When in our twenties, my then girlfriend and I spent a lot of time by the coast. Often we’d sunbathe nude amongst the dunes and skinny dip in the sea.
After a swim, it was usually a long walk back up the deserted beach to our stuff. Once out of the blue, a teenage boy on a motorcycle rode along the beach towards us exposed out in the open. The bike was struggling to keep going in the soft sand and finally cut out right in front of us.
I suppose that might have been a deliberate ploy by the boy to get a better view of my girlfriend in the nude. If that was the case, she appeared happy to oblige him. She didn’t deviate her path by one iota and walked past within ten feet of him.
It was almost as if she wanted to make sure he got a good look. Maybe, she knew I would enjoy seeing her show off to the kid. More likely, she just enjoyed the feeling of not giving a shit. She was always proud of her looks.
While she walked confidently by with her head held high, the boy seemed flustered and angry. He swore repeatedly at the motorbike which wouldn’t restart. I could still hear him cursing in the distance when we got back to the dunes.
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