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The sun hat

Greg finds a naked sunbather who wants to please her husband
It had been cool and overcast, and Greg could see from his ocean view condo that the beach had been deserted all day. It wasn’t until around 3 in the afternoon that the sun finally made an appearance, allowing him get outside to stretch his legs and take in some fresh air.

It was a little breezy but warmer as he set off towards the west end of the beach. At the far end was a lone fisherman with a bucket of water and a few small fish in it, but nothing he shouldn’t have thrown back in.

Greg turned and walked back towards the east. There wasn’t a soul in sight to admire the crashing waves as they pounded the shore, reshaping the contours in the sand.

He came to the area where the houses, perched high on the cliff top, had their long, steep, private staircases that led down to locked gates at the beach level. Suddenly a little dust devil brought a sun hat swirling towards him. It flew way over his head and then landed, scurrying along the beach. Greg ran to rescue it before it was swallowed by the ocean.

He grasped it and turned back to see where it had come from, and there, running towards him was a young woman in a red bikini. She was moving awkwardly because she was carrying a heavy book in one hand, and her other was trying to cover her chest with a flapping bra. Greg realized that she must have been sunbathing topless and had quickly grabbed the other half of her bikini when she took off after her hat.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her. She reached for it with her book hand, took the hat but dropped the book. She bent to pick it up showing Greg her bare back with her bra straps dangling on both sides. Quickly she stood up, but again dropped the book. This time Greg picked it up for her.

“I’ll hold it for you,” he said, indicating that he would walk back with her to her towel that he could see, spread out on the sand right up against the cliff.

“A true gentleman!” she remarked laughingly.

“Anything to help a damsel in distress!” he responded, and they fell into a light hearted conversation. Soon they both sat down, but after a few moments, Greg could see that the young woman was sitting self-consciously grasping her flimsy garment, unable to clasp it behind her back without exposing herself.

“Can I help you with that?” he asked, wondering if she could see him blush at his presumptuous question.

“Oh, would you?” she asked smilingly as she turned her back towards him.

Greg nervously took hold of her bra straps and tried to attach them, but failed miserably, fumbling several times.

“I’ll do it,” she declared and expertly handled the situation, but in so doing, revealed a tantalizing glimpse of one breast.

“Forgive my nakedness,” she remarked provocatively, “but I really prefer not to wear one of these things on the beach if I can help it.”

“I know what you mean,” responded Greg, “I wish this was one of those beaches.”

“One of those beaches?”

“You know what I mean? Have you ever been to Hawaii?

“Yes!”

“To Kauai?”

“No, never there.”

“Ah! There’s a beach there you might like. It’s called Secret Beach.”

“What’s the secret?”

“Topless.”

Greg didn’t want to sound too forward and tell her that the beach was in fact ‘clothing optional.’

“Oh, I see. Have you been there?”

“Oh yes, many times.”

“Then you’ve seen it all before. You won’t be shocked if I get comfortable.”

And with that, she calmly reached behind her back, unclasped her bra and tucked it into her bag. Her naked tits were firm and beautifully shaped, with broad aureolas and upright nipples. There were no pale sections to be seen anywhere on her evenly tanned body. She leaned back into the sun and they lapsed into silence. Her eyes were closed to the sun, but his stared ravenously at her gorgeous figure, his hands itching to stroke her perfect skin, and his balls tingling with excitement.

Slowly they resumed their conversation and it turned towards risqué topics. How many of the people who went down the steep path to Secret Beach went to ogle, they wondered, how many were exhibitionists, and what exactly were true naturists.

It wasn’t long before Greg confessed that Secret Beach was not just topless but in fact a totally nude beach, and the young woman - they still hadn’t introduced themselves to each other - sat up, lifted her hips off her towel and quickly wriggled out of her bikini bottom, brushing stray grains of sand away from her crevices.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before? I want an all over tan!”

Greg couldn’t say another word from that moment on. His throat was constricted but his eyes drank in the full sexuality of the young woman, lying there on her back, completely exposed to him. Her trimmed, dark bush, set off by a triangle of pale skin, stared back at him from between her shapely legs which she slowly eased apart as she continued her monolog on suggestive subjects.

Greg managed an occasional grunt to keep the conversation going, but even that was hard for him; and when she casually slipped a hand down to her groin and inserted a middle finger and gently began to pleasure herself, he was left speechless.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” she interrupted her flow of sexual chat, “open your fly and let that monster breath; it’s strangling to death inside there!”

It certainly felt like that to Greg. He did as he was bade, and with difficulty because of it’s rigid nature, managed to get his member disentangled from his pants and out it sprang, pointing skyward.

“That’s better,” she went on, “I like to see a man who’s paying attention!”

The sight of Greg’s twitching shaft seemed to heighten her efforts and her breath came in short bursts as her finger flew back and forth.

“Are you coming?”

It was a male voice calling out from a house on the cliffs high above.

“Y-yes, I’m cumming,” she managed to scream back, and she was, her face contorting in pleasure and squeaks of satisfaction escaping from her lips.

As soon as she could breath calmly again, she announced to Greg that the man up there was her husband.

“It’s OK. He’s impotent, but he does love to watch. Do you want to come up to the house and fuck me?”

Greg couldn’t begin to croak out any kind of response and so she went on, thinking his lack of an answer was a negative one.

“You’d do me such a favor. He never gets any, and I only get some if I find someone like you down here. Please, would you?”

Again, no answer was possible. Greg’s mind was racing ahead, thinking of the long climb up the steps to her house. If she led the way, his face would be just inches from her bare ass. He could just see it - sashaying from side to side, close enough to kiss or lick, or even take a little nibble. His fingers could practically feel it, a cheek in each hand, undulating rhythmically.

He wasn’t really listening at all until he heard her say, “You have the prettiest penis I’ve ever seen.”

Prettiest? He’d never thought of it in those terms. Handsome perhaps, but pretty? He looked down at it and proudly began to observe its qualities; today it seemed to be thicker than usual. Could it really be longer as well? Still wearing his pants, it was hard to tell. The skin on his cock was remarkably tight, almost bursting at the seams. But what was most pleasing was the angle it stood out at; it was as vertical as it had ever been as a teenager.

He wasn’t the only one staring at it.

“Oooooo,” she cooed, and her lips pushed forward into a circle and her tongue ran around the perimeter, moistening it.

“Plus which, it’s so much bigger than my husband’s.”

How did she know that Greg had been worrying about that? No one wants to be smaller than someone else, specially when you’re fucking their wife!

So much bigger!” she repeated.

She knew how to flatter a man. Greg was fully paying attention now, and every last part of his body stiffened.

“Would you let me touch it?”

With that last remark, Greg’s balls contracted violently and without even laying a finger on himself, he came with great gobs of cum which spurted in wide arcs across the sand.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she noted as she picked up her belongings, flung her towel over her shoulder and strode, naked, towards her private staircase.

“Could you carry my book?” she asked.

“Sorry!” he responded, as she led the way up the steps, “I’m going to need my hands.”

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