Self-Discovery Voyeur Story

I love being looked at; I absolutely adore it when men look at my body with admiration and desire. I first experienced this sensation about 20 years ago during my first visit to a clothing optional beach. My husband (D) and I, in our first year of marriage, discovered that a legal CO beach was in the town we were vacationing in. It was he that suggested we go, and I readily agreed, feeling comfort in numbers and D’s support.

We arrived at the beach, and I noticed that it was quite crowded, with men outnumbering women. Nonetheless, we entered the CO area, staked our space, spread the blanket and… stripped. It was exhilarating to be naked under the hot sun, with strangers’ eyes at the ready to steal a peek! And it was reassuring to know that not a soul would recognise us. I was fit and confident in my body and immediately noticed that many of the men were glancing surreptitiously at me. D also noticed this and asked me if I enjoyed the attention: I confessed a thrill to being the focus of discreet voyeurism. What an understatement! I was on fire! My breasts are small, but I love how responsive my nipples are to the slightest arousal, and that day I was in a constant state of titillation. But my best asset was, and is, my legs: long, shapely stems that culminated in a dark bush with inner lips that can protrude even when not stimulated. Given the blaze that had been kindled between my legs by sun, strangers’ gazes, and naughty whispers from my lover, I dared not look at myself.

We lay there people-watching, or, more often than not, admiring each other under the hot sun, its unrelenting heat seemingly concentrated between my legs, and whispering to each other about the possibilities if the beach were deserted. We were both highly charged, and I revelled in the sun and occasional appreciative look. I did not have to touch myself: I knew that I was very wet and very swollen. My blood, it seemed, had rushed to my pubic area, leaving me slightly dizzy and giddy. Indeed, D would mention every now and then that I was glistening beautifully, and that I was resplendent, redolent, and ripe. The praise served to churn my juices all the more.

The day was so hot that it was impossible to stay on the beach and not go in the water. Now, it was one thing to be spied upon by a small number of men in the immediate area of where I was laying naked; the possibility of easily covering myself always existed. However, it was quite another to actually get up and make the relatively long journey to the water, without a stitch or cover, between rows and columns of observing men. I realised that walking down to the water would be somewhat easy: the crowd in front of us had their back to me, and once I walked by, my back would be towards them. On the other hand, the return trek from the water would place me on a veritable catwalk. All of this flashed through my mind in an instant as D & I got up and went into the water.

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