[Amy Sue]

Part 20: A Day at the Beach
(early 2000s)

I have spent much of my life trying to understand my exhibitionist urges and in what way they are connected to sex. My often-uncontrollable impulses to expose myself have sometimes led to sexual encounters. Are these compulsions a subconscious way for me to allow myself to instigate situations to fulfill sexual desires? Or is exhibitionism my goal, but this brings about sexual thoughts and urges in others that I find pleasure in accommodating? I would love to know. I have been writing out my story as a way of continuing the thrills I experience from exposing myself to others, but also as an effort to analyze and hopefully understand it all.

I have enjoyed taking on the dares of my friends and partners as this brings me new ideas, shared experiences, and validation. But most of my adventures begin as dares to myself to make real some thing that stems from fantasy. I am inundated with carnal schemes, as if an internal voice is making dozens of perverted suggestions every day.

Many of these dares, and their aim, are easy to understand. At the unexpected sound of the doorbell, when I am not dressed, I beg myself to answer it as I am. When noticing the mailman pass by, I might dare myself to go out to the mailbox topless. I get ideas like that all the time. Sometimes I follow through, and sometimes I don’t. But this thrills me either way. And these notions are not hard to understand. It is just the excitement of daring and exposure, and to wonder who may see and be excited by me. In some way I want to entice people, but I don’t carry out these acts with the goal of having sex with the mailman or a neighbor.

Some of my dares are more difficult to understand, or at least can be misleading. When I dared myself to walk naked through the house while my father-in-law was visiting, I had no thoughts of seducing him. I just love to be admired. I had the urge and thought this would be appreciated by an older man. But I can see how my actions could be suggestive and confusing to others. I have slept nude in the same bed with both male and female friends. I did this for several reasons. I always sleep in the nude, and it feels wrong to hide who I am. It does give me a thrill for people to see me in this way – physically, of course, but I also want them to see that I am audacious. Although I was not opposed to it, I did not climb naked into their beds with the intent of having sex. Or if that was my intention, I was not aware of it.

Recently I have been giving much thought to a particular episode. It was an exhilarating experience for me, but looking back, I don’t really know what I was after. While living in Orlando, Brandon and I had become regular visitors to a nude beach out in New Smyrna, just under an hour’s drive from the house. I really enjoyed lying out in the sun, playing in the water, and people watching. More so, I loved it when people were watching me. I had been to other nude beaches that were more crowded, and everyone was close together. But at New Smyrna Beach, everyone is spread out. There is a lot of room and people tend to give each other space. Only occasionally will someone approach and make conversation. I enjoyed my encounters with people and found myself watching each passerby hoping they would stop to chat.

On one occasion, as I was rubbing sunscreen on Brandon while he lay face down on a beach chair, a man walked up to us and started making small talk. He was opposite the chair from me with Brandon between us, but he stood very close. He really didn’t have much to say. It became obvious he just wanted to get, or give, a closer look. He had his hands on his hips and shoulders back, I think to push forward and present his impressive member to me. It caught me a bit off guard, but I worked to keep the conversation going because I admired his tenacity, and I was pleased that he was checking me out. While we spoke, I would move around and try to find little sexy ways of bending over to rub in the lotion. It was more of a massage, really. Brandon has a very cute butt, so I focused my attention there. But leaning over put my face close to the man’s penis. Not since college had I been able to so closely inspect a penis within seconds of meeting its owner. For this, and my standing nude in front of a semi-erect stranger while massaging a cute butt, I found the whole encounter to be weird and wicked fun. As I was wondering where all this was going, there was a short lull in the conversation, and the man just walked away. It seemed abrupt, with no goodbye. I thought I possibly offended him.

Several encounters with people on the beach left me fascinated by such interactions. As most were awkward, I tried to understand why. We ran into a few couples, or small groups, but most who approached us were male and alone. I wondered how different the interactions would be if Brandon was not there. When I pictured myself coming to the nude beach alone, I became excited. It seemed bold and daring, if not dangerous. I had not noticed any single females at the beach before. I began discussing these thoughts with Brandon. I told him that the idea of coming to the beach alone turned me on. But I changed the subject as it started to feel like I was saying the beach would be more fun without him.

Brandon traveled for his job. I loved spending time with him, but I also enjoyed the time I had to myself when he was gone. Shortly after I started to daydream about going unescorted to the nude beach, Brandon left for a couple of weeks. The first morning I woke up alone, I stayed in bed for hours imagining myself at the beach. My fantasies ranged from innocent to extreme. Unlike most of my ideas, I did not have a particular plan or focus. I decided to just go to the beach and see what happens.

For my first trips to the nude beach with Brandon, I wore my bathing suit, but just took it off at the beach. Later trips, I stopped bringing my bathing suit. I would wear a sarong or sheer beach wrap, with nothing underneath. I was trying to be increasingly sexy and venturesome with each trip. For the next one, I had already planned to wear matching sheer bra and panties, as if it were a bikini. At our house, we had a covered walkway to our car port, so it was easy for me to come and go from the house with a reduced chance of being seen. The only concerns between home and the beach were the guard shack where we had to pay the entry for the beach parking, and the walk from the parking lot (through a part of the non-nude beach) to our destination. I had been gaining courage to go through this journey with little to no clothes. But I was a bit more nervous to go like this alone. What if the car broke down, or if I was in an accident? Without Brandon to help me through, I thought it would be too risky. But as I gathered up my sunscreen, towel, beach umbrella, and purse, the notion of these risks had me so aroused that I put on the see-through bra and panties and headed for the beach.

While driving up I-4 toward the beach, I was considering if I should wear my towel when I pull up to the guard shack. Then I noticed something to which I had given no thought. I was almost out of gas. This was one of those times of panic mixed with elation. I knew I was caught in a situation, without enough gas to return home or make it to the beach, I had to stop. As much as I was afraid, these are the scenarios of which I dream. It is easier for me to commit to my urges when I feel as though I can’t back out. I love all the sensations, even the fear, that accompanies my exposures. And now I may be forced to pump gas in my see-through underwear. When I pulled up to the pump, I was thinking to wear my towel, but I concluded I would look ridiculous pumping gas while wearing a bath towel. I figured with our proximity to the beach, it would not seem too odd for me to be wearing a bikini, which I hoped my underwear would appear as such from a distance. This is the kind of thing I tell myself that may have some truth, but deep down I know I am just trying to go through with what I really want to do.

No one else was at the pumps, so I got out of the car with my back to the store, facing the road. The passing cars were far enough away, and moving at such speeds, that I felt comfortable. Then another wave of fear and excitement as the pump rejected my card. The interface read, “See attendant.” I didn’t know if I could make it to another gas station. While debating if I should go in as is, or in my towel, I tried the card again, and it worked. I was relieved. But as I leaned against the car and pumped my gas, the thoughts of going up to the station attendant in my see-through bra and panties brought me to feel disappointed that the pump worked. Going into the store would have been very exciting for me. But now that I did not need to go in, I knew I wouldn’t. Although, I heard that dirty little voice in my head now daring me to do it anyway. As usual, I debated the rules.
‘If no one pulls into the station before my tank is full, I must go in and buy a lottery ticket.’
‘If it is a guy behind the counter, I must…’
A minivan pulled into the gas station. I tucked up tight to my car praying that they would park over at the store… but no. The van pulled up to the pump opposite mine. I put my back to it and pushed myself against my car as if that would make me invisible. I knew how revealing my underwear was when seen up close, and I could tell that the van was full of people. As the minivan came to a stop, I thought to jump in my car until the people left. But then I realized I probably had enough gas to get moving. So, I stopped pumping but could not return the nozzle before a large family came pouring out of the van. I could not get back in my car without being seen, so I tucked up tight to my car again and returned to pumping gas. I was so anxious and found myself up on my tiptoes doing my nervous dance. Knowing it would be better to appear as if nothing is wrong, I tried to stop, but my nerves had taken over. I think pushing my body up against the car and doing my little dance didn’t look right. It likely appeared as though a girl in her underwear was rubbing herself on the gas pump nozzle. This is what I determined when the loud talking family behind me all fell silent. They had noticed me. Although I knew my bottom was easily seen through my sheer panties, I kept my back to them and closed my eyes, in a futile attempt to hide.

When I heard my pump shut off, I opened my eyes to see the mom passing in front of me on her way to the store. The look she gave me was one of disbelief. I just had to get out of there. So, I returned the nozzle and my gas cap before jumping back in my car. I did not fully look up at the family standing just a few feet away, but I could tell they were staring at me. As I pulled back onto the highway, all my fear washed away and I screamed out loud, danced, and giggled all the way to the beach.

After my experience at the gas station, I was so energized that I had no trouble pulling up to the guard shack in my underwear. But when the guard stepped out, and I saw his uniform, I suddenly thought I could be in trouble. Having only imagined what the guard might think, I had not given any thought to being detained. This would be exciting in its own way, but not what I had planned. My concerns faded as he asked me my destination in a most pleasant voice. I first answered, “The beach.” But I was so revved up I wanted to say, ‘The nude beach.’ Instead, I only added, “Lot 5.”, which was the access to the nude beach. I looked up to see his reaction, and if he had noticed how I was dressed. But he was standing close to my car which sat low. I could not see up past his chin without leaning out of the car. So, I just looked at his chest and wondered what he was thinking. I knew my breasts were clearly visible. But his voice was consistent, and did not betray any interesting thoughts, as he told me the price and the time the beach would close. I paid, thanked him, and felt some disappointment for his limited reaction as I continued to the parking lot.

The walk from the car took me down a boardwalk and through a non-nude section of beach before I reached my destination. I encountered several groups of people on the way which made me feel a bit like I did at the gas station. The boardwalk was long and thin and would force me to walk very close to the people coming the other way. When still at a distance, I was excited and made sure I could be seen. But as people drew near, my nerves would kick in and I would hold my towel and umbrella against my body and scurry past.

When I arrived at the nude beach, I chose a spot between a single guy on a towel and a small group with a big setup, but I was a good distance from each. The guy was nude, but all in the small group were wearing bathing suits. They had a large umbrella with several coolers and such. I saw at least one girl in the group, but I think the others were all men. I chose this spot because I wanted an audience, and I liked that I would be the only naked girl around.

I laid out my towel and removed my bra and panties. I set up my umbrella but did not use it at first. I like to get a tan but would need the umbrella later because it is easy to get burned in the Florida sun. While on my towel, I tried to sneak peeks at my neighbors to see if they were looking. They weren’t being obvious, but it appeared the people were checking me out. Looking down at my naked body, with several people in my peripheral, I imagined the thoughts of others. A naked girl alone in public. Even at a nude beach, I found this to be rare. People must know that I want to be seen. Even if they think I am just here for a tan, they must believe I am strong and bold to do so in this way. I had only been there a few minutes, but with the wind, sun, and the gaze of strangers, I was already very glad I came.

Squinting at the people walking by, I tried to see who was taking an interest in me. This is when I really started to wonder what exactly I wanted out of this. I loved to just be naked at the beach, and when I knew for sure that people were watching me, I felt wonderful. But none of this ever seemed to completely fulfill me. Whenever I reached what I thought might be my goal, I looked for what was next.

Those walking the beach usually strode along the water’s edge. I set up a good distance away. Some would walk by and never look over. Others would glance at me as they passed. I even exchanged waves with a few. But some went out of their way to walk very close to me. These were the people I thought most interested in getting a better look. But no one stopped to talk, even when I would say hello.

I grew anxious waiting for… I don’t know what. So, I went down to the water and frolicked for a while. This brought me closer to those walking by, and I thought they may engage me if I were already up and moving around. This worked to some degree. I met a nice middle-aged couple who told me they came to the beach all the time and told me about other beaches they would visit. I gathered these were real nudists. I love that. People who are just so open and comfortable with themselves, and like to live their lives this way. But I don’t think I would ever want that for me. I go nude many places, and almost always at home, and I have some feelings that this is fine and natural. I love to be one with myself and nature. But I take great pleasure in my actions being considered naughty. I love to be a bad girl. I want people to see me as surprising, daring, erotic, exciting, and even lustful. I don’t want to be seen as someone who is just one with herself and nature. I do want to be accepted, but not perfectly. I don’t want all my actions to be categorized as acceptable. And I want to turn people on.

I also met a gay couple. These two men were very nice and refreshingly honest. I started with general pleasantries that practically pretended the three of us were not standing nude together in public. But they didn’t let me get away with that. They called me out immediately, saying that I was a lascivious little girl, a coquette, looking for trouble by prancing around a nude beach alone. It was impressive to me how they could say such things and not offend. They both had a wonderful way of talking through their smiles in happy tones that let them get away with saying almost anything. I really enjoyed admitting to them that they had me pegged. I didn’t know exactly what I was doing, but it almost certainly would be lascivious.

The sun was intense, and I loved the feel of it on my body, but I was burning. Not wanting to leave, I knew I should at least get under my umbrella - and this might have another advantage. A nude girl in the sun may just want a tan. She may prefer to be alone. But a girl lying nude in the shade? What motivates her? I thought perhaps that question might encourage people to ask. As I sat under my umbrella, I considered how more people approached me when I was with Brandon. But we often chose a more secluded spot. This time I chose a populated area because I wanted attention, and that may have backfired in a way. Perhaps people are not comfortable approaching me with others around. This suggests that I may have been right about the motivations of some of the men that had approached me in the past. If they only do so in isolated areas, they probably want to say, or do, something naughty. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I don’t know if it was just innocent curiosity, or if I was pursuing something far from innocent, but I gathered up my things to move down the beach, away from all the people.

I chose not to get dressed, or even collapse my umbrella for the move. I just gathered my belongings in my arms and leaned the umbrella over my shoulder. I liked the image I thought I presented as I paraded along the water in front of the beach goers. The bottom half of a naked girl revealed from under what I pretended to be an oversized parasol, which I began to twirl. I was inspired to walk demi pointe, as much as one can in sand, and execute a couple of pirouettes to offer a lovely show, with the ocean as my backdrop. But just as I was feeling like a beautiful ballerina, the wind ripped the parasol from my grip. I dropped my panties in the wet sand as I ungracefully chased my umbrella down the beach. After I recovered, I closed the umbrella, shook the sand from my panties, and just walked conventionally to a secluded spot.

I knew that being so far from people could be dangerous. This touches on a subject that has always been challenging for me. My most prevalent sexual fantasies involve a man holding me down, pulling my hair, and having his way with me. It is immensely arousing as a fantasy, but in reality, can be a dangerous game. Nevertheless, I will sometimes still put myself in situations that most girls would never. I don’t think I was hoping for this kind of experience on the beach that day, I just wanted to escalate things and let my fantasies squash my fears.

Lying under my umbrella, a good distance from others, with only the occasional passerby, I quickly got bored. But still filled with the excitement of the day, this seemed like the perfect time to pleasure myself. I turned face down on my towel and began my standard ritual. Slowly working an increasing number of fingers inside me, I pretended they were not my own. Just as I was getting going, I noticed a couple walking up the beach. I thought to stop my gyrations and be less obvious, but then remembered a time that Brandon and I were fooling around at the beach. I had put his hand between my legs and encouraged him, as I love to be fingered. But when people came walking by, he stopped and said he thought they could tell what we were doing. I forced his hand back into me and told him I didn’t care. I wanted them to know. I hoped they would watch. This turned us both on and we made a show of it. It was fantastic. Now I wondered why I would be embarrassed because I was alone. I decided to keep going and quickly turned any concern about being caught to feeling intense pleasure from people watching.

The couple knew I was masturbating, but they paused only briefly. As they continued down the beach, I waited for others. A naked man walked by, then a tall (fully clothed) jogger ran past as I was really getting into it with exaggerated physicality. Anyone who looked my way could have no doubt about what I was doing. Just before my first orgasm, I realized no one was in sight. So, I backed off and just played around while waiting for people. My purpose had become less about reaching orgasm, it was more just to tease. So, I rolled over onto my back and played with myself until I saw a man approaching. He was probably in his 40s or 50s. I thought this was a good one, because he was bottomless in a t-shirt. I found that to be common at this beach – a guy with a shirt and no pants. Like a nude girl in the shade - what is his motivation? I thought I knew. Tilting my head back, so I could pretend I didn’t see him, I fingered with one hand and caressed my breasts with the other. Every few seconds I would subtly look up to see if he was watching. He had stopped walking and was staring at me. This is what I wanted. I was incredibly aroused to know he was watching as I worked to bring myself to orgasm.

I was about to burst when I saw another man walking up from my right. He was a bit younger, 30 something, carrying his shorts, and approaching fast. I was so surprised and embarrassed that I balled myself up and covered my face. It felt like I had been caught and I thought he was going lecture me. But when I peeked at him again, I could see he had dropped his shorts and was rubbing himself. He was completely nude, with a small penis, but in good shape. I admired his confidence. I found most guys with small penises to be shy about it. I was impressed how this guy walked up to me with no shame and was bold enough to just do as he wanted. I looked toward the water to see that the guy in the t-shirt had moved down the beach a bit but was still watching. I stretched back out and began touching myself again. I had imagined, but somehow not really expected, that my day would include watching a man pleasure himself in front of me. It is not the most elegant of things, but I absolutely love to know that just watching me can inspire a man to orgasm.

I kept rubbing and caressing myself to continue to arouse him, and give t-shirt guy a show. I was doing things I thought he would want to see, like occasionally pinching my nipples between fingering and sucking my fingers. He moved around to get a better look between my legs. I have known several guys that like to have a long and unobstructed view. I have also been to strip clubs and noticed some guys getting right up between the girl’s legs as if to really study the vagina. I’m sure they were turned on, but it also seemed more like they wanted to learn. I like a more burlesque approach, leaving some mystery, but I admire a man’s boldness and desire to learn. So, I spread my legs a bit and let him have a good look. However, the longer it went on with him stroking, but not ejaculating, I wondered if he needed to take this further. What would I do if he climbed on top of me?

A group of 6 or 7 people, all clothed, were coming up the beach. I closed my legs and waited to see what the guys would do. The one in the t-shirt continued down the beach. My other friend stopped rubbing himself and walked up next to me with his back toward the group. I could see that his penis, now erect, looked surprisingly substantial. I also noticed he had a nice butt. Realizing once the group passed by he and I would be alone, I thought more about having sex with him. It was not my goal, but I knew I was unlikely to stop him if he tried. I led him on to this point. I could not imagine rejecting him. It is times like this that make me wonder if my exhibitionism is just an excuse for me to reach some other, maybe subconscious, desire. Am I really just in pursuit of deviant sex?

Brandon and I were married at this point, and I had not given any consideration to this. We had grown to be more than friends while spending time together taking sexy pictures and videos. He knows all about me, and I know what he likes. We had a good number of adventures with other people while we were dating, and I married him while wearing a see-through wedding dress (a story for another time). But we had not established that we had an open marriage. At the same time, he enjoys when I expose myself to his friends and strangers, and he likes to hear my stories of sex with others, including people he knows. But we never defined the nature of our relationship in this way. I liked that it was ambiguous and open to all kinds of possibilities. But Brandon didn’t know I came to the beach by myself. Although, I was looking forward to telling him about my adventure. He loves for me to surprise him in this way. But now that we are married, the idea of having sex with a stranger on the beach just felt wrong.

Once the group moved on, my friend came right up beside me and began stroking himself again. Even with all the thoughts and doubts in my head, I still could not stop myself. I wanted to completely surrender to my urges and fully experience all the endorphins and emotions running through me. I committed to masturbating with vigor, and didn’t care if anyone else would come upon us. I made a great show as I brought myself to orgasm. Wanting to inspire him to get there with me, I exaggerated my moaning and breathing. I even let out a loud orgasmic squeal at the climax. It brought intense pleasure thinking others might hear me. My friend, although working hard, was still not there. I kept caressing my body and sucking my fingers hoping to excite him enough. But it only got me going again as I so much enjoyed his watching me. I was even more stimulated by observing his contracting abdominal muscles. He was sexy. I started masturbating again, and he moved even closer. When he dropped down to his knees, I first thought he wanted me to take him in my mouth, but it became obvious that he intended to cum on me. How would Brandon feel about that? I decided to encourage it because it meant he would likely not take things further, and if he tried, I knew that I would let him. I wanted it. The more I considered the most obscene possibilities, the closer I came to complete ecstasy. I continued masturbating while my dirty little voice offered ideas.
‘Grab his butt.’
‘Give a little kiss to the tip of his dick.’

I felt a great urge to do these things. But I thought I shouldn’t touch him like that. He hadn’t touched me. So, I took his free hand and brought it to my boob. He played roughly with my breasts as I closed my eyes and built toward another orgasm. Then he pulled his hand away and grabbed his balls as he stroked himself harder. I knew he was getting close, and my crude little voice wanted me to do something to get him over the top.
‘Beg him to cum on your tits.’

Ironically, I had come here thinking I wanted to engage in conversation with people while I was naked and see where that goes, but I now liked that neither of us had spoken a word. So, I decided to let him know what I wanted by saying nothing and squeezing my boobs together to suggest a target. As he continued to stroke, I locked eyes with him and started licking my boobs. Then he exploded. It was an impressive amount that covered more than just my chest. I was surprised by how much this elevated my arousal. I love to experience the physical manifestation of a man’s desire for me, but this was something more. I was on the verge of an immense orgasm as he finished and wiped the head on my breast. I was so out of control, fighting the urge to lick his penis, but he quickly stood and walked away.

I was equally disappointed and relieved. As I turned to watch him moving away, I realized why he left so quickly. The group of people were walking back up the beach. That snapped me out of it a bit and I torturously stopped masturbating to decide if I should wait for them to pass. They were looking right at me. I wondered how much they had seen, and if they could tell I was covered in cum. What if someone approached me now? These thoughts only added to my excitement. I can’t say that I had never felt more like a bad girl, as I have done some crazy things, but I had never felt dirtier… and I loved it! I was already high on my raunchy behavior, and I wanted more. While watching the group pass by, I surrendered to my smutty little voice, took my boob in my hand, and licked it. I just wanted a taste. I knew it would take me to another level, and it did. I brought myself to an epic orgasm with the group still in sight. Then I laid there relishing all the residual sensations for some time while debating my little voice, who wanted me to walk back past the beach goers, to the nude border, before rinsing off in the ocean and getting dressed. I already knew that this was a day I listened to my little voice more than I should.

Other than wearing my cold, wet, sandy, see-through underwear past a few people on my way to the car, my trip home was uneventful. But I was buzzing with the whole experience for several days, although afraid of how much I enjoyed myself. I knew I couldn’t keep on like this, and if I did, I would need to continue to escalate things to keep the thrills coming – and that thought was terrifying.

I told Brandon everything… almost. As I detailed the story, I could tell he was enjoying it, so I was encouraged to confess to more. But I could not bring myself to tell him that I practically asked the guy cum on me. I said he watched me masturbate, I let him touch my boobs, and he came in the sand. Brandon was a little upset as he was concerned for my safety, and a little jealous that he was not there. I knew I would need to get even more adventurous with him in the future. But I know he was turned on by my audacity and how much pleasure I took from my adventure.

This was not the last time I went to the beach alone, but this trip is a perfect example of the kind of experiences I would instigate for what I thought would be exhibitionist fun, but ended with a sexual encounter. Whenever this happened during my adventures, I would question my motivations. I had long understood that I am an exhibitionist, but also happen to have a very high libido. I separated these characteristics. But now I wonder if my exhibitionist inclinations lead me to sexual encounters, or if I harbor desire for such sexual experiences and expose myself to this end. I just don’t know. Whatever the case, I take great pleasure from both the exhibitionist and sexual aspects of my adventures. And although I am still determined to understand it, my current lack of understanding does not keep me from loving every conflicting and confusing moment of it.




I didn’t take a camera with me to the beach that day, but I have included pictures from other trips to the same beach.

Pictures:

1: A screenshot from a video of me in my sheer bra and panties that I wore to the beach that day.

2: Returning to my towel after a walk down the beach.

3: This was about a week before that first time I went to the beach alone. Most of these other pictures are from other visits to the beach, but this one of me on the beach chair was taken the day that guy approached us while I was rubbing lotion on Brandon.

4: Sitting in the sun and hoping for attention.

5: In the shade, not trying for a tan – just happy being naked at the beach.

6: Me with the umbrella mentioned in this story.

7: Trying to be cute and keep the sun off my face.

8: Playing in the surf.

9: Just getting some sun and trying to be sexy at the same time.

10: The end.