I Let Some Strangers Watch Me on the Beach

The cabin we rented stood beside a dirt road, hidden among palm trees, and from there we could walk to a line of almost-empty beaches. Mateo and I had planned the trip for months, and the first few days were exactly what we needed: sleeping late, eating fresh fish, and not talking to anyone. But what I truly remember, what still makes me close my eyes and slip my hand between my legs when I’m alone, happened one morning on a beach we found by accident.

It was ten o’clock, and the sun was already beating down hard. We were following the coast when we saw a completely deserted stretch of sand disappearing into the vegetation in the distance. We didn’t hesitate. We left the car off the road, walked for a while, and settled in. There was no one around. Everything was quiet, except for the sound of the waves, and we relaxed right away.

We took out a few beers and took things easy. After a while people began to appear, but far away: a foreign couple, some local fisherman passing by and waving, solitary men walking along the shore and continuing on their way. Everyone kept a good distance. We knew they were there, they knew we were there, but no one stared too much.

I had lain facedown on the towel, my back in the sun and the tie of my top undone. Mateo began to tease me. He caressed my back, moved down over my waist, slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of my panties, and squeezed my ass between laughs, telling me I was never going to tan properly that way, that I had to turn over.

“Turn over,” he insisted. “The sun’s perfect.”

I turned, holding my top against my chest with one crossed arm. He was looking at me with that smile I know far too well, the one that appears when something is circling around in his head.

“Would you fulfill a fantasy for me?” he finally asked.

“Depends,” I said, even though I already knew I was going to say yes.

“Take off your top. Right here. And stay still, as if you were sleeping. Let people pass and see your tits.”

That was what the whole thing was about.

I thought about it for a second. Then, without saying anything, I let my top slide to one side of the towel and settled onto my back, eyes closed and arms relaxed. The breeze touched my bare nipples, making them hard all at once, and my heart began to beat differently. I felt my pussy growing wet beneath the tiny scrap of bikini fabric. Mateo could hardly contain himself. He was practically bouncing with excitement, whispering that I looked incredible, that I had the best tits in the world, that he was dying to fuck me right there.

***

People began to pass by. I didn’t look; I only listened: footsteps on the wet sand, conversations that cut off as they approached, the sudden silence of someone noticing something and pretending not to. Mateo narrated everything to me in a low voice.

“They’re looking at you,” he said. “That guy froze. I looked back at him and he pretended not to. Oh, that other one’s rubbing his cock through his shorts, look, look.”

He told me he had a brutal erection, that he couldn’t stand it, that his shorts were about to burst. I reached out without opening my eyes and confirmed it was true: his cock was hard as a rock, throbbing against the fabric. Then I sat up a little and asked him to show it to me. He lowered his shorts just enough, and his cock sprang out, swollen, the shiny head with a thick drop beading at the tip. I draped a towel over his legs, slipped my hand underneath, and gripped his cock firmly. I began jerking him off slowly, squeezing the shaft from top to bottom, running my thumb over the head and spreading his precum all over it while I whispered in his ear.

“Do you like people seeing me like this, baby?” I asked him. “Anyone who passes by staring at my tits and imagining fucking me? Do you like thinking they’ll go home and jerk off thinking about your girlfriend?”

He only moaned, head thrown back, biting his lip. I ran my tongue over his ear and kept pumping his cock beneath the towel, faster now, squeezing him at the base and pulling upward. Mateo usually comes quickly when I give him more filth than he can handle, but that time he lasted a little longer, drawing out every caress, thrusting his hips against my fist.

“Spit on it,” he whispered. “Spit on it and keep going.”

I filled my mouth with saliva, gathered the spit with my free hand, and let it fall onto his glans. My palm slid stickily, and he let out a hoarse moan that he had to muffle against my shoulder. I kept working him, now with both hands: one at the base, squeezing and gently tugging his balls, the other twisting around the head, drenching the entire shaft with saliva.

In the distance I saw a man approaching, jogging along the shore. He was barefoot, wearing shorts, his shirt tucked into his waistband. As he drew closer, I could make him out more clearly: a fit body, dark skin gleaming with sweat, broad shoulders, the bulge outlined beneath his wet shorts. I thought he was gorgeous. Everything inside me tightened as I imagined that body on top of me. I kept masturbating Mateo, but more discreetly now, because my mind was somewhere else, imagining the jogger fucking me from behind while I sucked my boyfriend’s cock. The man passed, looking at me for just an instant, his eyes quickly traveling over me—the tits exposed, the nipples standing hard—before he continued on. I suppose he was used to seeing women topless. But I liked being looked at. I felt that mixture of nerves and excitement that comes from being with a stranger for the first time, and my pussy suddenly soaked through.

“That one just saw all of me,” I whispered to Mateo, squeezing his cock harder, “and he was absolutely delicious. I would’ve sucked his cock right here in front of you.”

At that moment I felt him coming. His cock grew even harder, his balls tightened, and I began pumping him incredibly fast. He came in spurts beneath the towel, his whole body contracting, and I squeezed out every last drop, feeling the hot semen run between my fingers. I finished him between the towel and my hand, all the way to the end, wringing his shaft, and he fell back exhausted, his cock still throbbing and dripping in my fist. I ran my finger over my lips and sucked some of the semen—salty, thick—and he laughed when he saw me before closing his eyes. I stayed there, burning and half-finished, my pussy swollen and throbbing between my legs, frustrated while he breathed deeply and began to fall asleep.

***

People kept passing by. Now they looked at me more, smiling at me, and I smiled back. Some muttered obscenities as they went by—“Nice tits, baby,” one said very quietly; others made gestures I didn’t even understand. I didn’t care. Mateo had fallen asleep, and the heat was beginning to annoy me, but what bothered me more was the arousal I was left with. So I got up and walked toward the water. Topless. It felt delicious, incredibly free, my tits swaying in the open air with every step, the bottom of my bikini soaked, I didn’t know whether from sweat or from how wet I was.

I like going into the sea and standing there, letting the waves hit my back, or floating on my back and allowing my body to move on its own. I was there alone, the cool water licking my erect nipples, when I saw one of the two men who had been settled about fifty meters from us approaching. He came toward me at an easy pace. He was tall and slim, with short, fair hair, in his early thirties. Attractive, with the relaxed confidence of someone in no hurry.

He stopped a few yards away. I could feel him looking at me, and every time I faced him I caught him watching my chest, though he immediately lifted his face and smiled as if nothing had happened.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied, amused.

“Swimming alone? Doesn’t it scare you a little?”

“Not at all. It relaxes me enormously. It feels really good.”

Every time he finished a sentence, his eyes dropped back to my wet tits. We talked for a while. He told me he was on vacation with his brother, the one waving to us from shore. I told him I had come with my boyfriend, who was sleeping over there on the towel, exhausted, and I couldn’t help smiling as I said it, thinking about why he was so exhausted.

The brother began gesturing for him to come back, and the man with me waved back, signaling for him to come over. Then he took another step toward me.

“You have a beautiful body,” he said, with such frankness that it made me laugh. “Do you always bathe like this?”

“Thanks. But you’ve only seen me from the waist up,” I replied. “Like what?”

I knew perfectly well what he meant, but I wanted him to say it.

***

The brother came swimming over. He was a little more solidly built, with the same tanned skin and a more brazen smile. He didn’t introduce himself. He barely looked at my face: his eyes were fixed on my tits, undisguised, staring at my hard nipples as if he wanted to bite them right there. The first man, by contrast, maintained a more careful, almost gentlemanly air.

“Like this, naked,” the more polite one insisted. “Swimming naked.”

“Who said I’m naked?” I laughed. “I have the bottom half on.”

As we talked, I looked the two of them over unhurriedly. I liked how tanned they were, their slim but firm bodies, and most of all I liked looking at the bulges beneath the water, seeing their hard cocks outlined against the fabric of their shorts. The alcohol and sun had already put me in another state, relaxed and daring at the same time, thinking things I normally wouldn’t allow myself to think. I imagined both of them on top of me, one putting it in my pussy while the other made me suck him, wondering how big they were, whether they would come inside me, and laughing inwardly at my own audacity.

“I don’t believe you’re naked,” the brazen brother said, looking for an excuse.

“Come on, check for yourself,” I replied, with a mixture of playfulness and challenge.

I looked toward the shore. Mateo was still asleep. I held out my hand to the first man, the polite one, and took it beneath the water, pressing it against the fabric of my bikini, right over my pussy.

“See? I’m not naked.”

He brushed the fabric carefully, squeezed just a little—enough for me to feel the pressure on my clitoris and let out a sigh—and immediately pulled his hand away, almost shyly. The other man, without my inviting him, offered me his. I took it and guided it toward my hip so he could feel the side of my bikini, but as soon as he confirmed it, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic and caressed my pussy directly, skin against skin, looking me in the eyes with a cool expression and the hint of a smile. He spread my lips with two fingers and ran his thumb over my clitoris, slowly, one circle, two, three. My legs trembled. I held back a moan by clenching my teeth. He slipped in a finger, felt how soaked I was, and his smile widened. I liked his nerve—not so much the caress itself as the sheer audacity of putting his finger in my pussy in front of his brother, with my boyfriend thirty meters away. I met his gaze and made a face at him: you brazen bastard. I slowly took his hand away, smiling, feeling his finger slide out of me dripping wet.

“Yes,” he said calmly, sucking his wet finger in front of me. “You are wearing a bikini. And you’re delicious inside.”

The polite one, unaware of what had just happened underwater, continued with his innocent conversation.

“I could swim naked, you know? But I don’t because my brother’s nearby.”

While he bragged about his courage, the other man and I communicated only with our eyes. The thought of that insolent stranger silently opening my pussy, pushing his finger all the way inside me, and then going on talking as if nothing had happened, with the taste of my pussy still in his mouth, turned me on.

“What game are you two playing?” I said. “You don’t stop looking at me, you touch me, and I’m sure you’re both hard by now.”

They both laughed conspiratorially and admitted, amid the teasing, that I was right.

“The truth is, we saw you go into the water from over there,” the brazen one said, “and you have such delicious tits that of course we got hard. I’ve had a cock hard as a rock for twenty minutes.”

“I didn’t do anything to cause that,” I replied.

“Come on, let me check for myself now.”

***

I took two steps toward them. They stayed still. Beneath the water, one hand for each of them, I touched them slowly through their shorts. They were rock-hard, throbbing. I squeezed them along the length of the fabric, measuring them, and realized the brazen one’s was bigger and thicker. I bit my lip as I looked at them.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s true. You’re both ready. And you’ve got good cocks, too.”

Without thinking too much, I slipped my hands beneath their shorts, one for each, and gripped their cocks directly, skin against skin. They were burning hot. I began masturbating them underwater, slowly, each hand keeping a lazy rhythm, feeling their thighs tense and their breath catch. The polite one turned bright red, nervously glancing toward the shore. The brazen one didn’t even blink, staring straight at me and thrusting his hips against my fist.

“If you want to try it, just ask,” the brazen one murmured hoarsely. “I’ll put it in you right here, standing up, against me. Your boyfriend won’t even notice.”

I felt my pussy gush at the thought. For a second I seriously considered it: pulling my bikini aside, letting him lift me up and drive his cock into me right there, with the water rocking us while his brother sucked one of my tits. But I let go of their cocks and withdrew my hands.

“No, thanks,” I laughed, though my voice came out trembling. “I’d better get going. And you two should, too, I suppose. Go jerk off thinking about me.”

They lowered their faces in almost childish disappointment, their hard cocks outlined beneath their wet shorts, and the three of us began walking toward shore. The polite one went ahead. The other stayed beside me and, without my looking at him, slid his hand over my ass, squeezed it hard, and took one cheek in his palm as if it belonged to him. I pretended not to care, letting him continue simply for the pleasure of feeling someone take what he wanted from my body. There’s something about that—in letting myself be touched out of pure desire, in being a stranger’s whim—that turns me on in a way that’s difficult to explain.

When he dared to slip a finger beneath the fabric and put it straight into my pussy, all the way to the knuckle, I gave a little jump and a laugh escaped me—or rather, a moan disguised as a laugh. He fingered me for a second, pulled it out, and brought it to his mouth. I looked at him and gently took his hand away. Afraid his brother might turn around but unable to restrain himself, he took my wrist and guided it back toward his cock beneath the water. I gave it a light squeeze, no more, amused by his persistence and by how hard he was. I ran my thumb over his swollen glans, felt a thick drop slide between my fingers, and let him go with a smile.

We said goodbye on the shore. They went off in their direction, turning to look back several times, as if something were slipping through their fingers—the brazen one still showing the outline of his cock beneath his shorts. I walked back to where Mateo was still sleeping. I sat beside him, took another beer, and stared out at the sea, my skin still hot, my pussy throbbing, and a smile I couldn’t get rid of. I slipped my hand between my legs inside my bikini and touched myself lightly, feeling how soaked I was, and made myself come in silence, squeezing my thighs together and biting my lip while the sun beat down on my bare tits and Mateo slept beside me without suspecting a thing.

Of everything we experienced on that trip, that morning is the part I keep for myself. Mateo thinks I only tanned and went swimming. I never told him that two strangers fingered my pussy while he snored, or that I came within a step of letting one of them fuck me right there, standing in the water. Sometimes I think about telling him, about seeing his face when he finds out how far his fantasy went. But for now I’d rather keep it to myself, like that warm secret that returns every time I close my eyes and hear, once again, the sound of waves and approaching footsteps.