It was Laura, though, who found a solution to our dilemma of craving an outing but fearing other people. I could hear her chirping over my wife's phone: "The Internet"—which I can only assume she accessed via wi-fi, I might add—"says this is the most secluded beach within hundreds of miles, and it's only an hour away. It's hot in my house. Let's go for a picnic."
Maia and I were already in our swimwear, soaking up the morning heat by our pool, so we readily agreed. "Pete and I will pick you up," Maia said. They were at our house within minutes, and we had a pleasant, winding drive out to the coast. We found a spot on the side of the road among a small handful of cars near a nondescript mile marker and unloaded our picnic gear. Pete, like me, was in his swim trunks and a t-shirt. He was of medium height, with a floppy tuft of sandy brown hair. Maia had pulled a pair of shorts and a loose top over her bikini. Laura wore what my wife had informed me was a "beach cover-up," a loose, formless dress-like thing that a woman could wear over her swimwear. It billowed in the wind.
It was, frankly, exactly what I would have guessed Laura would wear. She favored corduroy pants and bulky sweaters, even when the weather turned warm, and even when we went to dressier events she tended to wear pants and a loose-fitting collared shirt. I didn't think she was unattractive—she had a pretty face, even though she never wore makeup and she wore her hair in a fairly plain shoulder-length ‘do. It was that I couldn't tell whether she was attractive, because I had no idea what her body might look like under all of those layers of formless clothes. It occurred to me, watching her walk ahead of me wrapped in what might have been an acre of fabric, that she had never so much as brought a swimsuit to our backyard barbecues.
It was about a half-mile walk to the beach on a sandy path that eventually crested some dunes. The beach was a small crescent shape ringed by high dune hills. Between the dunes were small alcove-like patches that were perfect for a group of four looking for seclusion. We followed the beach around for a while until we found one the right size for our two blankets.
We unpacked our lunch and stripped down to our swimsuits. Maia wore a strapless white-and-yellow floral bikini. Laura wore a navy one-piece that I thought might well have been her high-school swim team suit, as utilitarian as it was. Still, I was pleasantly surprised. She had more of an hourglass figure than I expected, with a trim waist, an athletic fleshy behind, and round breasts just shy of what I'd call large. Her legs were toned (and shaven, which I wouldn't have bet on).
"What?" she said to me, not in a friendly way.
"Sorry," I said. "I didn't, uh, I was just a little surprised. You look like a swimmer."
"An hour of laps at the club three times a week," she said, still looking at me sideways. "Or at least I did, before the pandemic. And I can't wait to get in the water again. Pete, come be my lifeguard?" She turned and walked toward the ocean, her husband following behind her.
Once they were out of earshot, Maia cuffed me gently around the ear. "What was that about? You can't leer at my prude friend."
"I didn't mean to," I said. "I just thought she'd have a beer belly or something, the way she dresses all the time."
"Laura? God, no, she's hot. You see those tits? I'd trade in a heartbeat."
"No need for that," I said, giving her bikini-clad butt a pinch. "I can work with what you've got. Don't get jealous."
"You know I won't," Maia said. I knew what she meant. She and I had recently had a wild night where we ended up playing musical partners with some friends, and we had talked about trying it again. We just hadn't figured out how to raise it with them. You can't just call somebody up and say "I had a great time fucking your spouse, can I pop around and do it again?" Or maybe you could. Nobody had sent us the rule book yet.
Maia and I helped each other with sunscreen and then made ourselves comfortable on our blanket. She opened a paperback while I watched the water. If I'm being honest, I was scanning the ocean for Laura, but I couldn't pick her out of the waves. I was startled by a couple of men walking by, though. They didn't break stride, but they stared right at me for a moment.
"Hey, Maia," I said. She looked up and saw what I saw. "Ohhh," she said. "So it's a nude beach." Sure enough, within the next twenty minutes, a half-dozen naked men had walked past.
Laura and Pete returned soon. "Uh, guys, did you see what kind of beach we're on?" Laura asked.
"Yeah, a nude beach," I said.
"A nude gay beach, I think," Laura responded. "I think we should leave," she said.
"Why?" I said. "I don't have any problem with gay dudes, and they're not bothering us here."
"I just think they might want their privacy," Laura said.
Maia laughed. "Laura, I'm guessing that if they wanted privacy, they wouldn't have gotten naked on a public beach. Now let's have lunch." As we ate, Laura kept at it. "It doesn't bother you? Them walking around nude?"
"Why would it?" I asked. "I see naked guys in the locker room every week," I said. "And they see me."
"Yeah, but context is everything," she said. "You'd freak out if people were naked, like, in everyday situations."
"I'm pretty sure I wouldn't," I said, thinking back to a few months earlier, when I was having sex with my wife's friends in my living room while their husbands took turns drilling my wife. But Maia interjected: "Laura, it's no big deal. I was thinking of going nude myself."
"You wouldn't."
"I was thinking that it might help, actually. With the dirty looks we're getting from the passers-by. Would it bother you?"
Laura looked scandalized, but she waved it off. "Fine," she said. "Don't let me stand in your way."
"Great," Maia said. "Then I'm going for a swim." She stood up and briskly doffed her suit, then trudged off toward the water, saying hello to an older man passing by. I happily watched her go. I enjoyed the faint bikini-bottom-shaped tan lines on her rear end, the pale pink triangle imprinted on her butt, surrounded by tanner flesh. She disappeared with barely a splash into the salty spray. I looked up every now and then, and once saw her talking to a couple of youngish men.
Maia came back a few minutes later. "I just met a very nice couple named Gerard and Tony," she said, standing completely naked in front of us. "Gerard confirmed my suspicions. They're pretty protective of their secret nude beach and they're not wild about what they call ‘spectators'—people in clothes who come to see the naked people like they're at a zoo. Sometimes people will come over and ask you to leave."
"See, I told you they wanted their privacy," Laura said. "So let's pack up."
"Screw that," Maia said. "I haven't been to a beach in months, I want to stay. I think that they're fine with us now that at least one of our party has gone native, but I'd sure feel a lot more comfortable if you guys would join me."
"Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. Of course Carter will, he does anything I say." I shrugged. "Pete and Laura?"
"I don't know," Pete said. "Laura seems pretty adamant."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, make up your own mind," Laura said. "If you want to, I'll be fine."
So Pete and I tugged off our trunks, but Laura stubbornly kept her suit on. We tried to carry on normal conversation, but it seemed so weird. Laura's suit was more distracting than our nudity. "Why don't you just take it off?" Maia asked gently.
"Maia, we're in public. There are men wandering by."
"Yeah, but nobody is leering at you. Gerard told me that we're the first straight people he ever saw here. It's no different from the locker room at your pool. Just a bunch of gay men and your husband."
"And him." Laura pointed at me.
"Yeah, but we're among friends. Come on, live a little."
Laura's eyes flashed a bit of anger, or maybe defiance. "Okay, fine," she said. To me: "You, turn around." I did, and when I looked again, she was laying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. Her back arched gracefully down to a perfectly pink peach-shaped derriere.
"Okay," Maia said, fishing in our basket for something. "Now who wants to play some paddleball?"
Laura shot her a look. "You must be joking," she said. But Pete said, "I'm up." I thought, bad choice of words, Pete, but I didn't say it. He steeled himself with a deep breath and then, naked as my wife, walked down the beach with his foam paddle.
I watched them play, both occasionally shrieking in triumph or disappointment, I couldn't tell. After a while, I noticed the increasing afternoon heat. I reached into the bag and pulled out some sunscreen. I didn't want to burn the parts of me that rarely saw the sun.
"Crap," said Laura, seeing what I was doing. She twisted toward her husband, and I caught my first furtive glance at her breasts, as large and round as they had looked in her swimsuit. "Hey, Pete," she yelled.
"What?"
"Come do my back?"
"In a minute? I'm in the middle of an intense match," he called back.
"But I'm burning!"
"Have Carter do it," Maia shouted. Thank you, Maia, I surely don't deserve you.
Laura sighed. "Fine, Carter, could you please do my back?"
"No problem," I said, trying not to sound nervous. I squirted a generous amount of cream in my palm and began to rub it in. She was right—her pale skin was beginning to glow pink. I rubbed the sunscreen in, trying my best to find the probably nonexistent overlap between businesslike efficacy and sensuousness. I started with her shoulders and worked my way down. At some point the application of sunscreen became akin to a massage, which I noticed when Laura let an "mmm" escape, followed quickly by a catch of breath and then some deep, controlled breathing. She clearly was enjoying this, but unwilling to admit it.
I worked my way down from her shoulders waiting for her to stop me, but she never did. So I continued right to her fleshy buttocks, rubbing them firmly, and probably a bit too long.
"Okay, Mister, that's enough," Laura finally said. "One of us is enjoying this too much."
I thought she meant her, but as I sat back, I realized that I was sporting a full erection. Worse yet, the way I was sitting meant that it was right in front of her face the whole time. I quickly laid face down on my blanket. "Sorry," I said.
"Don't worry," she replied. "I won't say anything to Maia."
Mortified, I pretended to sleep. When my hard-on had subsided, I rolled over onto my back and snuck a peek at Laura. To my surprise, she had rolled over onto her back too. She was applying sunscreen to her breasts. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a tuft of bush atop her crotch.
"Whew," Maia said, approaching, shaking sand out of her wet blonde hair. I sat up to greet her. I will never get tired of seeing her naked body, her perky breasts, flat stomach, little knobs of her hip bones, the gap between her thighs. "I'm all sweaty," she said. "I'm going to go rinse off."
"I'll come with you," Laura said, and Pete and I looked at each other.
He sat down on their blanket and we watched them go. "Be honest," I said, "which one are you looking at."
"Hah. Busted," he said. "Did you ever think?"
"Maia?" I said. "I mean, yeah. She's pretty, uh, liberated."
"Meaning?"
"Oh, I shouldn't get into it. But you? Laura?"
"Nah. Not in a hundred years. I don't know what's gotten into her."
"Does it bother you?"
"Not a bit. I didn't even care when you were massaging her butt."
"Uh..."
"No, I'm serious. I figured that if she thought you were going too far, she'd let you know. She's in charge, you know."
Maia and Laura soon came back, and we packed up to leave. Pete, Maia, and I all put our swimsuits back on, but I watched Laura stuff hers into their bag and just throw on the beach cover-up she had worn earlier. At one point on the walk back, I had gotten ahead of the other three, and as I turned to watch them catch up, the sun setting behind them turned Laura's cover-up diaphanous, silhouetting her naked body. How did I ever mistake that beautiful creature for a shapeless lump? Sometimes I am incredibly stupid.
In the car, Laura raved about the day. She apologized for being stubborn at first and thanked us for convincing her to "do as the Romans do." "I didn't realize how cooped up I was feeling during the quarantine," she said. "It was just great to be out in nature, you know, natural."
"I know the feeling," Maia said.
"You know what's crazy?" Laura continued. "We couldn't really go outside for so long, and now I just want to be as outside as you can be, nothing holding me back. We couldn't go to restaurants and now I want to go to every restaurant and eat everything. We couldn't be with our friends and now I just want to, you know, be extra with friends, like, I love them so much. We couldn't try anything new and now I just want to try everything, do everything." She was almost crying. Maia reached up and squeezed her shoulder. "No more being scared of anything. I'm going to do everything I want," Laura said. They dropped us off shortly after dusk. "We had an amazing time," Laura said out of the car window. "Can we go again tomorrow?"
"I have a work call in the afternoon," I said. "But you're welcome to come over for brunch," Maia chimed in.
"We'll be there," Laura said.
After they drove off, Maia said, "well, that was unexpected."
----------------------------------------------------
They showed up the next morning at 10:00, Pete carrying a tray of something. Laura wore another beach wrap, similar to the one she wore the day before. Pete gave me a wide-eyed look that I couldn't decipher. But I noticed that Laura also wore dark eye makeup—something I had never seen before. Like I said, I always thought that she had a pretty face. But the makeup did something different to her. Made her seem dangerous. We ate quickly, but lightly. There seemed to be some unspoken charge between Laura and Pete, not tension, exactly, but a frisson. When we had done nothing but push uneaten food around our plates for several minutes, Laura asked, "do you mind if we just hang out by the pool now? I need more of what we got yesterday."
Maia laughed and said, "me too, I'll just go get a suit on."
"What for?" Laura asked. She untucked part of her wrap and it fell away. She was as naked as the day before, but glowing slightly from yesterday's sun.
"Okay," said Maia, wrong-footed by Laura's assertiveness. As between the two, Maia was used to being the forward one. But she followed Laura's lead now, slowly disrobing. I caught Pete's eye, and he gave me a shrug and a nod. I quickly grabbed towels from the nearby pool house and laid them out on some loungers. By the time I was done, everybody else was naked, and I quickly caught up.
The silence was awkward, so Laura broke it. "Carter, come do my back," she said, handing me a bottle. It wasn't the sunscreen we used at the beach; it was an oil that smelled like coconut. Like the day before, I began to massage it into her shoulders. I know it was just my imagination, but I could feel two pairs of eyes, my wife's and Pete's, at my back. But I slowly worked my way down Laura's back, to her rear end, and neither she nor either of our spouses stopped me.
In fact, when I reached the crease at the bottom of her cheeks, instead of interrupting me, Laura spread her legs apart and wagged her ass a little. I could hear nothing but my own heavy breathing and some birds in the trees. I put some oil in my palm and tentatively worked my hand into the crease of her butt. She didn't stop me; if anything, she spread her legs even more. I followed the crease down and touched her anus gently, and her butt puckered and raised. I followed it further and found her labial folds, split them with my middle finger, and pushed on until I found her clitoris. She let out a groan, so loud that I'm sure that Maia and Pete heard it behind me, but still, nobody called me off. I rubbed it in small circles and could feel her getting wet, until she whispered, "harder." I began frigging her faster—it must have been obvious to those behind me what I was doing, but all doubt was gone when Laura let out a rolling, yelping orgasm, followed by a long, contented sigh.
"Hey, turn around," she said quietly. I did, and then I understood why nobody called me off. Maia was straddling Pete in a sixty-nine, taking him into her mouth in long strokes. At the same time, he was pulling back her folds with both hands, giving her a trembling orgasm of her own. She was a champion, my Maia, riding out her own orgasm without interrupting her own deep throat, though her body squirmed in joy.
"You should be inside me," Laura whispered, bringing me out of my reverie. She sat me down on the lounger, then straddled my lap facing me, reaching beneath herself to guide me into her cunt. She grabbed me by the sides of my head with both hands, a wicked smile on her face, as she bounced on my cock. Her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and the middle of her chest flushed red. I grabbed one of her breasts—firm and heavy—and pulled it into my mouth, biting the nipple gently as she cried out again. She leaned back, still holding my head, as she alternated between bouncing up and down and rolling her hips forward and backward. She found my eyes and stared into them for a long moment, then pulled my head in and kissed me deeply, her tongue painting mine. She whispered in my ear, "come inside me, come inside," and as I did, she shuddered another orgasm of her own and collapsed into my body, nuzzling my neck, my softening member still inside her.
I looked over at my wife, who had thrown her legs over Pete's shoulders as he drove into her with deep strokes. Her eyes were trained on me. They seemed unfocused, but she never moved them from me until Laura finally rolled off my lap. Laura still sat beside me, her head on my shoulder, but she beckoned to Maia.
Maia slowly pushed Pete's hips away from her, then walked to where I sat. She stood before me, then bent at the waist, all the way down to take my soft cock into her mouth. It must have tasted like my come and Laura's pussy, but Maia didn't hesitate. She worked it with her tongue until it began to stiffen again. Pete stepped in and entered her from behind, and she swayed with his rhythm. From where I sat, I could see only the twin humps of her ass rippling slightly with each of Pete's thrusts, and, occasionally, her dreamy eyes when she took me out of her mouth to look up at me. She redoubled her efforts with my prick, mixing her mouth and hand, as Pete quickened his pace. He came inside her with a prolonged grunt, and moments later I came again as well, spurting past her mouth to her lip and cheek.
"Still have that work call?" Laura asked from my shoulder in a sing-song voice. "Because I could be persuaded to go again after a short break."
"I may be able to postpone it," I said. "It is the first Sunday after quarantine."
"That sounds like a plan," Maia said. "But before we all get some rest and fluid, let me ask you a question. Do you remember my friends Alison and Paul? Because I'm starting to think we all have a lot in common."
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