I scrawled my signature across the bottom of the page and that was it, ten years of marriage ended at a stroke. In truth the marriage had ended years ago, we'd even sold the matrimonial home and each of us had bought smaller places some months back. There were no children thank God, no that was wrong, both of us would dearly have loved to have children, but by the time the 'right time' had come round the marriage was already foundering, and neither of us thought it right to start a family at that time.
It was amazing how little niggles could turn into major earthquakes, complete with their own aftershocks going on for days, and that was how we'd been. What was the root cause? Probably sex, our libidos were just not matched, mine was strong, I wanted lots of loving, but my wife, ex-wife now, didn't seem to want to give it. Sure she never said no, but then again she never actually initiated sex, never caressed me lovingly, never demonstrated the love she had for me. Before we were married my friends had called her a Victorian Prude, and I could now see how blinkered I'd been to that.
Never mind, it was all behind me now and I could get on with my life, perhaps find someone else, although I wasn't exactly keen on doing that, the wounds were too fresh, too raw to go through that again. But what I could do was enjoy myself. I was still in my thirties, still fit and healthy, and even if I did say so myself, not all that bad looking.
I'd already taken the first step, I'd booked myself a holiday in the Canaries, back to a place I'd been with her, where there was plenty of nude sunbathing. I'd always wanted to try it, the feeling of freedom, of not having wet swim shorts flapping round me, but she'd always balked at the idea. In the early days she'd sunbathe topless, but that had stopped, and when I'd suggested trying a nude beach she'd accused me of being a dirty old man. That had stung, of course I enjoyed looking at women, the fewer clothes the better, but that was just part of the male psyche. So we'd stalked past them, her nose high in the air in her conservative one piece swimsuit.
Now I was going back, looking forward to a new experience, although I didn't particularly relish the idea of being on my own. I'd experienced staying in hotels on my own before, solitary dining, sitting in the bar with a book and had found it a bit dispiriting. I wasn't naturally garrulous, and had hated people latching on to us on holiday, so it was with some trepidation that I had booked, a regular Tour Operator, preferring to avoid the singles scene, at least for now.
The time came round quickly, and before I realised it I was setting off, going through the interminable procedures at the airport, the flight and finally getting to my hotel. It was in a lovely setting, perched up on some cliffs, well more of a bluff really, some steps leading down to a sandy beach. We'd actually been there before and I was familiar with the set-up which helped, and once I'd got to my room and unpacked there was still time for a quick walk along the beach before dinner.
I changed into my swim shorts and with just a light tee shirt on, went down onto the beach. There were plenty of families there, some topless women, but I knew I had to walk a bit further for the nude section. Sure enough I started to come across the odd couple, some brazenly lying in the open, others partially hidden in little circles of stones. I'd always been amazed at who actually embraced the naturist lifestyle, it really was a complete spectrum of humanity, from young, lithe twenty somethings, to old wrinkled people, everything sagging where once it had been standing proud. That was part of the charm really, it wasn't 'look how beautiful I am', it was just the way people wanted to be.
Most I saw had shaved all their hair off, I'd done the same myself, trimming away at my unruly pubes for a clean look, and feeling a little self-conscious in my shorts I stopped and took them off together with my tee shirt. It felt strange, but even with my deathly white skin I immediately felt as though I was part of them, not just some lookey-loo. Of course I was concerned that I'd get an erection, but although pussies and tits abounded I remained reassuringly flaccid. That was something I was a bit concerned about, just what was the etiquette when the inevitable happened and I got a hard-on? I'd looked it up and basically it said just to be discreet, it was a perfectly natural reaction, but even still how was I supposed to hide a nine inch cock? OK, I exaggerate, I wasn't that big, I had nothing to be ashamed of, but it would still be blatantly obvious. I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.
I reached what appeared to be the epicentre of the nudist area, everyone was naked, the lovely beach backing onto some scrubby dunes, creating several little enclaves that all looked quite inviting, mostly filled with groups, but there were plenty of couples and even, I was glad to see, some individuals, both male and female so I wouldn't stick out like the proverbial spare prick at a wedding.
Back to the hotel to shower and change for dinner. I stood under the streaming water and my mind went back to some of the sights I'd encountered on the beach and instinctively I tugged at my cock, feeling it stiffen under my hand. Soon I was stroking it vigorously, picturing all the naked bodies and I erupted, spraying my cum all over the glass cubicle as I braced myself against the wall. Somewhat guiltily I washed it all off, and watched it swirl down the plughole.
The hotel had a long trousers policy in the dining room and I'd brought several pairs and some smarter shirts, and was pleased to see that they were enforcing the rule, everyone looking quite smartly dressed. The other guests were split pretty evenly between Germans and English, some in larger groups, which tended to be a bit noisier. Nevertheless the atmosphere was pleasant and the food selection was pretty good.
After dinner I had a drink or two at the bar, enjoying the music coming from a singer sitting at a piano. There was some formal entertainment but I decided to give it a miss, going back to my room for an early night. I slept pretty well, dreaming strangely enough of my ex-wife, sunbathing totally naked on a beach where everyone else was fully covered. The mind was a strange thing.
I woke with my usual morning wood as light was streaming through the blinds, still an hour before I needed to get up. My hand found my cock and started to stroke it, thinking of the naked forms on the beach. Perhaps I
was
just a dirty old man I thought and stopped, but the habit of my morning wank was too hard to break and soon my orgasm was exploding. I caught most of it in some conveniently placed tissues and then got up to start my morning ritual.
I skipped the shower, deciding there was little point if I was going to spend the day on the beach, I'd shower at night, and went down to breakfast. The day looked as though it was going to be lovely and I started to look forward to my time there. I packed some essentials in a small rucksack and set off for the beach, tracing my route of the previous evening, finally coming back to the scrubby dunes.
