On the beach

Joe was grateful to the French air traffic controllers, or was it the aircrew, or the baggage handlers.  Well, whoever was on strike this time it meant he had another day to spend in the south of Spain; another day – and a day without work for once.  He could take himself off for a walk along the coastal road
 
It was a baking hot June day and he spotted a small road leading down to a secluded beach.  There was a small car park at the bottom of the road, with a couple of dozen cars in it.  He looked round and the first thing he saw made him stare a bit – two nude sunbathers lying among the Mediterranean pines that backed onto the beach.  Not an unusual thing in those relaxed southern climes on a secluded beach.  You come across beaches frequented by nudists all over the place in Spain.  They’re mainly unofficial and not sort of fenced off with big signs or anything.  He remembered hearing there was just such a beach hereabouts.
 
He went and stretched out further along under the shade of the pine trees.  It was nice and relaxing there, but it was very hot dressed in a shirt and trousers.
 
As the perspiration poured off him suddenly he was struck by the thought of how nice it would be to take all his clothes off and bathe naked in the sea.  This was not a thing he had ever done before.  He had no objection in principle to nudity.  That is to say other people’s nudity, or to be more precise he admired nude girls. He thought he was quite relaxed and modern about such things.  But to have girls admiring his nudity – it was at the same time embarrassing and exciting.  Anyway, he thought, he’d always heard that once you’d taken your clothes off you didn’t feel the least embarrassed, and indeed it was the people who had retained theirs who felt out of place.
 
So, taking a deep breath, he took off his shirt, his shoes and his socks, but when it came to removing his pants he felt a strange reluctance to do so.  So he summoned up his courage, said to himself “Right - No more hesitation.  Count to ten and then they’re coming straight off, your going to strip naked and your going to walk straight down that beach and into the sea.  This is a naturist beach; nobody will even give you a second glance.  There’s nothing they’ll not have seen a million times.  Then he thought - people are going to see my willy.  His willy, his cock, his penis...  the biggest embarrassment of his life.  Or to put it another way, the smallest embarrassment of his life.  He didn’t have a big one, and ever since the girls at school had... well they had laughed so much he had been so embarrassed about it.  But now was the time... the time to be proud of his little willy.  To show it off.  Nobody would laugh.  He just had to have the courage to take all his clothes off.
 
So he did just that.  He counted to ten.  Eight, nine, ten… he pulled his pants down in one go, hesitated for a moment and then set off down the beach bare, as they say, bollock naked.  The embarrassment didn’t go off.  He was nude.  He was nude in the open air.  He was nude in public in the open air.  People could see his little willy.  He had never felt so embarrassed in all his life.  He said to himself, ‘Everyone is the same, nobody will even notice you’.
 
He didn’t dare look at anyone.  He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and just walked straight across the beach.  It was a funny sensation to be out in the open air with nothing on.  With the breeze blowing over his bare skin he suddenly felt very very nude.

At last as he reached the sea and plunged in he turned to look at the beach he had just walked down.  He had been wrong, everybody was looking at him, and the reason was immediately obvious.  They were all normally dressed in respectable bathing costumes.

 
It wasn’t a naturist beach at all.  There had just been a couple of people sunbathing au naturel in a secluded area of pines behind the beach.  Indeed it wasn’t even a secluded beach as he could see a large modern hotel two hundred yards away.  And he’d walked right down the beach past everybody stark naked.  This had not caused a fantastic stir, from their pale skins it was clear that most of the people were English, and the English are very undemonstrative.  However not a few people were looking at him expectantly.

The reason why they were looking expectantly suddenly struck him.  He had walked down the beach in the nude, now he was going to have to walk back up the beach in the nude, past everyone.  Of course on a beach people face the sea, so in his parade down the beach he had not had to face them, and they had only had a rear view of him.  Going back up he would be looking at them and they would be looking at him.  And they would be getting the more interesting view!  The view of his little willy.  Furthermore, as everybody had seen him go into the water, they would now all be waiting for him to come out

A dilemma faced him.  Should he swim down the beach and so come out where no-one knew he was naked, in which case he would have further to come back, or should he take the shortest route back through the expectant throng.

He swam around some more.  He was getting cold and his skin was starting to wrinkle.  He didn’t want to go back with nothing but wrinkly balls and a shrinking willy to display, so he had to get out quickly.  He was embarrassed enough about people staring at his willy he didn’t want them laughing at it.  Keeping his eyes straight ahead, and not daring to look at anyone he walked straight back up the beach towards his clothes.  The trouble was he could feel everyone’s eyes looking at him and he just couldn’t stop himself looking round.  It was as he feared – everybody’s eyes were magnetically drawn to his willy, and he still had twenty yards to walk.  He looked down at his willy.  Fuck! – it looked like tiny.  No wonder the ladies were looking at him with such amusement. It seemed an interminable twenty yards.  
 
He climbed over the wall at the back of the beach and there were his clothes – gone.  There was no sign of them.  It suddenly occurred to him; he’d obviously swum down the beach and come out at a different place.  It was a long beach and he didn’t even know whether to turn right or left to find his clothes.

 
He couldn’t even walk back behind the wall as the ground was sharp shingle and cut his feet to ribbons.  He had to go back on to the main beach and walk along it.  Fuck!  He was lost on a public beach in the nude.  There was nothing for it but to try one direction until he saw somewhere that he thought he recognised.

Then he did see something he recognised in the distance.  It was his shirt blowing down the beach two hundred yards away carried by the stiff sea breeze.  Any minute it was going to be carried out to sea, there was nothing for it but to run back down the beach chasing it stark naked.  I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed but as soon as you catch up with something the wind is blowing, it blows away a bit further.  And I don’t know if you ever seen a nude man running on hot, soft sand.  If not you’ll have to imagine it.  As Joe leapt up and down, his feet burning on the fiery sand, his penis flapped from side to side rhythmically, and his balls bounced up and down in time.  So as he raced after the shirt, dangly bits unsupported, everyone got a view of the bouncy bits bouncing up and down and floppy bits flapping about.   When he finally got to it, it was in the sea and he couldn’t put it on; it was soaking wet and he was soaking wet with going back in the sea to retrieve it...

That was the trouble. he was still soaking wet, and having no towel he had to sort of jump around a bit to get dry, which he tried doing so as to draw as little attention to himself as possible, when he saw two sporty looking girls lying with their back to the wall…
 

Samantha and Caroline liked the four star hotel just up the coast from Nerja.  The view on the beach was fabulous most days.  But the view today was even better.  They watched the naked man as he made his way down into the sea and looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

 
Caroline grinned.  “Nice arse”, she said in her upper class English accent.  She hadn’t seen one as good as that since the rugby final at Cambridge.

“Pity we can’t see his winkle”, said Samantha.  In the way of her family she still used the expression that Nanny had used in the nursery.

“No probs”, replied Caroline, “we just need to wait until he comes out the water.  Then he’ll be walking towards us”.  They waited expectantly grinning broadly.
 
But then they lost sight of him.  Until that is they saw him running, if that was the word, across the hot sand.  The reason for this strange activity soon became apparent as they saw he was chasing a shirt across the beach heading inexorably for the sea.

They had a good view of his winkle.  It was alternating between flapping up and down and swinging round and round as he ran despairingly after the shirt.

“Not very big is it”, said Caroline shaking her head

“Oh, I don’t know.  I think it has potential”, said Samantha “Looks to me like it’s  average in any case”

“Ten pounds says it isn’t”, said Caroline

 
“You’re on Caro”, replied Samantha “Just one thing though.  How do we measure it?  I mean, we know that six inches is the average, but how are we going to measure if this one is as big as six inches or not”

“Well you have you’re little sewing kit Sam”

“Ya, I should think so, Caro!” replied Samantha.  Any girl who had been to a decent finishing school always carried a sewing kit.  You never knew when a strap would come undone at the Hunt Ball.  But a sewing kit also contained a small tape measure as Caroline well knew.

“So, just leave the rest to me.  Come on!”, and she picked up her camera and set off to where the man was sitting breathless on the sand having retrieved his shirt.
 
Joe saw the girls approaching him with the camera and his heart gave a lurch – what did they want?  Not to photograph him surely.

“Hi”, said Caroline “I wonder if you’d be most awfully kind and take a photograph of my friend and myself together”

Joe, hid innate sense of politeness undimmed, felt unable to decline, naked though he still was.  He took the camera and snapped the two girls standing together.

“And now Sam, one of you and the kind gentleman together”, and before Joe could say anything Samantha had taken him by the arm and Caroline had the camera.  The camera clicked.  The effect of being photographed naked in public had the effect that Caroline had been looking for and Joe was dreading.  Within ten seconds his little willy was rigid in full view of the two girls.  He could have died of shame.

“Quick, Caro”, said Samantha, and before Joe could say anything the tape measure was out and the organ in question was being carefully measured.  Joe stood rooted to the spot.  He didn’t dare look. He was stark naked. His erect cock was being measured in public by two girls and he just couldn’t think what to do.

“Four and a quarter inches”, shouted Samantha out loud in triumph, "Four and a quarter!"  Faces turned to the shouting, smiles turned to grins, grins turned to sniggers, sniggers turned to loud uproarious laughter.  Four and a quarter inches!  On display for everyone to see.  Joe turned bright crimson and shut his eyes; the indignation of being on display in public was too much.  .
 
“Four and a quarter inches though”, said Samantha, “worth the ten pounds though just for the fun of measuring it”.

And as they walked off Joe was still standing there, stark naked with his eyelids down and his penis up.  He just didn’t dare open them to see the expressions on the faces of the people around.  And when he opened them his wretched shirt was blowing away again.