Barb squeezed my hand as the plane touched down in France. She isn't crazy about flying, so we typically taking driving vacations whenever we can. It means we spend a few extra hours in the car, but have learned that if we relax and enjoy the journey instead of worrying whether we're making good time then the drive can be just as enjoyable as the destination. We like to think of ourselves as kinky road warriors.
Our destination for this trip was Cap d'Agde, sometimes called "Naked City", an all nude village in the South of France. Before it transformed itself into a significant naturist location with first rate hotels, restaurants and shops, Naked City was a sleepy little sea side village with small cottages that were empty most of the year. We are avid nudists who dream of visiting naturist locations all around the world. Other than Jamaica, this was our first nude location outside of the United States and we were thrilled to be here to attend the wedding of Barb's college roommate.
After we checked into the resort and ditched our clothes, we headed out to see some of the sights before meeting the wedding party at the beach. We were pleased to discover the village was alive with colorful banners, music, and small booths offering food, drink and unusual crafts. Barb was thrilled to find an ankle bracelet made of tiny rose crystals. It was the only thing adorning her hourglass figure. We sipped glasses of champagne, munched on truffles, and listened to a string quartet playing Mozart while people watching. Many of the nudists we saw were covered in body paint that imitated the costumes of mythic characters.
As enticing as the street festival was for us, the beach was calling. A nude beach is much like any other beach except for the lack of bathing suits. Nude sunbathers are a cross-section of society, with representatives from many nations, age groups, and body types. Generally, folks at Naked City seemed to be younger and in better shape than some of the other beaches we frequent.
We found our group roasting away in a quiet part of the beach at the foot of tall cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. I was torn between the bluest water I'd ever seen and some of the most beautiful oiled flesh I'd ever laid my eyes upon. It was a beautiful location filled with beautiful people and I was content to be in my element.
The first time I stepped onto a nude beach filled with other like minded people was one of the most liberating experiences of my life. It's about freedom. It's about connecting to our true nature. It's about the simple pleasure of feeling sun on skin. It's about revealing ourselves to others without costumes to prop up our fragile egos. It's about seeing another just as they came into this world, naked and real. We don't realize how much we rely on clothing and accessories to create a false identity. At first glance, we size people up based upon an image that they created and which isn't real. These false images shapes our attitude toward them going forward, but thankfully, all of that nonsense disappears on a nude beach.
As I was admiring the Mediterranean Sea, I heard a squeal and returned my attention to the naked flesh roasting in the sun. I saw a dark skinned, brown eyed, big haired young woman with a flat chest, strait boyish hips and pubic hair trimmed to a faint hint of a landing strip fly toward us. When she reached us, she jumped straight into Barb's arms, while wrapping her legs tightly around her tiny waist. Without a word she planted a kiss on Barb's lips that quickly grew into a sexy tongue dance.
In contrast to the tiny little thing coiled around her, Barb is a blue-eyed blond with classic Nordic good looks. She's on the tall side at 5'9", sporting big boobs, a tiny waist and a tight round ass you could use to bounce coins for your favorite drinking game.
"God, I've missed you, Wendy," gasped Barb after they broke the kiss.
Wendy tucked a lock of golden hair behind Barb's ear and said, "I'm so glad you came."
She gave her a final squeeze and then dropped to the ground. Wendy then turned to me and when I saw her hand move in my direction I thought she intended to introduce herself with a handshake, so I stuck my hand out, which she ignored and grabbed my junk instead.
"And you must be Kenny," said Wendy. "I've heard so much about this big cock of yours. Come meet my fiancé, George, and the rest of the wedding party."
George was 6'4" and packed with hard muscle. Thanks to a sweet, almost shy smile, you'd never guess he was an All Pro NFL linebacker. I had seen clits bigger than his tiny dick and couldn't help but wonder if he might be a grower rather than a shower. Like Wendy, he reached for my cock in lieu of a handshake.
"I've heard all about you, Kenny," said George. "Is it true you can fuck for hours without blowing your load?"
I tried my best to fake modesty, but the smile I was feeling wouldn't stay hidden inside, and so I answered, "You can't believe half the stuff Barb says about me, but that one is true."
Barb chimed in with, "I love this man so much it's possible I'm prone to exaggeration when I sing his praises."
"You're a lucky girl," said George.
"I'm the lucky one," I said.
"We are all blessed," said Wendy. "George, don't hog Barb and Kenny. Let everyone else get a chance to meet them."
The other four members of the wedding party greeted us with hugs and smiles. The maid of honor was Wendy's childhood friend, Lisa. She was average height with short strawberry blond hair that matched top and bottom, round hips and breasts beginning to swell from pregnancy. Based on the size of her baby bump, I guessed her to be about four months into her mommy journey. There is something about the hormones of a pregnant woman that radiates good health and makes them sexy as hell. Maybe it's the weird diet...things like combining dill pickles and pistachio ice cream. Hell if I know.
Lisa's baby daddy, Jeff, was 5'10', slim, sported a Hollywood square jaw, with piercing blue eyes, and a military style buzz cut. His pubes were shaved, balls huge, and after he hugged Barb his hard cock stood at attention, vertical to his washboard abs.
The best man was George's team mate, Frank. He is a massive left tackle the size of a mini-van with a heart to match. His head was shaved, arms covered in ink, and he had a cock that hung halfway to his knees. Frank is one of those people who have never met an enemy, unless you want to count the other team, and that's only for the length of Sunday's game. After the game they might as well be his long lost brothers, considering how much back slapping and hugging that goes on between them.
Frank's plus one was Tamiko, a lovely Asian femboy with a soft face, dominated by big eyes and lips painted fire engine red. She had no body hair other than her head, where black hair fell straight unto her shoulders, leading the eye down to a flat chest highlighted by puffy brown nipples. I've seen pussy lips twice the size of the tiny ball sack tucked between her slim runner's legs and her soft dick wasn't much bigger than Barb's fat clit. I felt my cock twinge as I imagined burying my cock in her tight little butt and those long nails, painted black, digging into my own ass. When she spoke to say hello, I expected an Asian accent, but her soft breathy voice sounded Midwestern, maybe Michigan.
The wedding party had set up camp with a large open tent the same color as the pink panther which provided refuge when needed from the hot sun. Within its protective cover were several coolers filled with bottles of chilled champagne, Budweiser, hard cider, soft drinks, and bottled water. Other than the coolers and a few beach bags, the tent was empty. Everyone chose instead to sit in a circle, drink and get to know one another.
