Self-Discovery

I love being looked at; I absolutely adore it when men look at my body with admiration and desire. I first experienced this sensation about 20 years ago during my first visit to a clothing optional beach. My husband (D) and I, in our first year of marriage, discovered that a legal CO beach was in the town we were vacationing in. It was he that suggested we go, and I readily agreed, feeling comfort in numbers and D's support.

We arrived at the beach, and I noticed that it was quite crowded, with men outnumbering women. Nonetheless, we entered the CO area, staked our space, spread the blanket and… stripped. It was exhilarating to be naked under the hot sun, with strangers' eyes at the ready to steal a peek! And it was reassuring to know that not a soul would recognise us. I was fit and confident in my body and immediately noticed that many of the men were glancing surreptitiously at me. D also noticed this and asked me if I enjoyed the attention: I confessed a thrill to being the focus of discreet voyeurism. What an understatement! I was on fire! My breasts are small, but I love how responsive my nipples are to the slightest arousal, and that day I was in a constant state of titillation. But my best asset was, and is, my legs: long, shapely stems that culminated in a dark bush with inner lips that can protrude even when not stimulated. Given the blaze that had been kindled between my legs by sun, strangers' gazes, and naughty whispers from my lover, I dared not look at myself.

We lay there people-watching, or, more often than not, admiring each other under the hot sun, its unrelenting heat seemingly concentrated between my legs, and whispering to each other about the possibilities if the beach were deserted. We were both highly charged, and I revelled in the sun and occasional appreciative look. I did not have to touch myself: I knew that I was very wet and very swollen. My blood, it seemed, had rushed to my pubic area, leaving me slightly dizzy and giddy. Indeed, D would mention every now and then that I was glistening beautifully, and that I was resplendent, redolent, and ripe. The praise served to churn my juices all the more.

The day was so hot that it was impossible to stay on the beach and not go in the water. Now, it was one thing to be spied upon by a small number of men in the immediate area of where I was laying naked; the possibility of easily covering myself always existed. However, it was quite another to actually get up and make the relatively long journey to the water, without a stitch or cover, between rows and columns of observing men. I realised that walking down to the water would be somewhat easy: the crowd in front of us had their back to me, and once I walked by, my back would be towards them. On the other hand, the return trek from the water would place me on a veritable catwalk. All of this flashed through my mind in an instant as D & I got up and went into the water.

It was so wonderful to swim and play in the waves in the nude! To feel the ocean caress me with open access to my most intimate place was truly breathtaking. My fingers, I recall, under the cover of water, couldn't resist wandering to my nipples, squeezing, tugging, and rolling them. Did my hand wander down to fondle and explore my opening? Perhaps briefly; I feared losing control, and I was close to the edge. Instinctively, both of us kept our distance from each other, knowing that a simple touch from either of us would have cataclysmic effects. We did not want to waste an iota of this magical energy in such a mundane way. We were greedy; we wanted it all for later. D left the water first and headed back to the blanket; he later confessed that he wanted to watch me walk back and witness the eyes furtively following me. Unintentionally, it turned out, I gave him and anyone else that was looking a risqué sight to see.

As I emerged from the cool water my nipples were, not surprisingly, extremely erect and hard. My breasts were covered in droplets of water and looked delicious, each a succulent morsel. I was mindful of their attentive state and prepared myself for my upcoming display of nakedness. With nervous anticipation and excitement I walked past numerous men that I knew were greedily examining me from behind their sunglasses. I also imagined that they were focussing on either my breasts or pubic area, most likely scanning both. I admit that this thought electrified me. But unknown to me, perhaps from the last wave or perhaps from briefly stroking myself while in the water, my pubic hair had been pasted backed to either side, providing an unsheltered view of my inner labia. Only upon my return to the blanket did I find out about my earthy exposure from D, telling me in fine detail that my inner lips were completely visible, totally swollen, fat, and openly prominent--perhaps even gaping--and my clitoris, or at least its hood, was clearly obvious. I'd like to say that I was overcome by embarrassment, but, truthfully, I could feel myself becoming more moistened than I had been all day. I was literally flowing. The fact that my slit and lips, my most secret and intimate parts, had been on widespread display gave me an enormous tingling sensation. 

We whispered about this and other things the rest of the day. Many more saunters were taken to the water. As the day progressed, I became more and more at ease with my public nudity and was enjoying the power of my sexuality, real or imagined. Once, on getting out of the water, feigning innocence, I bent down to supposedly examine some shells, giving a few select men a brief, but very revealing view. The border between tasteful nonchalance and shameless display may have been crossed in that instant: I'd like to think not, but at that point, I didn't care. 

Obviously, D was turned on by my displays and delighted with my freedom and coy exhibitionism. The sexual energy between us was palpable, yet we prolonged our stay at the beach, using it as foreplay. That evening our lovemaking was intense, with plenty of sizzling graphic talk. We woke often during night to touch each other gently, initiate, and build to yet another round of wonderfully dirty sex.

Every few years we will visit a CO beach. The water feels just as intimate, some men still look, some even with approval, and I always get that damp, glowing sensation. The thrill is still very much there, but never like that first glorious day.