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Beach Blanket Boingo
by Hector’s Pup
hectorspup@hotmail.com
One summer I was assigned to work with a subcontractor of
our company in Portland, OR to help install, set up and
operate precision equipment to reduce the number of reject
parts this particular company was supplying us. During my
stay, I learned of a clothing optional beach on an island
in the Columbia River. This was a long of beach
that started with a swimsuits required area, that became a
clothing optional beyond. If you took the walk
from the "suits" through the clothing optional area,
you'd start off experiencing the exhibitionists within eye
shot of the swimsuits. Then you'd go through a of
hard-core party that stayed until dark. Beyond them
you typically encountered couples and families with pockets
of tough looking women with short haircuts and tattoos.
Then, after a small bay and around a corner, you'd come
across a long of men. If you had a lot of time
and energy and kept walking, you'd encounter private pockets
of groups that would beach their boats beyond the fray.
Each time I visited this island, it was always the same
general make up as I walked west along the beach.
Over the summer I set up next to the party or the
couples and familyareas, not feeling comfortable with
either putting myself on display for the clothed gawkers or
the men. One day I thought I would venture out and have
some private space beyond the area. I was walking along
a high sand ridge and came up upon a group of late teen or
early twenty something year women playing Frisbee and
grab ass below me in a lower bowl-like area. This was along
the secluded stretch, so etiquette required me to move along.
I pretty much froze, however, since I was mesmerized by their
individual and collective beauty. I was awash in indecision
and peaked in frustration. I was too close to get away with
using my binoculars, and not close enough to get a full
effect. If there were a group to my right, I could feel
justified in setting down right there, as I would be
somewhat in the middle of the two groups, but setting down
where I was, could be nothing other that appeared to be, a
peak voyeuristic exploitative experience.
Compulsion got the better of me and I settled down along the
ridge. As the became aware of my presence, I sensed
the annoyance in their glares. I played it as nonchalantly
as I could muster, trying to create the illusion that I
could care less about their proximity to me. They were not
regulars to the nude beach, because they had good tans with
white and butts. Two of them put bikini bottoms
back on, one put on a loose with tails in front and
back that just ran to the crotch. With it loosely buttoned
and sleeves rolled up, she was sexier than if she had on
nothing at all.
Waves of guilt were washing over me because my presence was
destroying the uninhibited moment I was so much enjoying.
It looked as if they were going to consign themselves to a
period of sunbathing and started rubbing lotion on each
other. They seemed to forget about me, and got back in the
moment, as they playfully alternated between massaging each
other’s and nipples, tweaking them, tickling, or
goosing each other. This was having an effect on me. I
was getting an erection as I lay on my side facing them
pretending I was reading. If there is one thing you don’t
want to have at a nudist beach, it is a hardon. Instead of
rolling onto my stomach, I tried rolling the other way. As
I did so, I rolled onto something sharp, like the corner of
a hard cover book, and got hung up while I fished it out of
the way. What I didn’t realize was that this silhouetted
my staff to the sky and made it prominently plain to see, as
was indicated by a couple of the pointing in my
direction.
Finally, I made it over facing the other way, and felt I had
better stay that direction for a while. My woody wouldn’t
calm down, because all I could think about were the nubile
bodies in uninhibited play. Then I did the unthinkable, I
placed my palm around the head of my cock and gently
squeezed. My eyes were closed in sexual reverie and I was
trying not to move my arm to give away my secret activity.
Then I was brought back to reality by a cloud that shaded my
eyes, but didn’t cool any part of my body. When I opened my
eyes, I was surrounded by five of the most gorgeous
women I had ever seen in one place. They stood arms akimbo,
breasts jutting out proudly, and bodies glistening from
sweat and lotion. I tried to scoot my feet underneath me,
and push myself up with my hands behind me on my blanket,
when a foot came down on my chest pushing me back down on
my back. "Don’t stop now on our account stud." The shortest
girl with hair insisted. "Put your hand back on it
and get it hard again."
From my vantage point of crotches and boobs, I didn’t need
much urging to bring it back to life. Some toes started
rolling my balls around. I was too embarrassed to look at
anyone in particular so I closed my eyes in reckless abandon
and started sliding my hand up and down the shaft. "Stop!"
she insisted, "Take your hand off, now." My eyes opened
and I was convulsing as I caught my breath. She stopped me
just as I was about to cum. My frustration put the muscles
of my body into a momentary tight tension. Two helped
me stand up and held my arms, another picked up my things,
and the short invited, "If we won’t let you beat it,
join us."
As they started down the sandy incline toward their spot, I
resisted and tried to hold my ground in apprehension. A
cute put her hand around my balls and tugged me
into following. They found it amusing to watch my cock bob
and weave as I walked through the sand. When we arrived,
one said, "I think we should put some water on this
fire." And they marched me to the river, which at this time
of year had a good deal of snow melt keeping the temperature
into the low sixties. They took me into just below crotch
level and pushed me over into the deeper water. I
immediately tried to get back on my feet and regain a normal
breathing, but they insisted that I remain in the water a
minute longer. As I was just beginning to get used to it,
they waved me in and escorted me to the blankets.
All eyes were on my crotch. The cold water had shrunk my
cock to a head without a neck and my balls were clinging to
my body for dear life. Now, I didn’t know if I was
shivering from the cold water or my embarrassment and
humiliation. I stood trying to cover my crotch with my
hands as they commented, joked, and jibbed at my situation.
One of them had the idea to see how small they could make my
genitals by icing them down even colder. So they took some
ice from a cooler and placed it in a towel like a sling and
held the towel front and back rising me up on my tiptoes as
they pulled. That wasn’t enough for them, as they tried
sawing the towels with the ice front and back to rub the ice
cubes against my cock and balls.
The pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.
First, there was the discomfort of my balls trying to retreat
up into my body, then there was the burning coldness of the
ice, and this combined with hard rough surface of the cubes
hitting my balls as they slide across brought tears to my
eyes. When they saw this they stopped to inspect their
experiment. My dick was now half its normal circumference
and my scrotum was drawn up tight and wrinkled and looked as
if I had been castrated. It was too uncomfortable to stand
with my legs together so I was forced to be on display as
they watched my crotch intently. My stomach and I was
slouched forward somewhat, with my hands being held in
someone else’s hands behind my back, so they wouldn’t
obstruct the view.
After being scolded for invading their space and privacy,
they said that they were going to teach me a lesson. I got
a small lecture about how are really the weaker sex
because of the vulnerability between their legs. I had to
endure comments like "your balls can run, but they can’t
hide." As they were berating me, my dick and scrotum were
coming back to life in the warm sun. My balls started a
churning and rolling process like a den of bears waking up
from hibernation. This brought out curious stares and a
couple of the got down in front to get a closer look.
This led to touching and holding to feel the balls rolling
in their sack. "Curious things, these eggs of yours, I can
make you moan in pleasure by doing this," as she gently
massaged my sack, "or I can make you groan in agony." as
she gave them a two hand squeeze that sent me reeling to the
ground in a fetal position.
There was a huddle while I tried to recover on the blanket.
Then I was being coated with tanning oil from neck to toe.
Someone produced a lady’s razor and they proceeded to shave
me of all of my body hair from the neck down. As they
admired their handiwork, hands glided across my slippery
body checking for any spots that were not as smooth as a
baby’s bottom. This was particularly soothing to my aching
balls and brought my hardon back to life. Then out came a
camera. I was posed in all sorts of humiliating postures
and instructed to stroke myself just enough to keep myself
hard, but not to cum. They shot a whole roll and part of
a second before they tired of this show.
For the grand finale, they had me lie on my back and bring
my legs back so that my feet touched the ground behind my
head. Their goal was to have me suck my own cock, but I was
not limber enough to reach it. Using a fist grip on my
scrotum, one levered my rear as far as it would go and
held it there while another started to stroke my cock. It
was difficult to breathe in this position to begin with, but
as I was nearing a badly needed orgasm, one tried to
have me open my mouth by taking her thumb and middle finger
and pressing at the back of my jaw. When this didn’t get
the desired effect, the with the death grip on my sack
gave my balls a slap in warning of what could happen if I
didn’t comply. I opened my mouth and received the majority
of my own in it. I wanted to spit it out and was
gagging but another slap had me eagerly downing the load.
"Good job Dork." The said, who was holding my balls in
her hand, as she patted them for emphasis. She released me
and let me wallow in my pain as the got dressed and
packed up. The blanket I was on was the last thing before
they left. Three of them grabbed an end and pulled, leaving
me to roll onto the sand. The sand stuck to my oiled body
where I rolled, and two of them picked up handfuls of sand
trickling it on the parts that had not been coated. They
blew kisses "good-bye" and walked off. I still remember
the exquisite image of their gorgeous legs and luscious
butts fading off into the horizon.
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