"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."
Brent had doubts about that. They didn't improve when he saw the road they were supposed to follow after they'd dropped José off at the base of a small hill. The islander stood there and waved after them with a broad smile, still completely out of place in the rustic setting with his fancy white suit.
"I think our Pedro might be having a little jape at our expense," Maddock said.
The four of them were standing outside the Jeep The road, a generous description at best, had come to a dead stop, completely overgrown with vegetation. They stood in the shade, surrounded by a dense knot of greenery. Underneath the canopy the humidity was stifling. Bird song sounded all around them while large insects whirred by with somnambulant drones.
"It's going to be a bugger driving back," Wilson said. "I think I'm going to have to reverse for most of the way."
Brent looked around. There was nothing here but trees, leaves and caked dirt underfoot.
"Hey, I think there's a path up here," Stevie S. called back.
They followed him up a small rise and were astonished as they scrambled over a small ridge and suddenly came out on paradise. It was a secluded little bay with high cliffs at either end. Pristine golden sand sloped down to a brilliant blue sea. Gentle waves crested with only a slight dusting of white foam lapped at the shore.
And the girls...
"Fucking hell," Wilson said, "we're on the set of a Loaded calender shoot."
"Our Pedro is indeed a man of good taste," Maddock said.
Wilson was right, Brent thought. It was like looking on an expensive photo-shoot in an exotic location. Beautiful models were lounging on the beach.
Naked beautiful models were lounging on the beach.
They all had that perfect Mediterranean olive skin. Long black hair cascaded behind their heads in lush waves. The exposed and equally perfect hemispheres of their breasts were topped with dusky brown nipples. And their legs ... wow, those legs. They went on and on and on.
The boys hunkered down in the shade and admired the girls from afar. There were nine of them in total and not a single man in sight. The girls lay on the beach, sunning themselves and not in the least bit self conscious about their nakedness.
"This is fucking beach bunny nirvana," Wilson said.
"So now what do you say, oh ye of little faith," Stevie S. said. "When I say there's going to be hot naked chicks, there's going to be hot naked chicks."
"You done good," Maddock said.
Brent wondered if the girls knew they had an audience. It might be his imagination, but it seemed like they were posing. Heads were thrown back and tousled hair cascaded onto the sand. Their breasts were thrust up for maximum effect. Full, sensuous lips were pressed together in seductive pouts. Yes, Brent could almost believe they were putting on a deliberate show.
Or maybe they were just so damn hot it all came naturally.
The boys didn't get to spy on them for long before one of the girls turned and spotted them. Brent expected a commotion, but instead of shying away or covering up the girls beckoned them down to join them with a friendly wave.
"Well, what are you waiting for," Maddock said. He stood up straight and smoothed back his lustrous black hair.
Brent stood up with the others. He noticed Wilson sucking in the slight swellings of his burgeoning beer gut. Stevie S. was furiously using his fingers to comb his spiky hair into some semblance of fashionable disarray. Brent puffed out his own chest. Their preparations done, the boys stepped out onto the beach, trying their best to look like the coolest dudes on the planet.
Nah, that was too negative, Brent thought. They were the coolest dudes on the planet.
The girls sat up and watched the boys as they sauntered down to them. They looked amused.
"Hello ladies, Hola chicas," Maddock said, smiling broadly.
The first girl, a gorgeous honey with golden-brown skin, looked Maddock up and down. Her soft brown eyes sparkled with lustful hunger. None of the girls seemed the slightest bit shy about being naked in front of complete strangers. Given how hot their bodies were, Brent wasn't that surprised.
"Aren't you a little overdressed for this beach," the first girl teased. She spoke English with only the light traces of an accent.
Always the show off, Maddock ripped his shirt open. Shiny buttons flew into the air and landed on the soft sand. They sparkled in the bright sunlight. The girls' attentions were focused on Maddock and they tittered with delight as he flexed his pecs. They didn't seem to mind his skin was the typical pasty colour of the mid-May Englishman.
Unbelievable, Brent thought. They were gagging for it. Completely gorgeous and gagging for it. He glanced over at Stevie S., who flashed him back a smile of triumph as if to say: 'Of course, what did you expect?'
Naked now, Maddock lay down next to the lead girl. He was already snogging her before Brent had even had a chance to pull his trousers down. Such a smooth bastard, Brent thought.
While he was undressing Brent noticed one of the girls was looking at him. She was a little different from the others. Her hair was lighter coloured, more dirty blonde than chestnut brown, and her eyes were blue like the cloudless sky above them. She also seemed a little more coy. While the others stared at the boys with unflinching gazes, she glanced shyly away every time Brent looked at her directly. Always slow enough for their eyes to briefly linger on each other though.
Brent paused when he reached his boxers, a little self conscious now he knew someone was staring at him. Fuck it. He pulled them down anyway and saw the blonde girl steal a quick glance at his exposed privates before looking coyly away.
"Go on you muppet!" Wilson whispered in his ear. "Can't you see she's gagging for you." He pushed Brent hard in the back.
Brent stumbled towards the girl.
"Mind if I lie down here?" he asked the beautiful blonde girl. He tried to sound both casual and confident, but in reality his heart was pounding in his throat.
She really was beautiful. Her blue eyes sparkled like precious stones. Her hair cascaded on her olive shoulders in a shower of golden curls. Her pink lips looked full and inviting. And this was before he'd even looked at the other treasures of her naked body.
"Lie here," she said, slender hand motioning over a flat patch of beach right next to her. "The sand is soft."
Brent got down next to her. She lay on her side, fine sand dusting her naked breasts as she stared at him. Was that really adoration he saw in her eyes? He must be dreaming. This beat the hell out banging some Essex slapper on a Club 18-30.
"What's your name?" he asked. "I'm Brent."
"Lamellisabella," she replied, her blue eyes intense as she stared into his.
"Lamellisabella," Brent said, rolling the strange syllables on his tongue like exotic food. "That's pretty."
Fuck, she was gorgeous, Brent thought.
"Where are you from?" Lamellisabella asked.
"England," Brent replied. "London," he added.
"Is that far?" she asked.
She must mean the flight time, he thought.
"Not too far," Brent said. "A couple of hours flight."
"Then we are both strangers here," Lamellisabella said.
That surprised Brent. "You're not from the island?"
Lamellisabella shook her head.
"Oh, I just assumed," he said. "Where are you from?"
Lamellisabella beckoned with her hand out beyond the bay. Brent saw only sea, as flat and as placid as a piece of glass.
The continent must be that way, or maybe another island, he thought.
"You're very pale," Lamellisabella said.
Brent shivered in excitement as she ran a soft hand over his shoulder and down his arm. Gagging for it, he thought. Absolutely gagging for it.
"We don't get much sun in England," Brent said. "Not at this time of year."
Concern flashed in Lamellisabella's eyes. "You'll burn in this sun," she said. "Let me put some sun cream on."
She reached behind her and came back with a small brown plastic bottle.
"I'm glad you've got some," Brent said. "I left mine back in the car."
Which was really dumb considering the sun usually turned him redder than a boiled lobster.
"The locals leave it for us," Lamellisabella said, "along with other gifts."
She squirted greasy white lotion into her palms. She motioned Brent onto his front and began to massage the liquid into his neck and shoulders. Her touch was light and erotic, but it was the single-mindedness of her attentions that really turned him on, like he was the only thing in the world that existed to her. He was glad he was lying on his front, it hid his massive erection.
Lamellisabella rubbed the slippery liquid into his shoulders and then moved down his back. Brent stared dreamily out across the calm blue sea. Sea birds wheeled in the clear blue sky above it. This was the life, he thought. Here he was, lying on a warm beach while an absolutely gorgeous island nymph rubbed sun cream into his...
Brent squirmed as Lamellisabella's hands slipped down to his buttocks and cheekily reached round to tickle the back of his balls. She giggled as he jumped and he joined in with easy laughter.
You're a fucking genius Stevie S., Brent thought. And a jammy bastard for running into the one person who knew where this hidden beach was.
"Where are the local men?" Brent asked, suddenly wondering why José hadn't come with them. Or why there were none of his fellow islanders. This seemed like a perfect place for them to turn on that Mediterranean charm.
"The local men don't come near us," Lamellisabella said.
Maybe they only stuck to their own kind, he thought.
"Their loss," Brent laughed.
He turned over and propped himself up on an elbow. Lamellisabella lay next to him.
"Could you do me?" she said, her eyes suggestive as she stared at him.
A blob of white liquid dripped from the bottle and landed on her naked chest. Brent was mesmerised as he watched the white dribble slide down the side of her tanned breast.
She took his hand and pressed it against the side of her breast. He marvelled at the feel of its soft weight resting against his palm. As she stared deep into his eyes he brought his other hand over and cupped her other breast. He began to rub sun cream into her firm breasts, nervously at first but soon picking up the confidence to massage them properly. She closed her eyes and sighed in delight as his hands roamed all over her soft olive skin. He felt her nipples between his fingers. They were erect and pointed like bullets.
Her full lips parted and Brent took that as his cue to kiss her, leaning down and brushing his lips lightly against hers. He was tentative at first, but then grew bolder. A light touch became a firmer press and soon their tongues were jousting between their hot mouths. Her arms circled his back and she pulled him down on her until he felt her warm body and those ever so luscious breasts pressing against him.
Time lost meaning. He stopped noticing even the hot sun beating down on his back. There was only Lamellisabella, her soft lips pressed against his, her teasing tongue tickling his, her warm body beneath him. She guided his hand down her body, leading him to the warm mysteries between her legs, mysteries he'd soon get to explore...
Sun cream wasn't the only thing he'd forgotten.
You tool! You knobhead! You absolute fucking moron of the highest fucking order!
He'd left his condoms in the fucking Jeep
Brent broke off the kiss much to Lamellisabella's obvious disappointment.
"I have to fetch something from the car," he whispered. "I won't be long. I promise."
He gave her another kiss, this one little more than a brief peck. There was a strange after-taste to her mouth and lips. Salty, a little like the sea. He hadn't noticed it before.
He got up and tried to look dignified as he walked up the beach, even though inside he wanted to pick up the nearest hard object and repeatedly bash his head against it.
How could he be such a fucking idiot?
He looked back and gave Lamellisabella a reassuring wave. She was sitting up, her beautiful blue eyes wide as she watched him go.
Idiot. Fuckwit. Moron. Brent berated himself.
Back beneath the vegetation and out of sight of the beach he broke into a less than dignified sprint.
"Tool. Dickwad. Muppet."
He spat out curses under his breath as he got back to the Jeep He pulled open the door and frantically rummaged through the glove compartment.
"Where are you? Where are you?"
His hand closed around the familiar leather square of his wallet. He reached inside and pulled out a foil wrapped condom.
"Yes, you beauty!" Brent said, holding up the little square of silver like it was a hundred pound note.
He charged back up the slope, hoping that Lamellisabella hadn't lost interest in the meantime. He used his arms to batter away overhanging fronds. At the top of the slope he paused to get his breath back. It wouldn't do if he came back panting like a septuagenarian marathon runner.
Brent was relieved to see Lamellisabella was still sitting in the same place and smiling eagerly in his direction. She didn't look too pissed. He should be able to continue from where he left off without too much trouble.
You're going to fuck her. You're actually going to fuck a girl as gorgeous as that.