What Happened on the Nude Beach with My Best Friend

My name is Daniela and I’m thirty-three years old. My best friend is called Romina and she’s thirty-one, though when we’re together we both go back to feeling like a couple of teenagers who have just discovered what it means to want someone without asking permission.

We’ve known each other since university. With her I learned a lot of things nobody taught me at home: not to be ashamed of my body, to talk about sex without lowering my voice, to touch myself without guilt. Romina was the first person with whom I truly felt free, and over time that trust turned into something more.

Because we’re not just friends. We’re lovers too. We have been for years, even when each of us had our own relationship. We never stopped seeking each other out, sending each other messages at midnight, sneaking off to a hotel when routine weighed too heavily on us.

More than once we fantasized out loud about taking it a step further. We talked about swapping partners, sharing a man, letting someone watch us. They were bed talks, whispers between laughs that never left the realm of imagination. Until that summer.

Romina had just ended a long relationship, and the breakup had left her dulled. I couldn’t stand seeing her like that, with that smile that no longer reached her eyes. So I came up with a trip. Just the two of us, far from everything, somewhere nobody knew us.

—What if we go to the coast? —I said one afternoon, while we drank wine on my terrace—. To a quiet place, no schedules, nobody telling us anything.

She looked at me over the rim of her glass.

—Are you talking about the beach everybody talks about? —she asked, and for the first time in weeks I saw a spark in her eyes.

—That one —I replied.

The place was called Caleta Mansa, a stretch of coast famous for its liberal atmosphere and its uninhibited people. We’d heard stories of couples disappearing among the dunes, of beaches where clothing was optional and nobody batted an eye. It was exactly what we needed.

***

On the first day we didn’t even go out to see the town. We arrived at the hostel after noon, dropped our bags on the floor, and threw ourselves onto the bed before even unpacking. The distance and the waiting had built up a hunger we couldn’t contain.

We spent the whole afternoon indulging each other. I know her body by heart, every mole, every spot that makes her tremble, and still I’m always surprised by how intensely she reacts when I touch her slowly. It was slow, passionate, and tender, the way it can only be between two people who know each other down to the last corner.

That night we slept wrapped in each other’s arms, legs tangled together and with the silent promise that the next day we would go looking for something more.

Because that had been our decision before leaving: this trip wasn’t only for us. We wanted to try what we’d imagined so many times. We wanted to feel a stranger’s gaze, maybe something more than a gaze.

***

The second day dawned with a clear plan. While we were having coffee and fruit on the hostel terrace, we said it without beating around the bush.

—Today we go hunting —Romina joked, biting into a slice of mango.

—Today we let ourselves be hunted —I corrected her, and we both laughed.

We chose the boldest swimsuits we had packed. I put on an olive-green bikini, the kind that covers very little. The top was two tiny triangles held together by thin straps tied at the neck and back, leaving almost everything on display. The bottom was a minimal thong, cut high over the hips to lengthen the legs, held in place by just two strings at the sides.

Romina chose a similar one, green with pink trim, even smaller than mine. When she finished tying it and turned to face the mirror, we both fell silent for a second.

—We’re going to cause an accident —I murmured, looking her up and down.

—That’s the idea —she replied, winking at me.

We went out to walk along the shore under a hard, blazing sun. We didn’t have to wait long to notice the effect. Men turned their heads as we passed, some discreetly, others with no intention of hiding it at all. Feeling those gazes travel over our bodies turned us on more than any caress. We walked slowly, aware we were being watched, playing with our hips, enjoying the power that comes from knowing you’re desired.

At a drinks stand we overheard some travelers talking about a secluded stretch of coast beyond the rocks, where—according to them—things happened. A hidden beach, almost always empty, where people went to lose themselves. We looked at each other without needing to say anything. That’s where we went, after first taking off the tops of our bikinis and leaving them hanging from our hands, because that whole stretch was nudist and nobody was going to be scandalized.

***

The hidden stretch turned out to be even quieter than we’d imagined. A small cove sheltered by a wall of rocks, with fine sand and calm sea. There wasn’t a single soul there.

—What a disappointment —Romina said, looking around—. So much rumor for nothing.

—Well —I answered, dropping the towel onto the sand—, since we’re alone, we’re not going to waste the place.

I took her by the nape and kissed her. It was a long kiss, the kind that starts slowly and ends breathless. Her hands slid down my back until she undid the last knot I still had on, and I did the same with her. Within minutes we were naked on the towel, skin against skin, with the heat of the sun and the heat of our bodies blending into one.

Romina is loud. She always has been, and since we were alone she didn’t bother holding back. I laid her down on the sand and kissed my way down her neck, her breasts, her stomach, until I reached where I knew she was waiting for me. She loves the oral sex I give her, and that morning, with the sea breeze and the feeling of doing something forbidden in broad daylight, she came faster than usual. Her moans bounced off the rocks.

Then it was my turn. She asked me to turn over and took her time, tracing my entire body with her tongue, unhurried, until she made me arch my back. I didn’t hold back either. I screamed, I moaned, I said her name. At that moment I didn’t care who might hear us.

And it turned out someone did hear us.

***

It was when I opened my eyes that I saw them. Two silhouettes outlined against the light, peeking out from between the rocks, a few meters from us. Two young men, no more than twenty, watching us without moving, as if they feared that the slightest gesture might scare us away.

—Romina —I whispered, without stopping moving—, they’re watching us.

She barely turned her head, spotted them, and instead of covering herself she dug her nails into my back.

—Don’t stop —she gasped—. Let them watch. I want them to watch.

Knowing that we were being watched changed everything. The idea we had so often cherished in the darkness of a bedroom was becoming real in front of us. We raised the volume on purpose, exaggerating every moan, offering ourselves up as a show for those two strangers who didn’t dare come closer.

At one point I met one of their gazes. I didn’t look away. On the contrary, I held his eyes with a smile that was a clear invitation, shameless, leaving no room for misunderstanding. The two boys looked at each other, and as if that look of mine had given them permission, they started walking toward us.

I confess: for a second I felt afraid. We were alone, naked, on a secluded beach with two strangers. But fear mixed with arousal in a way I couldn’t stop. We kept going. They sat nearby, without saying a word, and began to undress too.

What they had between their legs finished setting me on fire. Watching them masturbate while they looked at us, breathing hard, was too much. I closed my eyes for an instant to catch my breath, and when I opened them again I found an image I hadn’t expected: Romina had already moved over to them and had both of them in her mouth, alternating, completely surrendered.

She looked up at me, with a naughty smile, and just said:

—Are you joining in?

***

I didn’t need her to insist. I crawled across the sand until I was beside her, and from that point on we stopped thinking. We shared the two boys between us, swapped them around, laughed together like partners in a mischief, looked them in the eye while we did what we had fantasized about so many times.

It was messy and chaotic, all hands, mouths, and sweat-soaked bodies under the sun. The boys barely spoke; they were so stunned by their luck that they just let themselves be carried along. Romina and I, meanwhile, communicated without words, as always, reading each other in every gesture, taking turns, guiding one another.

For a good while we were four strangers sharing a morning none of us would forget. When it was all over, the boys got dressed, thanked us with a shyness that contrasted with what had just happened, and disappeared among the rocks they had come through.

Romina and I stayed a while longer, lying on the towel, staring at the blue roof of the sky.

—Was the trip worth it? —I asked her, reaching for her hand in the sand.

She turned to me, and at last the smile reached her eyes.

—Every kilometer —she replied, and gave me a kiss that tasted of salt and complicity.

We went back to the hostel hand in hand, our skin tight from the sun and a new feeling settled in our chests. We had crossed a line that for years had existed only in our imagination, and in doing so we discovered that fantasy, when fulfilled between the right people, doesn’t break anything: it only makes it bigger.

That night, already in bed, we remembered it step by step between laughter and caresses. And before falling asleep, we both knew that this trip was not going to be the last.