My First Time as Camila at the Nudist Beach

Camila. That’s what Damián called me when he fucked me, whispering it against my ear like a mantra that made true what my body had always known. To my mother, Marisol, I was still Camilo, her skinny, androgynous son, that soft-featured kid who never quite fit into the wrong body, the boy who avoided soccer games and locked himself away to try on his cousin’s skirts. But in Florianópolis, after three months on hormones that had given me two small, firm breasts, a full body wax, and lingerie that made me feel like a real slut, I was Camila. And Camila needed cock.

My mother’s arrival at the studio apartment we rented in Lagoa was a disaster that ended up becoming liberation. We tried to keep it under control the first night. Damián and I in bed, me face down with my ass up, him already with two fingers inside me, slicked with cheap pharmacy lube. The ring of muscle throbbed, giving way little by little. Marisol came out of the bathroom just as Damián was pushing the thick head of his cock against my sphincter.

She saw me. She saw my ass opening millimeter by millimeter, my little discreet sex dripping onto the sheet. She saw my face of a female in ecstasy and heard the muffled moan that escaped me when Damián split me in two.

I cried. Between sobs I begged her forgiveness for hiding the fact that I was her daughter, that Damián was my man, that I liked being fucked like a woman. Marisol stayed silent for a second. Then she hugged me, naked like I was, and whispered in my ear.

—You’re my daughter, Camila. End of story. I love you the same.

***

The next day, over breakfast, I brought up the nudist beach we’d discovered with some Carioca friends. I told her it was calm, hidden among rocks, that on Mondays there were almost no people. Marisol laughed nervously, playing with the little spoon in her coffee. Damián finished it off without lifting his eyes from the newspaper.

—Being naked among naked people is like being dressed among the dressed. Only everything shows and you appreciate it better.

Marisol hesitated because of her pale skin, because of the areas she had never exposed to the sun. I talked her into it. I packed her bag with high-SPF sunscreen, a big towel, and a straw hat that covered half her face. At forty-four she was still a top-shelf woman: petite, with medium heavy tits that still stood on their own, a narrow waist, and a round, meaty ass that moved like an invitation to grab it as she walked. Completely waxed, just like me. A routine that had started with me when we were secret accomplices, before I had found the words for what I felt.

***

On Monday, before noon, we were already on the hot sand. We undressed behind a rock. Damián walked first toward the sea, thick cock hanging heavy between his thighs. I stayed watching my mother as she took off her dress. Her smooth cunt gleamed under the tropical sun. She didn’t look like my mother. She looked like a woman any man would fuck without asking.

We ran into the water. The waves shoved us back. Damián stood behind the two of us, solid as a wall, his hands resting on our hips. Every time a wave broke, Marisol and I fell against his chest. I felt his arms around me, his fingers grazing my new nipples, his semi-hard cock pressing against my ass cheek. The friction was electric. My mother laughed and let her head fall back, but I could feel her nipples hardening, the way she breathed deeper each time Damián’s hand moved from her waist to her ribs.

Half an hour later, Marisol decided to go to the showers hidden behind the rocks.

—To cool off a little —she said, but the three of us knew it was so she could leave us alone.

***

We watched her walk away, white ass swaying over the warm sand. The second she disappeared behind the rocks, I knelt on the tarp. Damián’s cock was already hard, salty with sea water. I licked it all the way down, swallowing the thick head until my eyes filled with tears. He held my nape with both hands.

—That’s it, my slut. Suck it deep —he growled.

I stood up, we kissed with tongue, and I jerked him off against my flat stomach. His cock throbbed. When I felt he was about to come, I turned around, bent over, and offered him my ass. But Damián had other plans that afternoon.

—Today I’m going to wreck you properly, Camila.

He pulled the tube of lube out of the bag. He put me on my knees on the tarp, ass up, face against the rough fabric. The sun burned my back and my nape. The dilation began.

First a finger. Cold, slippery. He slid it in slowly, twisting it. My ring of muscle contracted, then surrendered with a wet pop.

—Look at your little cunt opening up —he whispered.

Second finger. He scissored them apart. I felt the stretch, the sweet burn turning into hunger. He pushed deeper, curling his fingers until they found my prostate. A jolt ran through my whole spine. My little sex twitched, letting out a long thread of clear liquid.

—Third —he announced.

Three thick fingers opening me. My ass was making obscene, wet noises. My legs were shaking. I was sweating. The sun, the sea, the risk that someone might appear along the path over the rocks or that my mother might come back. Everything made me hotter.

Damián pulled his fingers out. I heard the sound of the lube on his cock. The thick head pressed against my already opened sphincter.

—Breathe, baby girl.

He pushed. The ring gave way with a wet sound. The cock opened me centimeter by centimeter, thick, hot, veined. I felt every vein brushing my walls. The total filling. My ass swallowed him to the base. His heavy balls slapped against mine.

—Fuck, what a tight ass you’ve got, Camila.

He started moving. Slow at first. The friction was brutal. Each pull almost dragged the head out, each thrust split me open again. Then he sped up. The sound of flesh against flesh mixed with the waves and the distant cry of a seagull.

And then he found the perfect angle. The head of his cock slammed straight against my prostate.

—Ah! —I moaned, loud, out of control.

Every thrust was a jolt. Liquid heat rising from the depths of my pelvis. My prostate throbbed. My sex, without anyone touching it, started slobbering nonstop onto the tarp. My legs shook so hard I had to dig my fingers into the fabric to keep from collapsing face-first.

—Tell me, slut. What are you?

—Your woman. Your ass slut. Fuck me harder, Damián.

He picked up the pace. We were both sweating. My ass clenched and released his cock, milking it as if it had a life of its own. The prostate orgasm came first. Deep, long, like a wave that never finished breaking. My whole body convulsed. My legs went weak. A guttural moan tore out of my throat while my prostate exploded in spasms. I still wasn’t cumming, but the pleasure was so intense I saw white patches behind my eyelids.

—I’m milking you, Camila. Look at you dripping.

My little sex went rigid and started shooting. It wasn’t a hard spurt. It was a steady drip, clear thick cream coming out in gushes without anyone touching it. The double climax broke me. Prostate orgasm stretching on and on, mixed with the ejaculation. I lost all sense of time. Only his cock opening me, my ass throbbing, my seed soaking the tarp beneath my stomach existed.

Damián couldn’t hold out any longer. He yanked his cock out and painted my ass and back with thick, hot spurts. I collapsed onto the tarp, shaking, my anus open and pulsing, spitting air and mixed lube.

***

We washed off quickly in the sea, both of us laughing like teenagers. As soon as we got out of the water, we saw her.

Marisol was in the water too, almost up to her neck, her legs wrapped around the waist of a tall Brazilian, broad shoulders, dark skin shining with salt. He was holding her by the ass. They were moving slowly, discreetly, as if they were talking. My mother’s face was buried in the dark man’s neck. When they finished, she lowered her feet to the sandy bottom and they walked hand in hand toward the rocks at the end of the beach.

Damián and I went back to the tarp without saying a word. We waited.

Marisol came back alone half an hour later, smiling, cheeks flushed and her hair still wet, stuck to her back. She sat on her towel and opened a book she didn’t read. Damián handed her a bottle of water and she took it without looking up, still wearing that little smile no one could wipe off her face. The three of us got dressed in silence when the sun began to drop and the sand turned copper-colored.

As we walked back to the car along the rocky path, I asked her in a low voice.

—Did you like the little beach?

She smiled, without looking at me, adjusting her hat.

—Very much. At the far end of the beach I saw the stars in broad daylight.

Nothing else needed to be said. I could still feel my ass full, throbbing, Damián’s cum drying between my cheeks under the light dress. And for the first time in many years, the three of us knew exactly who we were and what we wanted.

Camila. Their daughter. Damián’s slut. And now, finally, free.