the 'village cricket 2012 – world series' in Nether Wallop, England).
Jerry and Sandie had been together since nursery. They had arrived on the same day, cried in the same corner for their mums, played hospitals with the dolls, played cowboys and 'native americans' with the dolls and been the token boy/girl (respectively) at each other's parties until they were about 11 (when the others caught up). At 10 Jerry had seen Sandie's knickers, at 11 she had seen his penis and at 12 he had seen her breasts (more like large pimples). They had never had sex, never seen each other naked since puberty had fully set in; and continued, at 17, to attend the same church and church youth group. That isn't to say Jerry hadn't fondled Sandie's bottom (over the clothes), of course he had. And that isn't to say Sandie hadn't had a thrill when she realised that kissing Jerry with her mouth open was making the 'thing in his pocket' get bigger and harder against her groin. They were shocked at their dare. But they couldn't turn it down, the others were all up for theirs. The group trusted each other, though Mandy showed the bra and pants (and the dildo had been unwrapped! She never explained why) she had stolen, she hadn't needed to, Jack couldn't hide his dare if he'd wanted to, Mary-Anne could only explain what had happened at home. They all believed, and she was nearly pulled out of school as a result of it (the school had to apologise and instigated a – brief – campaign against bad language). So Jerry and Sandie could have lied about going, but everybody knew they wouldn't, the friendship was too strong to lie to each other. And, yes, it's true, the two of them each secretly was looking forward to seeing the other naked, even whilst going red at the thought of stripping off themselves.
They'd cycled out the 3 miles to the tourist beach, established a few normal things to talk about when they got home, - the 'safe swimming flag' was up, the Mr Whippy ice-cream van was in the car park, Officer Landrush was in the carpark drinking tea (he was a by-word for lazy, waste of space. It was said that he had never arrested anybody in his life, except for a rogue tortoise that he caught after a 3 hour chase). Then they cycled on, there was a cycle path in the dunes so there was no chance of being seen by a passing neighbour on the road. At the entrance they signed in and went into one of the changing rooms.
"Bit of a misnomer isn't it?"
"What?" replied Sandie
"Changing room – we aren't going to get changed, just undressed"
"Well do it then, stop putting it off."
Of course they turned away from each other, packed their beach bags with their clothes, put their pumps back on their feet (footwear was allowed) and of course as soon as he turned round and saw her bottom (she was bending over her bag, the view was enough to turn a priest!) he got a massive hardon.
"Hang on" he said turning back "I've forgotten something"
It went down and he took a deep breath, turned round ... to see a full frontal of a sexy, lithe, 17 year-old female sex bomb body. She had perfect breasts (what was he comparing them to? He had only seen Lindy-Ann's (cousin) from a long way off three years ago), and a lovely partially shaved cunt. He wanted to use a different word, but anything else seemed too biological, yet cunt seemed too sexual, too objectifying. But it was lovely, and he had a massive boner.
.... There is more of this story ...