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Our secret beach

Written originally for my wife, to set the mood for a sensual vacation. Comments welcomed!
Three of my top sensual experiences in life include:

1) Making love to my wife. I never grow tired of this.
2) Getting a full body massage at The Rubb Inn in San Diego where we live.
3) Going naked on a beach in Hawaii.

This story combines all three.

After two weeks of great sex at our time share on Kauai, my wife and I were spending our last day on the island at our own little ‘secret’ beach. This is not the famous “Secret Beach” that is clearly marked on all the maps - a place which is not legally a naked beach, but traditionally people go there and take it all off. The problem is that there are also lots of clothed people who go just to ogle.

We had discovered our perfect little secret beach when we was exploring some years ago. The unmarked road through the cane sugar fields was filled with deep pot holes, and I was scared that the rented car might get stuck; Avis had warned us not to go off road because our insurance wouldn’t cover it.

But when we found this spot, we never wanted to go anywhere else. A large piece of coral reef had been upended and lay across the shallow water, protecting us from any rogue waves and creating an unending stream of crystal clear water where little minnows dashed.

You could actually lie on the beach with your feet in the water, and also be in complete shade from the trees that grow there - perfect for my skin which burns easily. The trees are not big, but they have wonderful large leaves that look like the ones you find on a fig tree - so appropriate for us, feeling as we did that we were basking in the Garden of Eden.

As usual, no one was around as we lay on our grass mats on the sand, reading trashy novels, reveling in the sensuous feeling of the tropical breeze wafting across our skin, and particularly on the parts of our bodies that seldom saw the light of day. I was not really concentrating on my book; I was reliving the past two weeks.

Just before we touched down at LIH - Lihue airport - Joan had leaned over and whispered in my ear,

“I didn’t pack any panties!”

I was thrilled to hear she was going to go commando for our whole vacation, but when she told me she wanted to shop as soon as we landed, I thought I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Luckily, it turned out she wanted to buy a shorter skirt. At home, she would never have been seen in anything so daring, but the air in Kauai always seems to be some sort of aphrodisiac for her. Soon we found ourselves at the Coconut Market Place - a small shopping mall we’d been to many times before.

The sales girl at Bodacious Body Wear was a gorgeous young thing with curly dark hair. She looked as if she had some Hawaiian blood in her and perhaps some Latina genes; it was a blend that really worked.

She was quick to catch on. Although it was never openly expressed, she soon knew that what her clients wanted was a short skirt that could be modest enough under normal circumstances, but which could easily be brushed aside when the wearer wanted to make a different sort of impression.

She moved over to a wall which was covered by shelves - floor to ceiling - where all the skirts were stored by size. Instead of bending at the knees to look at the lowest shelf, she bent at the waist and her own short skirt lifted delightfully, revealing a tiny pink pantie. Joan and I exchanged knowing looks, and I whispered to her, “She’s got exactly what we want!”

She handed Joan a couple of samples to try on, and stood back as her model appeared out of the changing room to show off for me. However, it was the sales girl herself who led the reviews with comments on the color of each skirt and how it complimented Joan’s green eyes.

Every time she went back to the shelves to find more designs, she always found them in a middle shelf; but I couldn’t help but notice she always looked in the lowest shelf first, giving me a thrill every time. I could clearly see the outline of her pussy lips between her legs, hidden only by the thinnest wisp of sheer fabric.

Finally we decided on a skirt which had a design of bright green leaves and brilliant yellow plumeria flowers. It had a high slit along each hip that teased the viewer with glimpses of what might (or might not) lie beneath.

We enjoyed the girl’s perky personality, and I took a picture of the two of them posing together. Joan decided to wear the new garment out of the store. While I was paying the cashier with my credit card, she secretly took my other hand and slipped it under her skirt, placing it on her ass. I tried to remain unflustered as I signed, realizing that the game was on!

Joan chose her moments well, walking sedately past the store fronts, well aware that a cheeky breeze could easily expose her ass and hairy pussy to unsuspecting onlookers. On occasion she would flip up the front of her skirt and I could see her nakedness reflected in the store window.

We stopped for lunch at the Kauai Hula Girl Bar for a sandwich and a refreshing, cool soda, and Joan sat down at a corner table facing away from the front counter. She lifted her skirt and pressed the icy drink between her legs. I held my camera low and snapped a few pictures with people in the background milling around just inches behind her back. You could tell by her expression that Joan was beginning to enjoy her risky behavior.

While we ate, I reviewed the photos on my camera, and was surprised to see what had actually gone on in the store with the sales girl. The photo showed that at the very moment of “cheese” she had lifted her own little skirt and given us the front view of her skimpy pink panties underneath, and a wicked grin on her face.

Just then, I happened to look up, and there was the same young sales girl coming into the cafe to get her own lunch. As she turned to leave with her burrito, she noticed us sitting at our table in the corner. She strode over and without so much as an “Excuse me; may I?” she reached down and lifted the edge of Joan’s skirt revealing her nakedness underneath.

“Perfect!” she crowed as she skipped out the door, flipping up her own skirt with one hand and showing us that she was also going commando. Joan and I both appreciated her cute little derriere and looked around to see if anyone else had enjoyed it as well. No! It had been a private showing.


Yes, it had been a magnificent vacation. Joan and I lay naked on our secret beach, drinking in the last few hours of our freedom from clothing, doing our best to imprint a lasting memory of the feeling that the humid, fragrant Hawaiian air left on every part of our bodies.

Deep into our novels, Joan and I were startled to hear a nearby voice say, “Good morning!”

Dropping our books and quickly trying to hide our nakedness, we saw a pretty, redheaded woman, perhaps in her late 30s, standing there in typical tourist attire - an Hawaiian print blouse, Bermuda shorts and flip-flops.

“Is this a naked beach?” this golden tanned beauty asked innocently, eyeing my groin.

It was too late and completely pointless to try to cover up; she had already seen that I didn’t have a stitch on.

“Ah, no, not exactly, it’s not an official naked beach, but we hardly ever see anyone here, so we just take our clothes off.”

“Oh, great idea!” she replied. “Mind if I join you?”

Without waiting for an answer, she dropped her beach bag onto the sand and began to undress. Under her top was a bathing suit which left little to the imagination, and under her shorts the matching lower half left even less. It was a thong which revealed a bottom every bit as perky as the one on the shop girl we’d run into two weeks before.

Taking a beach towel out of her bag, she found a sunny spot close to Joan, and sat down.

“I hope you don’t mind; I’m a little scared of being alone on the beach,” she told her as she reached back to unclasp her little bra top.

“I’m so glad to find some other naturists!”

Joan was about to tell her that we weren’t exactly naturists when the woman lowered the tiny patch of cloth and Joan and I both gasped at the sight. Her tits were obviously natural, but they barely sagged at all as they swung loose. I would describe them as large - a good handful - but it wasn’t the size of them that was so impressive; it was their beautifully sculpted shape, plus her prominent nipples atop each wide, dark areola.

In one of her typical improvised bursts of candor, Joan told the woman that her breasts were the most beautiful ones she had ever seen.

“Oh, thank you,” replied the newcomer, blushing slightly, “my tits never get much of an outing.”

That was no doubt true, because she had a distinct line between the tanned skin on her chest and the milky whiteness surrounding her dark red nipples.

“Have you ever seen such nice tits?” Joan demanded of me, encouraging me to compliment the young woman myself, and perhaps not wanting to come across as a lesbian.

“Except for yours,” I diplomatically suggested. “Why yes, absolutely, they’re wonderful,” I stumbled on. “Your whole figure is just.... you should.... aah.... pose for...aaaah.... statues, you...... ” My voice trailed off into silence and the two of us couldn’t help but stare at the woman as she began to wriggle out of her thong.

“Oh, my!” Joan blurted out, “I love red hair!”

And there, catching the rays of the Hawaiian morning, was the biggest bush of bright red hair between her legs. I wondered how she’d managed to tuck it all into her miniscule thong.

“Now you know my secret,” she announced proudly. “I’m a true red head.”

The conversation had started out with blatant truths and proceeded rapidly to bypass the usual small talk and get on to the bigger topics of life. Her name was Roseanne; she was single and desperately looking for a mate before her eggs got too old. We knew the type; she was probably more than the average male could handle. She had finally made up her mind to take a chance and go on line with a dating service, but she didn’t have any decent photos of herself to upload.

“No problem,” chimed in Joan. “Derek does this all the time for our friends. Derek, why don’t you take some pictures of Roseanne right now?”

I was more than happy to oblige as Roseanne stood up, pulling on her blouse and shorts. Joan dove into her beach bag and retrieved her small make up kit and hairbrush, and soon had Roseanne looking glamorous. With fresh lipstick and her hair neatly coifed, she proved herself to be a very capable model, taking direction extremely well and also coming up with imaginative ideas of her own.

It must have made an unusual sight; two naked people primping and posing a dressed person. Usually, I thought, it was the other way around, with the model nude and the photographer dressed!

Soon we had an ample supply of head shots, head and shoulders, full torso and leggy shots, together with a wide variety of facial expressions. She could look like a business woman, surprisingly stern and serious, and immediately transform herself into a playful coquette, smiling widely or throwing her head back in laughter. She was also totally aware that if she pulled her blouse tight across her bosom, her nipples would be very evident. She knew too that if she leaned forward, the camera could see deep into her cleavage, unfettered by any bra. I was not unaware of this either and dutifully recorded each pose.

Finally Roseanne declared, “OK! Great! Thanks! I’m sure we’ve got enough; plenty to choose from.”

I was not nearly ready to stop the fun, as this was my fantasy - taking glamorous and sexy photos of a gorgeous woman. Reluctantly, I was about to tuck the camera away and lie back on my grass mat again when Roseanne went on, “But you know what? I think I might also sign up for a Naturist dating site. Would you mind taking a few more without clothes?”

“I’ve taken all of them without clothes!” I replied, very pleased at myself for finding the perfect moment for that old joke.

But my mind was set racing by this request and I realized this was my one great opportunity to fulfill my deepest secret fantasy. Here was a knockout beauty asking me to take nude pictures of her! And guilt free to boot because my wife was there and even approving!

Before I could say anything, my cock twitched at the thought and Roseanne spotted it and knowingly remarked, “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Absolutely! No problem. Delighted to help in any way.” I tried to appear casual.

Roseanne stripped off her clothes once more and soon the three of us were again planning alluring poses. We used the fig leaves, placing them discretely, and then less and less discreetly; Joan even found a way of poking a small hole in the leaves and hanging them off Roseanne’s nipples. In the end we discarded them as they covered far too much of her glorious body.

Without clothes, it was now possible to take pictures of her in the water, and we arranged her lying in the crystal pool, sometimes submerged and sometimes high and dry, with sand sticking in round patterns on her ass or on her stomach and tits. Joan brushed her off with her hands, making sure she always looked her best.

We came across an old piece of fishing net and Joan and I exchanged knowing looks as we remembered a previous photo shoot of our own. Joan had been wrapped in a similar net and had acted like a mermaid, lying seductively on the beach as the waves came in, rushing up her body. Foam would cover her pussy and stomach, and then each little bubble would pop and leave her skin tingling.

My cock started to take on a life of its own, growing ever and ever thicker and standing out further and further from my body. Joan was also feeling the sexual tension and started to direct more of the shots herself, recreating the mermaid shoot with even more explicit angles made possible because of our model’s perfect body. She had no bad angles. She just could not take a bad photo. Any time one of her gorgeous tits was in the picture, your focus was there, and it had to be riveting. But these shots were now definitely way beyond their original intent.

As I was about to take another picture of Roseanne lying backwards on the sand, with her ankles crossed and her body propped up on her elbows, Joan suddenly stopped the action.

“Hang on a second! Make up!” She grabbed her cosmetic bag and pulled out her hairbrush again.

“You know, we have to feature your most unique asset a bit better. Your bush has got all wet and stringy. Here let me fix it.”

She knelt in front of Roseanne and began to brush the springy, brilliant red hair, fluffing it and bringing it back to its most stunning prominence.

“Not everyone’s got a pussy like yours,” she told her. “We have to capture it in all its glory.”

There was so much thick, red hair that Joan was able to tease it in different ways; she would part it down the middle or to one side, or have one side slicked down with the other side bouffant. I took shots of her handiwork every time, both close up and full length, including Joan in many of them now as she acted out her own childhood fantasy of becoming a hair dresser.

Soon it became clear that all three of us were - without question - highly sexually aroused. I was quite stiff already, Joan often brushed her hand against my erection, and Roseanne, whose nipples were already pointing rigidly skyward, began to pose with her legs drifting apart, spreading them wider and wider. In spite of the profusion of pubic hair, her pussy lips could now easily be seen, swollen and glistening.

I had to take one last pose. I had been dreaming of this one since we’d met the sales girl at Bodacious Body Wear. I directed Roseanne to stand with her back to me, bend at the waist and pick up a shell. Standing slightly to one side I could see her pussy lips between her legs, her puckered rose bud between her cheeks, and also one fabulous tit hanging down towards the ‘come hither’ expression on her face. There was absolutely no excuse for taking this picture, but all three of us knew we were simply enjoying an uninhibited moment of pure, gratuitous sex, and it was perfect.

Finally we stopped, sat down on the sand and sank into a silence.

At last Roseanne spoke up. She told us that she had better get going because her flight had been canceled that morning after she’d checked out of her hotel, and she needed to find a place to stay until she caught the same flight the next morning.

“We’ve got a spare room in our condo,” Joan told her immediately. “Why don’t you stay with us?”

“Oh, could I?” she replied. “I’ll pay you!”

“Nonsense,” I said, “there’s no need for that.”

“Well, I could give you a gift!”

“No really, there’s no need.”

“But I think you might like my gift. I never told you what I do for a living. I’m a masseuse.”

At this, Joan lit up like a firecracker.

“OK! I accept! I’m ready! Let’s go!”

And it was a very excited Joan who packed her stuff together, pulled on a minimum amount of clothing, and the two of them scurried off towards Roseanne’s car.

“I’ll show her the way,” she called back to me. “See you there!”

My mind was racing as I drove back to the time share, took a quick shower and was ready to welcome them when they arrived back a short while later.

Muumuus and more formal wear replaced our beach attire, and off we went to an elegant restaurant with crisp white table cloths. Wine and fresh seafood soon satisfied some of our cravings, and we headed back to the condo, glowing from our day’s activities.


As soon as we were safely inside, the door locked, the air conditioner turned up, the shades drawn, candles lit and the lights dimmed, Roseanne took command.

“OK, everybody. Clothes off! I like to work nude too. Joan, you’re first. Do you have any good body oil we can use?”

We headed up to the loft bedroom, stripping off and stepping out of our clothes as we went. Joan pulled the duvet back and lay face downwards on the bed. Roseanne spotted an airplane blindfold on the night stand and covered Joan’s eyes with it.

“Time to relax! Derek and I are going to give you the works.”

Lowering her voice conspiratorially she went on, “Start at that end, I’ll start up here.”

Roseanne began on Joan’s scalp and I started kneading her feet. Taking our time, we slowly moved towards each other, passing the oil back and forth, Roseanne rubbing Joan’s shoulders and neck, and then her arms and down her back; I worked upwards on her calves, her thighs, then all the way up to her ass. Roseanne could see that I knew how to work ass muscles and she nodded her approval.

Joan threw in an occasional satisfied groan or a compliment to keep the two of us hard at work, and after a while she shifted her legs slightly apart. Roseanne, noticing this, again nodded to me, encouraging me to rub my fingers down between the crack of her ass, over her anus and onto the outer folds of her vagina. Joan’s purring sounds changed to little squawks and hurried intakes of breath and she wiggled and pushed her ass up off the bed to get more contact.

A whispered command: “Joan; time to turn over.”

She continued to massage Joan’s neck and shoulders while I began once more at the bottom with her feet and worked my way up until I was again stroking Joan’s pussy lips.

“Stretch them apart, Derek. Good, like that.”

Roseanne was now massaging Joan’s tits and gently twisting her nipples between her fingers. It was clear she knew exactly what to do with a woman’s body.

“Time for stage three!” she whispered.

Roseanne passed the oil back to me and silently mimed that I should douse the tip of my cock with it. She encouraged me to climb up onto the bed between Joan’s legs and start to tease her labia with my now full erection. I grabbed my cock and gingerly began to slide the head of it up and down Joan’s crack while Roseanne stretched her lips apart by pressing on her hips with her two hands. Every now and then I would jab myself inside Joan’s puffy lips, and pull out again teasingly.

Every time this happened, Joan would gasp, and she could only stand this for a short time. It wasn’t long before she reached up and pulled me right into her and began bucking on the bed under me. It was an exquisite sensation as I felt my cock enter her cunt, and we kissed passionately with our tongues fucking each other’s mouth as we ground our groins hard against each other.

It wasn’t long before I felt Joan’s body go rigid and a flurry of familiar small contractions squeezed my cock. I lay still until Joan’s waves of pleasure had spread all through her body and had finally subsided, leaving her limp on the bed.

Roseanne waited patiently, and then, “Next! Derek! On your face! Blindfold!”

I followed orders and was soon in seventh heaven as two pairs of oily hands eliminated knots in my shoulders and legs. Not a word was spoken but I knew the two women were cooperating to give me an ultimate sensual experience. With the blindfold securely covering my eyes, I could only imagine which pair of hands was whose.

A short pause in the action and then I felt a small stream of oil work its way between the cheeks of my ass, followed by a gentle finger massaging my prostate and making short inroads right into my anus. I knew now it was Joan and I groaned loudly, over and over, as her finger brought incredible feelings of pleasure which spread outwards through my entire body.

“Turn over!” whispered a voice in my ear.

My cock was now resting straight up on my stomach when I felt it being lifted and then enveloped in a warm and wet environment, sucked, licked, nibbled, sucked harder, my balls gently pulled and caressed, my anus still tickled and pressed; I lasted as long as I could, but soon there came the time when I knew I just had to cum. I started to lift my groin up to fuck that incredible mouth and the women knew that I was ready for the final stretch. I felt an oily hand start to pump my cock with a furious tempo and then as my balls tensed and that inevitable, unstoppable sensation rose up, I exploded in a burst of utmost fulfillment and hot, sticky sperm spread in gobs over my stomach.

“Oh my God, that’s too much.” It was Roseanne talking. “Do you mind if I take care of myself now?”

“Go ahead, my dear, you deserve it,” said Joan and passed her the little vibrator she had been using for the past two weeks.

Roseanne lay on the bed with her legs spread, rapidly flicking her fingers over her clitoris and pressing the vibrator against her vagina. Her breath came in short, hoarse bursts.

“Derek! Sit here - quick! I want to see your cock.” She spoke with her teeth clenched, her neck muscles tight and her body rocking from side to side.

I sat on one side of the bed showing off my still thick and sticky member and Joan sat on the other side, playing with Roseanne’s nipples.

The sight of Roseanne’s fingers disappearing in and out of her slit, between the dense bush of that brilliant red hair, was just too wonderful a sight not to preserve on film. I reached for the camera once again and, setting it to ‘movie,’ recorded the moment when Roseanne reached her climax and screamed “Oh God!” easily loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

As we parted towards our different flights, Joan had a question.

“Roseanne, where do you work as a masseuse?”

“I just got a new position. I’ll be handling the ‘private club’ clients at a place called The Rubb Inn down in San Diego. Ever go down that way?”
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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