Ingrid In Ibiza

The days, until it was her turn, seemed to fly by and yet they slowly tormented her - Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip - It felt like Chinese water torture.

July the fourteenth was approaching fast and Ingrid had never even been topless on any of the beaches around Playa D'en Bossa in all the five years she'd worked out here, let alone nude. Just over the dunes from her cafe was Platja des Cavallet, a fully nudist beach. She had walked down along its shoreline as her daily commute the first couple of years she had worked in Ibiza. The Northern end was straight couples; in the middle were the bisexuals; the Southern end was gay males. It was like Kinsey scale brought to life on soft white sand next to turquoise seas. The sight always made her a little wet before work.

The first problem was that everyone on Ibiza seemed to be the most beautiful specimen of human you could get. Ingrid was now forty-one and fully aware of the affect gravity had had on her. The second was that she would be nude in front of her colleagues for a full six hour shift. She knew she could not back out, though, as she had seen four of them naked already after they had lost "nude day forfeit Jenga" the previous years.

She needed to lose some inhibitions beforehand, so she decided to pop on the boat to Formentera. She thought no-one she knew would see her over there.

Once on the island, Ingrid hired a bike for the day and cycled North to the dunes alone. After a twenty minute leisurely cycle, she found a spot to chain her bike and headed to the sand. The sunbathers there wore very little. There were tits, bums, cocks, and pussies displayed everywhere. If she was going to get naked this was the spot. The thought caused a flutter in her stomach and a tingle in her groin.

Ingrid headed to an empty patch by the dark blue water, removed her rucksack and threw down a large picnic blanket decorated with an Indian Buddhist moonstone. She striped down to her yellow bikini and applied the sun-cream.

The sea was full of pleasure boats and yachts. She wondered if they were voyeurs, just anchored up to look at all the flesh on display. The thought of being spied upon made her horny. She decided to go for a dip.

After she had cooled off and returned to her spot she noticed her yellow top was completely see-through; her big brown nipples were on display for everyone. By the time she had taken a can of pre-mixed gin and tonic from her rucksack, she had decided to whip them out. She stood up, untied the string and let her boobs fall out. A sudden wave of self-consciousness hit her. A young man in the water, wearing only mirrored sunglasses, seemed to be looking her way. He also seemed to be getting aroused. She sat down quickly.

As she applied the sun-cream to her breasts and dark areola, she realised that if her cheap yellow bikini top had become see-though, then maybe her matching thong had done, too. Ingrid nervously looked down. The shape of her labia was clear, but she didn't think it was on show, but couldn't help wondering whether the man in the mirrored shades had seen her nakedness.

It made her wet. She lay back on her elbows and enjoyed the feeling of the hot sun on her exposed tits. She drank her gin and decided to take her things and go into the dunes to get fully naked in a little more privacy.

She packed her blanket into her bag, thought about putting her top back on and then decided to pack that too, and headed into the dunes with her boobs on display for everyone who cared to look.

After passing a couple putting on a show for a couple of masturbating men, she found a secluded spot to get naked. She put down her blanket, took out a second can of gin and tonic, took a sip, and quickly dropped her thong bikini bottoms. Ingrid turned around. There was no-one to be seen, so she lay down and got out the bottle of lotion. There was a strange buzzing noise that she didn't recognise. She began to apply the cream. The buzzing was getting louder and it was behind her. She slowly turned around too see a drone hovering ten metres away.

It was definitely filming her.

Ingrid froze, then laughed, "Well I guess that's me all over the internet then," she said to the filming audience. The drone swooped left then right, but continued to "look" directly at her. Ingrid took a large gulp of her alcohol and sat down to finish off creaming her skin. The drone hovered. Watched. Ingrid knew she didn't want to burn her labia, but it would look like a performance if she was to cream it in front of the hidden audience. Her heart was racing. She held her legs tightly together with her knees up and stayed still. After about a minute of her sitting like this, the drone pilot was either running out of batteries, or wanted to see some new titties, so they flew off to harass some other beach goers.

Ingrid breathed out a sigh of relief and relaxed. She spread her legs wide and lotioned up her smooth waxed mons. It was ready for action; open and soaked. She fingered herself a little, but stopped before she came. The rest of the afternoon was spent sipping her cans of gin and basking fully nude in the warm Mediterranean sunshine. Every now and then people would walk by and mostly pretend not to look at her, others would smile and say "Hola." She just gave them a friendly wave. She enjoyed strangers seeing her nude, she thought, she was certain some of them were enjoying seeing her, too, and this made it even more exciting.

On the boat trip back to Playa D'en Bossa, she was happy with her first public display, but her anxiety about being the nude greeter at work in front of her boss and co-workers, on July fourteenth, was once again growing.

National Nude Day was fast approaching.