It had started hours ago, with the simple, liberating act of shedding our suits. The fabric had pooled at our feet on the warm sand, and we’d stepped out of them without a second thought. Freedom. That was the only word for it. The sun, which usually only touched our faces and limbs, now kissed every part of us. The breeze, usually just a caress on clothed skin, became a full-body sensation.We’d spread our blanket close to the water, close enough to feel the cool mist from the breaking waves. We lay on our backs, side by side, our hands linked. We weren’t the only ones. All around, people of all shapes and sizes basked in the same uninhibited glory. There were glances, of course. A look held a second too long, an appreciative once-over. That was the point. The quiet thrill of being seen, of being observed, was a current that hummed just under my skin.After a while, I’d rolled onto my side, propping my head up on my hand to look at my husband. His eyes were closed, a picture of relaxation. I let my fingers trail down his chest, through the light dusting of hair, down his stomach. He stirred, a soft sigh escaping his lips. My hand drifted lower, and I found him already hard, waiting. A jolt of pure power shot through me. I did that. Even here, surrounded by all this, his body responded to my simplest touch.I glanced around then, a covert sweep of the beach. A few people were watching. A man a few blankets over had lowered his sunglasses. A woman was pretending to adjust her hat, but her gaze was fixed on my hand. They see. The thought was a spark on dry tinder. My own arousal, which had been a slow, warm simmer, suddenly flared.I couldn’t help myself. I moved, swinging a leg over his hips, straddling him right there in the open air. The sun beat down on my bare back as I settled onto him, a slow, deliberate slide that made us both groan. His hands came up to grip my hips, his eyes now wide open and locked on mine. The sounds I made weren’t quiet. They were swallowed by the ocean, but I knew people could hear. I could feel their attention shifting, focusing, homing in on us like a beacon.I began to move, a slow, rocking grind. My hands were braced on his solid chest, my head thrown back. My breasts moved with the rhythm, and I knew everyone could see. The anonymity, the audience, it was an intoxicant. I was wetter than I’d ever been, every nerve ending singing.That’s when I saw him. The tall, fit man walking, not past, but toward us. He wasn’t pretending to look at the horizon. His eyes were directly on me, on the place where our bodies joined. And he was just as turned on as we were. He stopped a few feet away, a question in his hungry gaze. *The crinkle of the condom wrapper was obscenely loud. I watched his hands, capable and sure, as he sheathed himself. My husband’s grip on my hips tightened, a silent signal. This is happening.With a fluid motion, I pushed myself up, my husband sliding out of me with a sensation that left me aching. I didn’t go far. I lowered my mouth to him, taking his length into my mouth, tasting the salt of the sea and the sweat of our skin. I heard my husband’s sharp intake of breath above me, felt his hands weave into my hair.Then I felt a new touch. The stranger’s hands, large and warm, settled on my hips. He positioned himself behind me. My heart was a wild drum against my ribs. I was on my knees, suspended between them, completely exposed to the entire beach. I could see people shifting, sitting up, their pretence of disinterest completely gone.The stranger didn’t rush. He leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, and his voice was a hot whisper in my ear. “You are stunning.”Then he pressed forward.I cried out, the sound muffled around my husband, my body arching back against the stranger’s. The feeling of being filled, so completely and by someone new, was absolutely electrifying. I was the center of a perfect, shocking storm of sensation. The familiar taste and feel of my husband in my mouth, and the thrilling, unknown stretch and push of the stranger moving inside me from behind.My husband’s moan rumbled through me. His hands fisted in my hair, not pulling, just holding, anchoring me to him as he watched everything unfold. The stranger set a slow, deep rhythm, each thrust rocking me forward, making me take my husband deeper. I was moaning constantly now, a continuous, needy sound that was lost to the wind and the waves.I opened my eyes, looking up at my husband’s face. His expression was one of raw, unabashed ecstasy. He was watching another man claim me, and he was loving it. The knowledge of his pleasure, of giving him this sight, sent a fresh wave of dizzying heat crashing through me. I was lost in it. The sun on my skin, the two men surrounding me, the audience whose hungry eyes I could feel like physical touches.The stranger’s pace began to quicken, his breaths coming in harsh grunts near my ear. My husband’s hips began to move in a shallow rhythm, meeting my mouth. I was the link between them, the conductor for this incredible energy. The world had shrunk to this: the slide of skin on skin, the shared breaths, the building pressure, and the silent, watching crowd.I didn’t know how this would end. I just knew I never, ever wanted it to

It had started hours ago, with the simple, liberating act of shedding our suits. The fabric had pooled at our feet on the warm sand, and we’d stepped out of them without a second thought. Freedom. That was the only word for it. The sun, which usually only touched our faces and limbs, now kissed every part of us. The breeze, usually just a caress on clothed skin, became a full-body sensation.

We’d spread our blanket close to the water, close enough to feel the cool mist from the breaking waves. We lay on our backs, side by side, our hands linked. We weren’t the only ones. All around, people of all shapes and sizes basked in the same uninhibited glory. There were glances, of course. A look held a second too long, an appreciative once-over. That was the point. The quiet thrill of being seen, of being observed, was a current that hummed just under my skin.

After a while, I’d rolled onto my side, propping my head up on my hand to look at my husband. His eyes were closed, a picture of relaxation. I let my fingers trail down his chest, through the light dusting of hair, down his stomach. He stirred, a soft sigh escaping his lips. My hand drifted lower, and I found him already hard, waiting. A jolt of pure power shot through me. I did that. Even here, surrounded by all this, his body responded to my simplest touch.

I glanced around then, a covert sweep of the beach. A few people were watching. A man a few blankets over had lowered his sunglasses. A woman was pretending to adjust her hat, but her gaze was fixed on my hand. They see. The thought was a spark on dry tinder. My own arousal, which had been a slow, warm simmer, suddenly flared.

I couldn’t help myself. I moved, swinging a leg over his hips, straddling him right there in the open air. The sun beat down on my bare back as I settled onto him, a slow, deliberate slide that made us both groan. His hands came up to grip my hips, his eyes now wide open and locked on mine. The sounds I made weren’t quiet. They were swallowed by the ocean, but I knew people could hear. I could feel their attention shifting, focusing, homing in on us like a beacon.

I began to move, a slow, rocking grind. My hands were braced on his solid chest, my head thrown back. My breasts moved with the rhythm, and I knew everyone could see. The anonymity, the audience, it was an intoxicant. I was wetter than I’d ever been, every nerve ending singing.

That’s when I saw him. The tall, fit man walking, not past, but toward us. He wasn’t pretending to look at the horizon. His eyes were directly on me, on the place where our bodies joined. And he was just as turned on as we were. He stopped a few feet away, a question in his hungry gaze.

 *

The crinkle of the condom wrapper was obscenely loud. I watched his hands, capable and sure, as he sheathed himself. My husband’s grip on my hips tightened, a silent signal. This is happening.

With a fluid motion, I pushed myself up, my husband sliding out of me with a sensation that left me aching. I didn’t go far. I lowered my mouth to him, taking his length into my mouth, tasting the salt of the sea and the sweat of our skin. I heard my husband’s sharp intake of breath above me, felt his hands weave into my hair.

Then I felt a new touch. The stranger’s hands, large and warm, settled on my hips. He positioned himself behind me. My heart was a wild drum against my ribs. I was on my knees, suspended between them, completely exposed to the entire beach. I could see people shifting, sitting up, their pretence of disinterest completely gone.

The stranger didn’t rush. He leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, and his voice was a hot whisper in my ear. “You are stunning.”

Then he pressed forward.

I cried out, the sound muffled around my husband, my body arching back against the stranger’s. The feeling of being filled, so completely and by someone new, was absolutely electrifying. I was the center of a perfect, shocking storm of sensation. The familiar taste and feel of my husband in my mouth, and the thrilling, unknown stretch and push of the stranger moving inside me from behind.

My husband’s moan rumbled through me. His hands fisted in my hair, not pulling, just holding, anchoring me to him as he watched everything unfold. The stranger set a slow, deep rhythm, each thrust rocking me forward, making me take my husband deeper. I was moaning constantly now, a continuous, needy sound that was lost to the wind and the waves.

I opened my eyes, looking up at my husband’s face. His expression was one of raw, unabashed ecstasy. He was watching another man claim me, and he was loving it. The knowledge of his pleasure, of giving him this sight, sent a fresh wave of dizzying heat crashing through me. I was lost in it. The sun on my skin, the two men surrounding me, the audience whose hungry eyes I could feel like physical touches.

The stranger’s pace began to quicken, his breaths coming in harsh grunts near my ear. My husband’s hips began to move in a shallow rhythm, meeting my mouth. I was the link between them, the conductor for this incredible energy. The world had shrunk to this: the slide of skin on skin, the shared breaths, the building pressure, and the silent, watching crowd.

I didn’t know how this would end. I just knew I never, ever wanted it to

A couple, open about their desires and comfortable with public exhibitionism, spends a weekend at a nude beach where they engage in sex in front of curious onlookers. Their encounter escalates when a stranger joins them, leading to a thrilling menage a trois in broad daylight, watched by an eager audience.

A stranger fucked me while I sucked my husband at the nude beach

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