The Pearls of the Mediterranean


Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Magic, Horror, Caution, Nudism, .

Desc: Horror Sex Story: A group of British lads are shown a hidden beach during a vacation to an island nudist colony. The naked girls they find seem absolutely gorgeous, but they harbour a dark secret...

"It'll be wrinkled old grannies with saggy tits and fat Germans with hairy beer guts," Maddock said.

"It's one of the top nudist beaches in the Mediterranean. It's got to be good," Stevie S. said.

"I've seen the people that go to the top European nudist resorts. I've watched Eurotrash," Maddock countered.

"It won't be like that," Stevie S. responded. "It won't all be like that," he hastily amended. "There'll be tons of honeys. Just picture it. Row upon row of naked breasts lying in the sun, their nubile owners waiting for hunks of studliness like ourselves to come along and rub sun scream all over their naked bodies. It's going to be mint."

Stevie S. was right about the rows of naked breasts, Brent Underwood thought, although their owners couldn't really be described as nubile. Or even female in some cases.

"Eww," Wilson said as they got out of the rental Jeep "Nasty."

"Told you," Maddock said. "Saggy grannies and fat Germans."

Stevie S. tried to remain enthusiastic. "Hold on. We're not looking hard enough." He looked up and down the beach, searching for anyone that might be in their twenties, or under forty. "Just a minute," he said. "Just a minute."

"We're totally snookered," Brent said.

And they were stuck here for the week, he thought.

"Stevie S. you muppet!" Wilson said. "We could be in Ibiza banging some Essex slappers."

"Ibiza's past it," Stevie S. retorted. "The only people that still go there are the sad wankers in their thirties trying to pretend it's still 1999. You gotta go off the beaten track to find the cool places nowadays."

"The old farts go off the beaten track to look for a bit of peace and quiet, you tool," Maddock said.

"That's the last time you pick the holiday destination," Wilson said.

"Seconded," Brent added.

"Give it a chance," Stevie S. said. "It's still early."

"Have you seen it out there?" Maddock said. "David Attenborough's going to show up any minute with a BBC film crew to shoot The Life and Times of the Mediterranean Walrus."

Stevie S. looked completely punctured. This had been his big idea. He'd gone on and on about it for the past month and now they'd got here it looked like they'd made an enormous mistake.

"This can't be the only beach on the island," Brent said, throwing out a lifeline. "Maybe there's another one where the young crowd hang out."

"Yeah, that's it," Stevie S. said, snapping his fingers. "Of course. We should ask around to find out where it is."

The four of them left the rental Jeep on the rough gravel car park and headed towards the beach. The midday sun was scorching. Even with sunglasses on the glare was bright enough to force Brent to squint. A brown lizard, disturbed by their crunching footsteps, scuttled off into the brown undergrowth.

A middle-aged couple were standing next to their car. Brent couldn't tell if they'd just arrived or were about to leave. Neither was wearing any clothes. The man was short and scrawny. There wasn't anything left of his hair apart from a few wispy tufts behind the ears. The woman was around the same height, but portly to the point of being overweight. Without clothes she resembled a plate of wobbly pink jelly.

"Hello," Maddock said, immediately slipping into his charming bastard routine.

"Oh hello," the man said, turning to face them. "How can I help you, gents?"

He was English, just like them. From the home counties, Brent reckoned by the accent. The only item of clothing he wore was a pair of round spectacles. The lenses were so thick his eyes seemed to expand to fill them.

"We're looking for a nudist beach," Maddock said.

"Well you've found it," the man replied. He put his hands on his hips, proud of his nakedness even though he looked like the last scrawniest joint of meat left on the butcher's...

Brent looked down.

Jesus fuck. That was some schlong.

"Where are my manners," the man said. "I'm Ron and this is Gale Anne." He offered his hand.

Brent didn't take it on account of he was still gawping at the monster hanging between the other man's legs. It was enormous. It was like an elephant's trunk sticking out of his crotch. How the fuck did a scrawny little bloke end up with a monster dick like that?

"Hi Ron and Gale Anne," Maddock said. He didn't take the other man's hand, or offer their names either.

"So where you gents from, London?" Ron asked.

"New Zealand," Maddock lied.

Ron looked a little puzzled, probably because Maddock sounded about as Kiwi as a plate of fish and chips. His wife rallied for him.

"So when are you taking those clothes off and joining in the fun?" she asked. Her boobs wobbled in opposing orbits to the rolls of flab around her stomach. "Come on. Don't be shy."

"Maybe later," Maddock said.

"Actually, we were wondering if there were other beaches on the island," Wilson said. "Ones where we might find people more our own age."

"I don't know to be honest," Ron replied. "This is the main beach, but I suppose there could be others."

"Oh oh!" Gale Anne interrupted, her piles of fat wobbling with excitement. "José might know. He lives on the island. He's a real sweetie," she added, looking at them, "Can you go look for him darling, I think I saw him by the bar earlier."

"No problem. I'll be right back honey dumpling."

"I understand," Gale Anne winked at them after Ron had left.

"Understand?" Maddock arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, you want to find somewhere a little bit more private on your first visit. It's perfectly understandable."

Maddock listened to her, amusement glinting in his eyes.

"I was terrified the first time," Gale Anne confessed. "Those inhibitions are a hard thing to shake off."

"Really, I'd never have guessed," Maddock said.

"Well, you only have to look at me," Gale Anne continued. "My body isn't going to win any beauty prizes."

"No, it's not," Maddock said.

"But it doesn't matter. We're all different sizes and shapes. The important thing is you have to be proud of your body and not be afraid to show it to the world. Like me."

She gave them a twirl. It was indeed hideous. Brent suspected the rolls of her flesh would still be in motion an hour from now.

"That's good," Maddock said. "I'm glad you're proud of your body. Someone has to be."

Oof. That was nasty, Brent thought. Maddock could really be an asshole sometimes. Stevie S. stifled a giggle behind him. Maddock stood there smiling as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Gale Anne paused. She'd caught what he'd meant. She had that peculiar expression common to most Middle Englanders when they know they've been insulted straight to their face, but are too polite to know how to respond. She looked a little like a blancmange after being dropped from a fourth floor window.

Ron chose that moment to return with a heavily tanned islander.

"Hi gents. You're in luck. José says there's a beach you might like not far from his house. He'll show you if you give him a lift back."

It's not far," José said in heavily accented English. He smiled, revealing a row of perfect white teeth.

Now this was a smooth bastard, Brent thought. It was sweltering hot, but unlike everyone else, José was wearing a fancy white suit. His white shirt was unbuttoned to halfway down, revealing a triangle of hairy chest. His jet-black hair was slicked back against his scalp. Even though the sun was a burning yellow disc above them, not so much as a single bead of perspiration marked José's forehead.

Yeah, a real ladies bastard, Brent thought. That was perfect. It meant he'd know where to find all the hot chicks.

"Lead on Pedro," Maddock said motioning him in the direction of the Jeep "Let's bust the hell out of this flab farm."

It was a suitable moment to leave. Ron had just noticed his wife was upset enough to be on the verge of bursting into tears.

"You sure this is the right way Pedro?" Maddock asked after they'd been driving down back roads for the past ten minutes.

José was sitting on the back seat between Brent and Stevie S ... Despite a broad smile, he'd been impassive throughout the journey, only speaking to direct them as they approached a junction or turn off. The roads had grown progressively rougher and more overgrown.

"Doesn't like these roads get much use," Maddock commented.

"We like to keep the best parts of the island to ourselves," José said, still smiling that white-toothed smile.

"Figures," Maddock said. "I wouldn't want a bunch of flabby Ros Beefs polluting my view either."

"They bring money to the island." José shrugged.

Brent was bounced around in the back as Wilson hit some potholes in the road. Branches scraped against the side of the Jeep It didn't seem to bother José in the slightest. He remained super-cool and motionless even as Stevie S. and Brent were flung around in the back.

"So this beach we're going to," Maddock said. "This is where all the honeys hang out?"

José said nothing, but his smile grew a little broader and his dark eyes twinkled.

"So Pedro, as one red-blooded male to another," Maddock continued. "Just how fine are these girls we're about to see?"

Brent expected another sly little smile, but José surprised them by suddenly becoming animated for the first time on the journey.

"They are the pearls of the Mediterranean," he said, kissing his fingers for good measure. "You will not be disappointed."

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / NonConsensual / Magic / Horror / Caution / Nudism /