What Happened in the Cove While They Watched Me

That July morning was the kind that looks hand-painted, with a sky without a single cloud and the sea so still it could have been mistaken for glass. Marcos, my husband, suggested we head down to our usual cove, the one hidden away after an hour’s drive and a half-hour walk along a dusty trail. It was a nudist cove, although I never strip completely. I usually lie there topless and in a tiny thong, white if I want to draw attention, beige if I’d rather go unnoticed. That day I chose white.

I’m Carla, I’m thirty-three, blonde, and my hair reaches the middle of my back. I’m not going to pretend to be modest: I have big tits that turn heads and an ass that wins over half the beach just by existing. I say that without pride and without shame. It’s a fact, like saying I wear contact lenses or that I prefer my coffee without sugar.

We got down to the sandy beach around eleven. There was nobody there except for a guy lying at the far end, far away, with a hat over his face. He barely moved when we passed him. I took off my sheer dress and lay on my back, my tits in the sun and my dark sunglasses on. Marcos dove into the water right away. I closed my eyes and let the heat lull me.

Almost an hour passed before I heard footsteps in the sand. Slow steps, two pairs. I didn’t open my eyes. Sometimes the most exciting thing about that cove was exactly that: not knowing who had just arrived, not knowing whether they were looking at me, not knowing what they were thinking when they saw me. I rolled onto my side and let my hip sit higher than my waist, a pose I knew perfectly: my ass lifted, my thong wedged between my cheeks, my nipples showing beneath my arm.

When I lifted my gaze a little over my sunglasses, I saw them. A man of about fifty-five, gray-haired and with the sun-browned back of many summers, and a young blond guy with a smile that looked too big for his mouth. The older one went into the water without saying hello. The younger one dropped his towel barely two meters from me. On purpose. I knew it immediately.

I pretended not to notice. I closed my eyes again, but I was no longer relaxed. I could feel his eyes like two invisible hands tracing every centimeter of exposed skin. The sun burned my nipples, my stomach, the curve of my waist. And yet what really burned me was knowing he was there, sitting in silence, watching me. I felt my cunt getting wet under the thong, the white cotton sticking to my lips and hinting at the line of my slit. I made no effort to hide it.

“Any little birds today?” I heard the guy ask the older man, who was already in the water.

“I think so,” he answered from the sea.

I propped myself up slowly, letting my tits stay fully on display, heavy, with nipples hard as stones from all the sun and all the staring. The guy didn’t look away for a second. He had green eyes and he was biting his lower lip without even trying to hide it. I felt the air between us charge with something electric, as if a tiny storm were forming over the sand.

The older man started talking to Marcos from the water. Something about the car, something about a battery problem that had been giving them trouble for weeks. Marcos nodded with that look he gets when he enjoys being asked for help. Then the younger man stood up, and when he did, I lost my breath. I’m not exaggerating. He was wearing a tiny pair of swim briefs and, beneath the tight fabric, a cock that looked like it didn’t fit anywhere, outlined from top to bottom, the tip pressed against his thigh, the obscene bulge obvious. Unintentionally, his eyes met mine and he smiled, aware of what he had just shown me.

“Carla, do you mind if I go with them to the parking lot?” Marcos said as he came out of the water. “Their car is dead, and I’ve got the starter in the glove box.”

“Don’t worry, go on,” I replied, trying not to let my voice shake.

The young man, who had introduced himself as Iván, raised a hand.

“I’ll stay. I came here to swim and haven’t had time yet.”

“Perfect,” said the older man, whose name was Ramón.

Marcos put on his flip-flops and started up the path with Ramón. His figure quickly shrank behind the first rock. The cove was left empty, except for me and that stranger who now had no reason to pretend.

“Going in?” Iván asked me.

The water reached my chest. Iván stayed a couple of steps away, watching me as if sizing me up. He started talking with that easy confidence young guys have when they know they’re desired.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, bluntly. “Why don’t you take the thong off? This is a nudist cove.”

“I’m shy,” I replied with a smile.

“You’ve got nothing to hide.”

“And nothing to show to a stranger.”

He laughed. So did I, and I surprised myself by not having laughed like that with a man who wasn’t my husband in far too long. Under the water, I saw his briefs bulge again, as if my laughter had been a caress.

“I’m getting out,” I said, turning toward the shore.

I came out of the water slowly, knowing he was behind me. Knowing every drop sliding down my back was landing somewhere he was memorizing. I lay face down on the towel, this time without restraint, my legs barely apart, the white thong turned into a wet string sinking between my cheeks. If he wanted to look, he could look properly. And he did.

***

I heard him come out of the water a couple of minutes later. When he approached, I looked up over my shoulder and, this time, I didn’t pretend I hadn’t noticed. He was wearing wet, almost transparent swim briefs, and through them his entire cock was outlined, thick, long, bent to one side by the pressure of the fabric. It wasn’t going down. It wasn’t going to go down.

“Something hurts,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“My neck,” I answered, because it was true. “I slept funny.”

“I’m a physio. If you want, I can work out a couple of knots.”

I laughed. So did he. But his hands were already on my shoulders, cold from the water, strong. He started pressing the back of my neck with his thumbs, slowly, searching for the exact point where muscle tangled with tension.

“I can’t reach properly like this,” he said after a minute. “I’m going to get on top.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. I felt the weight of his body settle over mine, his knees on either side of my waist, and above the white thong, that hard, hot, alive cock pressed right against my asshole, separated from my skin by little more than the wet fabric of his swim briefs. He didn’t say anything about it. Neither did I. But we both knew what was happening. I felt it throbbing against me, once, twice, setting the rhythm of my heartbeat.

His hands slid down my shoulder blades, my waist, my sides until they brushed the sides of my tits flattened against the towel. Every time he leaned his weight forward, his cock pressed harder against my ass, and I felt my cunt opening inside, filling with a hollow that wanted to be filled.

“Do you like it?” he murmured near my ear after a while kneading my back.

“The massage, yes,” I answered, and I couldn’t bring myself to add anything else.

“And the other thing?”

I took a while to answer.

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“Then don’t,” he said, and started sliding his finger under the thong elastic, along my hip, slowly, tracing the path his eyes had been following for a while.

I thought about Marcos. About the steep path, the heat in the parking lot, how far away he was. He won’t be back for at least half an hour. I thought about what I’d spent years imagining when I lay on that same towel, fantasizing about being surprised by someone. I thought about Iván, his early twenties, his cock pressed against my ass, his fingers now venturing lower, slipping in from the side of the thong to brush the wetness I’d been building between my legs for half an hour.

“Just the massage,” I said, in a voice that didn’t sound like mine.

“Just the massage,” he repeated, and sank one finger an inch into my soaked cunt.

We were both lying.

***

He lowered my thong with the same slow care as unwrapping a gift. I was still face down, my face resting on my forearm, and I felt the cove’s air crash against skin that hadn’t felt this exposed in years. Iván said nothing. He just kept massaging, now lower, over my lower back, over the base of my ass, over my thighs. He spread my cheeks with his thumbs, unhurried, and I felt the cool air reaching all the way into my most hidden place.

“Open your legs a little,” he asked.

I opened them.

What came next wasn’t a massage. It was something else. It was his fingers brushing first from the outside, two fingers sliding up and down my cunt lips, soaking instantly. It was his middle finger sinking all the way in, knuckle deep, while his thumb found my clit and pressed it in slow circles. It was my hip arching on its own against his hand, wanting more. It was two fingers, then three, going in and out with a wet sound that bounced off the rocks. It was my breathing speeding up against the towel, biting my forearm so I wouldn’t moan too loudly. It was knowing that, from the rock on the left, anyone who peeked around could see us, see me spread wide and face down with a stranger’s hand sunk to the wrist in my cunt. And for some reason I couldn’t explain, that idea turned me on even more.

Then he crouched and I felt his tongue. He wasn’t delicate. He pulled my ass cheeks apart completely, opened my cunt with two fingers and ate me from behind, his tongue going in and out, moving up to the other hole, licking me everywhere, leaving no fold unexplored. I grabbed his hair over his shoulder and pressed his head against me. I came for the first time like that, face down, with my face buried in the towel and his tongue buried in my clit, a long tremor rising from my feet to the top of my head.

“Turn over,” he said.

I rolled onto my back. The sun blinded me for a second and, when I opened my eyes again, he was over me. No swim briefs. No pretense. The cock I had been sensing for half an hour was even more impossible up close: thick at the base, long, with the vein standing out from top to bottom and the purple tip ready to burst. I thought it wasn’t going to fit. I thought I didn’t want it to fit. I thought about Marcos again for half a second, and then I stopped thinking.

He put it in my face first. I opened my mouth without being asked. He went in slowly, his hand on the back of my neck, and filled me completely until I felt the tip stabbing at my throat. I sucked him off while holding his ass with both hands, keeping time for him. I closed my eyes and opened them again to look at him, to make sure it was him fucking my mouth in that cove, with my husband half an hour away. A thread of saliva ran down my chin to my tits. He smeared it with his thumb over my nipples, marking them.

“Lie back all the way,” he said.

He positioned himself between my legs. He lifted them, one over each shoulder, and opened me so wide I felt the skin inside my thighs stretch tight. He entered me slowly, looking me in the eyes, holding my gaze as if he wanted to make sure this was no accident. It wasn’t. I felt him open me centimeter by centimeter, burning, stretching a cunt that had grown used for years to the same size. I brought a hand to my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. He pulled it away.

“I want to hear you,” he said.

And he heard me.

He started fucking me slowly, measuring all the way to the bottom, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the balls. I dug my nails into his back. Then he sped up. Every thrust made my tits bounce, every hard smack of his hips against mine kicked up sand. He changed my position without pulling out: he put me on all fours facing the sea, and there, with my knees sunk into the hot sand, he rammed into me from behind again, gripping my waist, spanking my ass in blows that echoed against the rocks. I pressed my face into the towel and moaned uncontrollably, biting my lips, feeling my cunt clench on its own every time he drove all the way in.

“Come again,” he ordered, his fingers sunk into the flesh of my hips.

I came. With a scream that must have been heard all the way to the parking lot. My arms gave out and I was left with my ass in the air and my face pressed to the towel while he kept pounding me, faster, panting harder and harder behind me.

“Where,” I managed to ask.

“Not inside,” he said, and pulled out just in time.

I turned around in a rush, knelt in the sand, and opened my mouth for him. He came in spurts, the first on my tongue, the second splashing across my face from cheek to forehead, the rest falling on my tits, my neck, my chin. I sucked the tip clean to the last drop, holding him with both hands, looking into his eyes. I was covered in cum, kneeling in front of a stranger in an empty cove, and I didn’t feel the slightest bit of shame. Only a hot pulse between my legs and an absurd urge to laugh.

***

After that we went into the water. I needed the cold of the sea to come to terms with the fact that it had happened, to wash the cum off my face and tits before Marcos came back. Iván followed me and, in the water, found me again. His cock was hard again, barely five minutes later, and he pressed it against my belly as soon as he got close. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt how, without even guiding it with his hand, he found the opening of my cunt and drove back in to the hilt. I let the current rock us, hanging from his neck while he fucked me slowly in the sea, each wave pushing us, each shove sinking him a little deeper into me. Over his shoulder I looked at the rock on the left. I would have sworn I saw a shadow moving among the brush. Maybe Ramón had come back earlier than expected. Maybe he’d been there longer than either of us suspected. Maybe he had been watching from the start, maybe he’d been jerking off hidden behind the rock while the guy opened me up on the towel. The idea, instead of scaring me, pulled me tighter against Iván, made me clamp down on his cock until I heard him growl in my ear.

We didn’t speak again. There was no need. I came again hanging from him, biting his shoulder so I wouldn’t scream, and felt him empty himself a second time, this one inside me, deep, with a long shudder that filled me completely.

When, after quite a while, I saw Marcos’s silhouette appearing at the top of the slope, I grabbed Iván’s shoulder like someone clinging to a wave about to break.

“You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had,” I whispered, and he smiled without answering.

I ran out of the water, cum dripping down my thigh, hidden by the salt water. The white thong was where Iván had left it, balled up beside the towel. I put it on quickly, feeling every inch of fabric pull me back into the life I’d had before that morning, and feeling how the warm wetness inside soaked the cotton underneath. Iván came out after me, calm, as if nothing had happened.

“All set, it starts now!” Marcos shouted from the slope.

“Great!” I called back, my voice steady, without a single tremor.

Iván gathered his things, kissed me on the cheek, too close to the corner of my lips, and said goodbye with that smile young guys have when they know they get the last word.

“I’ll be around here next week,” he said quietly, just for me.

I didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway.

When we climbed up the trail, Marcos asked if I’d been bored. I told him no, that I’d taken the opportunity to sunbathe and go for a couple of swims. He nodded, happy to have helped those two poor men with their car. The sand was still hot under my feet, the wet thong stuck between my legs, and Iván’s cum kept dripping inside me with every step. And somewhere behind the rock, I felt that shadow again. Maybe Iván. Maybe Ramón. Maybe nobody. Maybe the whole cove, which now held a secret known only to the sea and me.