So, what was a single guy from Cleveland like me doing by myself at a vacation spot on a French island in the Caribbean?  It’s a little awkward to admit, but I was here for the naked women.  Yes, I have an affliction.  I love to look at the unadorned female body.  And there is no known cure -- If 100 naked women paraded past me, and someone said #101 was rounding the corner, I would turn to look.  Every time. 

 But I am not a lonely misanthrope who masturbates in the dark over photos on the internet.  No, I have a steady girlfriend and she and I have a normal and satisfying sex life.  But she balks at the idea of walking nude on a beach among strangers – even if it is the French way.  Hence, I’m here alone.  I care for her deeply, and she lets me indulge my wandering eye, so long as I always return to her.  It’s not an arrangement made for everyone, but it works for us. 

It was my third day at the resort, and as usual I walked to the end of the island, where the signs stated, in English and French, ‘Clothing Optional.’  There was one woman there whom I recognized.  It was Simone, a French woman whom I sat with at dinner last night.  The dinner tables at this resort are communal – accommodating 10 people, and the first 10 people to arrive are always directed to sit at the next open spot.  That serves to mingle the guests, helping everyone to get to know each other. 

“Hey, Simone,” I said.  “Mind if I spread my blanket next to your’s?”

She squinted up at me, shielding the sun with her eyes.  “Oh hello, Matthew.  Sure.” Her words were spoken in perfect, French-accented English.  (Her English was maybe better than mine; my high school French consists of just enough mangled words to embarrass myself.) 

Simone is a tall, attractive, blonde-haired French women in her 20’s.  She has a beautiful, welcoming face, and her clothes at dinner teased a curvy, well-proportioned body.  But there was no need for teasing now.  She was as naked as the day she was born.  I enjoyed the lovely view of her bare breasts.  They were the size of plump peaches, resting high and firm on her chest.  I resisted the temptation to reach down, to feel that soft, pliable skin and the hard nub of the nipples.  Wispy blonde pubic hair rose in an unshaven tangle above her mound.  I could see the lips of her vagina, but only with an occasional glance.  It would have been impolite to stare.

I sat down and pulled off my swim trunks.  My male parts made their presence, and Simone watched the unveiling.  She surveyed my dangling penis and balls with a pleased look on her face.  We chatted amiably with small talk.  I remarked how unusual nude bathing is for Americans; the French have much less drama over it.

“Yes, it’s true,” Simone said.  “But I am always surprised how casually men reveal their hanging parts.  We women don’t have anything down there, so it’s easier for us to strip.”

That remark surprised me.  Nothing down there?  Is that’s what she thinks?  I decided to take advantage of that casual comment.  I conspicuously moved my head to within inches of her middle, gazing at her vulva.  “Yeah, you’re absolutely right.  Nothing down there.”

Her body stiffened at my intrusive action.  I froze too.  While it was meant to be funny, I might have crossed a line.  I barely knew this woman.  Was a slap coming?  But then she laughed.

“OK, touché, as we say in French.  I see your point.”

I gave a sigh of relief.  She was cool with my sense of humor.  And, I might add, cool with my having placed my face within inches of her vagina.  This was promising.

Simone was at the resort with two friends from her college days.  All single women.  A girls’ vacation.  The other women were currently horseback riding.  Simone had opted for the beach. 

“Your boyfriend doesn’t mind your going on vacation without him?” I pointedly asked to find out if a ‘Jacques’ or ‘Julien’ (or whatever his name was) existed. 

“He does not mind.  He trusts me not to get into too much trouble,” she replied. 

“How much is too much?” I asked.  If I was fishing for information, I guess I might as well go for the big fish.

She laughed again.  She was sweet, with a disarming manner.

“This is the age of women’s liberation,” she said.  “It even has reached the shores of France, that land of the possessive Frenchman.  And what about you?  Is your girlfriend worried over your being tempted by all us French women?”

“I am between girlfriends,” I lied.  (When pursuing a possible hook-up, most men lie shamelessly.  They just don’t admit it, as I just did.)

“So have you come here seeking a companion?” Simone asked.

“A guy always is looking for a beautiful woman … such as yourself,” I answered. 

She laughed again.  “I fear you may be somewhat dangerous.  A handsome unattached man, quick with a compliment.  And me here, all alone.”

“Alone?  You have your friends,” I questioned.

“Alone without a man.  I do not expect my women friends to protect me from temptation.”

Oh my God, she is tempted?  By me?  My penis made a slight movement.  Not an erection, but it stirred as it listened to this conversation and began to anticipate a call to attention.  It is an independent actor in these matters; my brain has limited influence over it. 

Simone noticed the small twitch, but did not say anything.  We talked some more, and she promised to meet me for drinks later that night.

At 8 pm, Simone, accompanied by her two friends, joined me in the bar.  I was surprised to see the other women, but after about 20 minutes, they excused themselves and left.  Clearly, she had asked them to check me out; did I look like a serial killer?  Predator?  Pervert?

“So, did I pass inspection?” I asked Simone.

She laughed that beautiful laugh of hers.  “Either that, or they went to summon the gendarmes to protect me.”

“Well,” I said, “perhaps I should lure you to my room now, before the police arrive.”  

“That would be lovely,” she said.  “But let’s go to my room.  My friends will be out for the next few hours.” 

I settled the bar tab and we left.  I had seen her fully naked, of course, but that did not detract from the pleasure of removing her clothes, item by item.  She reciprocated, and it was giddy pleasure as we pulled garments off of each other.  I was able to touch those perfect breasts, to feel the softness of the skin.  She manipulated my balls with a practiced hand, reducing me to a whimpering mass.  (I envied Jacques, or whatever his name is; not every woman knows that caressing the balls is an ideal build-up before engaging the big fish.) 

I pulled on a condom and she let me make love to her.  After we both had climaxed, I prepared to spend the night with her in the room’s king-sized bed.  But Simone said that would be a problem.  Her two roommates were giving us time, but they weren’t going to sleep in the corridor tonight.  I suggested that perhaps they’d be willing to share this large bed, with me?

Simone eyed me warily.  “It’s a little presumptuous of you to think they’d be okay with a strange man in their bed.”

“I’m sure they’ll be on the nude beach with you tomorrow.  I won’t be seeing anything tonight not readily available on the beach.  And I doubt they are shy.”

I could see Simone pondering this.

“And I don’t have pajamas with me,” I said.  “Maybe they would favor a preview of me on the beach tomorrow.  Do they like to look?“

“You are incorrigible,” Simone said.  (Great command of the English language.  And an accurate reading of my character.)

She dialed a number on her cell phone.  She chatted away in French (I didn’t understand a word), but when it was over, she said I could stay.  “But you can’t wear any clothes the entire time.”

“Really?” I said.

“No, of course not.  I am teasing you.  But my friends do like the male form  -- as I do.  They won’t ask, but it would be a nice gesture if you and I were not modest around them.”

Being in the voyeur mindset myself, I understood completely.  They wanted to watch.  “Sure; maybe we can put on a little show for their benefit.”

So, the deal was made.  I would spend the night snuggling with Simone, not shielding my body too much, and her friends could watch. 

The other ladies joined us, and we ordered some room service.  It was pleasant chatting and drinking with them.  When bed time arrived, the ladies changed into their nightwear in front of me, with no false modesty.  As I hadn’t brought pajamas, it was obvious I’d have to sleep in the nude.  They didn’t protest.

Simone and I climbed onto one side of the king-sized bed, while the two women lay on the other.  Four people in one bed, even a king-sized one, is a lot and it might be difficult to sleep like that.   But sleep wasn’t on anyone’s mind.  Simone all but assaulted me, kicking off the sheets so that our bodies were exposed to view.

I quickly realized that my offer to put on a show was unnecessary.  Simone was way ahead of me.  She grabbed me and pressed our bodies together.  The other ladies gave her a few minutes of exclusivity with me (so polite) and then joined in.  Their night gowns were quickly shed.  Two shapely bodies, both with breasts larger than Simone’s, crawled onto the bed.  One sat on my face, allowing my tongue to service her, while another sucked on my penis.  Somebody massaged my feet.  (Don’t scoff if you haven’t discovered the erotic properties of the feet.)  They took turns, swapping in to sample me and be sampled by me.

I wrapped dangling breasts against my face, while one lady teased my penis to its full height.  Simone stretched a condom over the erect penis and positioned herself over me.  She dropped down and I was inside her.  She rocked up and down and I only lasted a short time (it’s a miracle I lasted any time at all.)  Thirty minutes of three sets of hands and three naked female bodies left me a limp rag.   I begged for rest.  One of the roommates left to sleep on the couch, while the rest of us huddled together like new-born kittens in a litter. 

Sleep spread its warm embrace over us, and it was dawn when I awoke.  I couldn’t move, or I’d disturb the sweet scene of huddled bodies warm against me.  I let them sleep until they awoke of their own accord.

One of the women went into the bathroom, and the one who had slept on the couch crawled into her spot on the bed.  In an impressive display of male resilience, my penis rose to greet her.  She let me climb on top of her.  “I love to feel the weight of a man pressing on me,” she said.  “Hold me.”

I did.  The intimacy and closeness of her body and mine was deeply satisfying.

In the morning, we all cleaned up and went down for breakfast.  Wearing clothes to breakfast seemed like a major imposition and we agreed that that had to change.  We returned to the room to put on swimwear – to walk to the beach where we could be naked together again. 

I felt the envious eyes of men on the beach watching me, as I lay in the sand amongst three beautiful, bare female bodies.  I know what they were thinking, and I didn’t have an answer.  How did I ever stumble into this? 

And my girlfriend back home?  She’ll never hear the full story.  I want to return here next year and I’m not taking any chances on how tolerant she is.