Summer Holiday/Spain Day 3 Nudist beach
The room phone rings, making you jump. "Hey sleepyhead; how do you fancy a nudist beach picnic?" He sounded indecently cheery for such an early hour. “We're down at the pool bar - if you hurry you’ll have time for coffee and a croissant. Ten minutes was all it took me to wash, shave and get dressed in a loose shirt and shorts.
When I got to the poolside, Bob, Mary and the children were sitting around one of the little tables eating breakfast. Mary was wearing a pretty blue dress tied in at the waist; without any makeup on, and she looked a lot younger than when I had first seen her. Bob was in shorts and a floral shirt, Molly is wearing a short pleated skirt, T-shirt and flip-flops and, to your surprize, is wearing a frilly dress and his flip-flops have a flower on the top, just like his sister’s.
“You’d better warn him,” Mary said, eating yoghurt out of the pot.
Bob looks at me. “This beach we’re going to; it’s a bit special, private.” You must have looked puzzled because he goes on. “Have you ever been to a nudist beach?” You shake your head. “Well,” he says. “If you had, you’d know that there were all kinds of rules about how to behave, especially with children around. The difference with this one is that it’s very private and there are hardly any rules.”
Mary interrupted. “The main rule is - you respect everyone and do nothing with anyone that they’re not happy about.”
Molly and Harry have slipped off their stools and are having an impromptu race around the pool. “Sounds good to me,” You say.
A waiter comes over and tells Bob that his car is outside. There's a pile of stuff beside Mary’s chair and you were given a cold box to carry. We all troop out (or stagger in your case - it's heavy) to the front of the hotel where a big old Range Rover is parked. Bob drives and Mary sits up front next to him, so you end up on the back seat, with Molly on one side and Harry on the other. Having their bare legs pressed against yours does nothing for your peace of mind.
As we drive off Molly elbows you. When you bend down, she whispers in your ear. "I don't got any panties on." Just in case you don't believe her, she pulls her skirt up to reveal bare thighs and smooth little mons.
“I have,” Harry says, not bothering to whisper. He pulls the hem of his dress up to his waist to reveal a pair of pink panties which are stretched over the bulge of his cock and balls.
This causes the inevitable reaction and both children burst into fits of giggles as your swelling cock pushes out the front of your shorts. You look up and see that Bob is watching in his mirror with an amused grin on his face. “Wait ‘till we get there,” he says. He seems to know where he's going as we follow the coast road for a while and then turn off onto a dirt track. All we can see on either side are scraggy pine trees. After a while, we turn off again and drive onto what is little more than a sandy track leading into the dunes. You are surprised when we stop at a metal gate in a fairly substantial fence. “It used to belong to the army,” Bob says by way of explanation as he gets out and punches a code into the lock.
Another half mile further on we come to an area with a dozen cars parked up. We bail out and you end up with the cold box again. Then we set off along a sandy path between some trees. There's a bit of a climb and then, when we get to the top there is a glorious view of the azure Mediterranean. The sky is faded blue with just the odd fluffy white clouds and you are dripping with sweat by the time we get to the edge of the sandy beach.
There are quite a few people around. Half a dozen kids playing beach volleyball and several couples, some old and some young, just strolling – and everyone is naked. You decide that you prefer it when the old folks keep their kit on, whilst naked children are a sight to gladden the heart (and other organs). Bob leads us off the beach into a kind of grassy hollow, screened by some trees, where we set up camp. You put the cold box down and everyone else gets to work to make a sort of camp.
When you are finished, Mary insists that the children need to be creamed. “We don’t want sunburn,” she says. The children waste no time stripping off and Bob spreads factor 50 all over Molly, while Mary does the same for Harry, laughing when his cock gets stiff. As soon as the children are protected to Mummy’s satisfaction, they decide that it's her turn to be creamed.
Like the children, Mary is naked under her dress. Her tits are small and firm, with big brown nipples and you can see the pale outline from where she’d been sunbathing in a bikini. You begin to wonder if she truly is the mother of the two children. Her belly is flat, with no sign of stretch marks and there's no sign of any hair between her legs. You sit and watch as the children set to work. Bob comes over to sit beside you. “She’s quite something isn’t she,” he says with a grin. Harry's smearing white cream over her tits while Molly creams her legs.
“You’re quite a family,” I say. “How long have you been… err… playing together?”
“Ever since they were babies,” he says. “Mary’s parents were missionaries and she was born on a Pacific island where children were introduced to sex before they were weaned. The whole population was practically wiped out by an epidemic of measles and Mary was evacuated to Australia which is where I met her. She was twelve years old and it was kinda love at first sight."
Interesting though the story was, I couldn’t take my eyes off what was going on in front of us. The children have swapped places and the game has moved on from spreading sun cream to something more. Molly is massaging her mother’s tits and sucking on her nipples, making them stand up even more, while her brother seems to be experimenting to see how many fingers he can get in his mother's cunt.
Bob stands up. “Let’s go for a walk and leave them to it,” he says.
What do you do?
Reluctant as you are to tear your eyes away from their little sex show, You follow Bob