My Naked Marathon with Amanda

I picked up my plastic-wrapped iPhone from my pocket and started checking the distance myself, not wanting the phone to end up in the water.

"It's about two kilometres," I concluded.

"Piece of cake!"

"You think so?"

"I'm up to it. If you don't want to come, it's all right with me. You just stay here. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Amanda turned her Kayak at set course for the German coast.

"Are you sure about this, Amanda?"

"Now be like me, Svend! Be a little adventurous!" Amanda shouted, paddling on without turning her head in my direction.

Soon I caught up with her. The waves were a little more noticeable on the open fjord than at the coast but seemed harmless. I carefully kept track of any other vessels crossing our course ahead of us. Fortunately, there we no big ships, only minor yachts and motorboats who waved at the two brave kayakers on the fjord's open water.

"How deep is it here, do you think?"

"I don't know. Maybe 20 meters. Deep enough for Hitler's u-boats."

"Too bad we can't see the Nazi gold from here."

"Yeah. But I guess divers have found it long ago. If there ever was any."

"You're such a party pooper! Don't you have a little imagination. Boring lawyer!"

I didn't want Amanda to think of me as boring, as it might affect my chances of finally having sex with her back at the house later that afternoon.

"Okay. Next time we'll bring diving equipment and look for it," I suggested, without actually meaning it.

"That's more like it. I'll take back 'boring'!"

The last hundreds of meters toward the German shore seemed the longest. For some minutes it felt close. But then we didn't seem to get any closer, until we could see the details of the trees and a walking couple waving at us from the stony beach.

4. Going for a swim

"I could do with a swim now," Amanda said.

We were both sweaty from the exercise.

"The beach isn't good here. It's all stones and seaweed. Maybe a little further down," I suggested.

We turned left and went south along the beach. After a few minutes the beach and the bottom under our kayaks became sandier.

"Look at the people on the beach," Amanda said. "They're naked. This must be a nude beach. Which comes in handy as I left my bikini at home."

On the beach we saw a few elderly couples sitting, all naked, on their towels.

We paddled through the shallow water and parked our kayaks on the beach, then took off our life vests, quickly undressed and tossed our clothes into the kayaks. Amanda lit a cigarette and threw the Camel pack and lighter back into her kayak.

The sight of the naked Amanda lighting her cigarette immediately made my dick stand stone-hard at attention. I turned away to hide it from the elderly, naked sun-bathers on the beach and started walking into the fjord.

"Wait for me!" Amanda shouted and ran through the ankle-deep water with her cigarette.

"Oh! I can see why you're in a hurry," she smiled at me, as she caught up with me and discovered my erection.

She took a deep drag and switched her cigarette from her right to left hand and took a firm grip around my dick with her right:

"I think I have a remedy for that," she said and let go again.

We walked and walked through the endless seascape of shallow water and small sandbanks before the water finally started to deepen. When Amanda's nipples were covered, we were far from the beach, our kayaks, and the sun-bathers that had all become tiny.

"Will hold this for a sec?" Amanda asked and held out her cigarette.

I took it and she dived in, swimming a few meters and back.

She got back cigarette and inhaled.

"We have to do this quietly. Remember, sound travels far over water," she smiled seductively before wrapping her legs around my thighs and using one hand to skilfully insert my dick into her, in more sense than one, wet pussy while holding the other hand with her, still burning, cigarette around my head.

For a second I tried to convince myself that the people on the beach would perceive our activity simply as a very affectionate and extremely intense hug. And then again, I didn't care what complete strangers on a German nude beach were thinking of me and Amanda fucking. I simply enjoyed what I had been longing for badly ever since meeting her the night before in the pedestrian zone in Odense.

I couldn't hold back the load of sperm that I forcefully, and probably too loudly, ejaculated into her. Minutes later I slowly used my finger to give her an orgasm while she smoked her cigarette all the way to the filter and flipped it into the fjord.

"You've been practicing, Svend!" she complimented my skills with a smile.

"So have you, Amanda!"

"Yeah. Probably too much!" she smiled sarcastically.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... there's probably one or two men I shouldn't have fucked. Like my ex-husband. Or the guy I left yesterday. Forget it. Let's swim!"

We swam further into the fjord and finally reached a position where we couldn't touch the bottom with our toes.

"Let's look for some Nazi gold," Amanda suggested.

We dived next to each other in the faint underwater light above the seaweed. I enjoyed looking at her freely flowing tits for some seconds before we had to resurface for air.

It was like the light had changed.

"Look!" Amanda said and pointed to dark clouds in the west. "I think it's going to rain."

"Yeah. It's about time. It's been hot and humid for days."

There was a roar of thunder somewhere in the distance. Big drops of rain hit the surface of the fjord around us.

"We'd better get back to the beach. Swimming in a thunderstorm can be dangerous," I suggested.

We started to swim toward the beach where we saw the last sunbathers get up and rush back to the shelter of their cars without even getting dressed.

"Wait, Svend! Where are the kayaks?" Amanda asked with an uneasy tone in her voice.

I scanned the wide stretch of beach in front of us. The two red kayaks should be easy to locate. But they were nowhere to be seen.

"I don't know. Maybe someone moved them to make sure that our stuff didn't get wet?" I shouted to Amanda. The rain was heavy and loud and there was another rumble of thunder from further inside the fjord.

"You think so?"

We could walk on the sandy bottom now and moved through the water as fast as we could. The sky had darkened all around us and zigzag lightnings started appearing at the horizon. Finally, we reached the shallow water and were able to run to the beach.

"Here!" I said. "This was where we left them."

"Are you sure?" Amanda shouted.

"Yes. Must be. Where can they be?" I yelled back and looked at the hill behind the beach and the bushes and trees on it. There were no houses around us.

We crossed the beach through the downpour and reached a carpark just to see the last car drive off, leaving the beach.

Gradually, we arrived at the bleak conclusion that someone had taken our kayaks and our clothes and that we were now in Germany in a thunderstorm with no papers, no credit cards, no passports, and no clothes -- a situation that seemed to give new meaning to the word 'naked'.

For some minutes we ran around aimlessly in the enormous cloudburst, searching desperately for my parents' two red kayaks that couldn't really disappear like that. The rain was dense over the fjord and the Danish coastline two kilometres away had become invisible. At some point rain was so heavy that each big drop that hit our naked bodies hurt. The thunderstorm was right above us now with loud thunder and lightnings striking not far away. We sought refuge and stood with our arms wrapped around each other under some trees that did, however, not offer any meaningful shelter against this kind of rain.

After five or ten minutes the rain eased off a bit. We looked at each other and walked back to the beach without really knowing what to do.

"Okay. Somebody stole them," I concluded.

"No shit, Sherlock," Amanda commented.

"It's two kilometres across. I don't think I can swim that far," I admitted and pointed toward the reappearing Danish coastline.

"I know I can't," Amanda agreed.

"That settles it then. The other way around it's probably around 50 kilometres. And we have to cross a national border where we need to show our passports."

"The other way around? What do you mean?"

"Well. If we can't paddle or swim across the fjord, we have to get all around the fjord on land, which is around 50 kilometres I guess."

"That's a long way."

"It is. Even with clothes."

"I need a cigarette, Svend!"

"I know you do. But that's the least of our problems right now."

"Have you ever been addicted to cigarettes?"

"Nope."

"Then you don't know what you're talking about, my friend."

"Good point, Amanda."

"So what's your plan?"

"Well... we might as well start walking. It's that way to Flensburg which is at the bottom of the fjord."

5. Going for a walk

I pointed to the west and we started walking slowly up a path where sharp stones and rough gravel cut painfully into our bare feet.

As we reached a deserted asphalt road, it had stopped raining. There were deep puddles of water on both sides of the road.

"It's like this road goes north-south. But we need to go west."

"Okay. Let's go over that field," Amanda said and jumped over an electric fence and with her bouncing boobs and onto a pasture with longhorn cattle somewhere far away. For some time we walked across fields in the wet grass, steering clear of the dung piles.

"There's a house. Let's ask for help there," Amanda suggested.

We walked around the old farmhouse and across a courtyard that was covered with small, sharp stones.

"Do you speak any German? Because I don't," Amanda said as we were about to ring the doorbell.

"Me neither. I took French and Spanish in school. Not that I speak any of those."

"They'll probably speak English here," Amanda suggested and pushed the button.

We couldn't hear a doorbell. After half a minute we tried again. Then we started knocking. After the third attempt we finally heard slow steps inside the house. The door opened slowly.

An elderly woman in an apron opened the door. At the sight of a naked couple at her door, she angrily shouted something in German and slammed the door even before we had had a chance to say anything.

"That went well," Amanda pointed out with a sarcastic smile.

We tried knocking again without any result. Then we left along the tree-lined driveway to the road. After a few minutes, a blue Mercedes came toward us. The man at the wheel honked his horn as he passed us. Amanda waved while I tried to ignore him.

"Look! There's another house," I said.

"It's more modern. They'll probably speak English," Amanda guessed.

"Yeah, maybe! At least they might not be afraid of naked people."

We walked up another driveway. There was an empty carport with some laundry. I rang the doorbell and knocked. No answer.

"Did you notice the jerseys?" Amanda asked.

"What jerseys?"

"The laundry. In the carport. We could borrow two of them."

"Yes. We could. This is an emergency. Everybody would understand."

We walked to the carport and inspected the 15 football shirts. Each had a logo of a local sponsor, some kind of builder judging by the logo, at the front and a name and a number on the back. All were size XXL.

"You only need 11 for a team, right?" Amanda asked.

"Yes. I'm sure they won't mind that we borrow two," I agreed.

"There's one with my name," Amanda said and took down no. 11, 'Petersen' from the laundry line.

"What do you mean? Is your name Petersen?" I asked.

"Yeah. I took my husband's name and kept it when we got divorced. So I'm a Petersen now."

I found no shirt with my name and chose no. 2 'Müller', which is probably just as anonymous in Germany as Petersen is in Denmark.

The Petersen jersey covered Amanda down to her mid-thighs, which made her decent if not stylish. I had to pull mine down to make it almost cover my dick. We continued down the road in our football shirts.

A couple of cars drove by and we were confident enough to signal with our thumbs that we would like a ride. But no one stopped.

After another 20 minutes or so Amanda pointed to the western horizon:

"I think there's another rain on its way."

Five minutes later we were in the middle of another deluge with nowhere to hide. Luckily, there was no thunder or lightning this time, but our new clothes got completely soaked as we walked stubbornly through the pouring rain that stopped just as suddenly as it had started a few minutes later.

"I now see the point of wet T-shirt contests," I commented, looking at Amanda.

"You like this?" she asked teasingly and displayed her impressive front with the nipples that showed distinctly through the garment.

"Very much," I said and kissed her on the mouth.

We both briefly took off our shirts to wring them and hurried to put them on again when a white VW Transporter approached in the distance.

"I guess it's difficult to hitch a ride when you're wet," Amanda said pessimistically but, nevertheless, held out her thumb.

6. Hitching a ride

Miraculously the van stopped. Inside was a guy in his forties with a hipster beard and heavily tattooed arms, smoking a cigarette. He asked something in German.

"Sorry. Do you speak English?" Amanda asked with her most charming smile.

"Yess. Wis a schlait Tschermann akzent," he replied with a smile. "Where are you going?"

"Ehhh... Flensburg," Amanda said.

"That's where I'm going. Get in."

Amanda sat in the middle with me at the door. We had been going for a few hundred meters when he asked Amanda:

"So you're a friend of Uwe's?"

"Who?"

"I thought so. Uwe Petersen is the centre forward on the TSV Glücksburg Old Boys football team. And you're wearing his shirt."

"Oh..."

"Did you steal those shirts?"

"We borrowed them," Amanda tried.

"So you were going to bring them back?"

"Absolutely," I tried to convince him.

"Let's do it right away," he said and hit the brakes.

"But we... we're naked underneath," I protested.

"Yes. But I don't want to be around when Uwe finds out that his shirt has been stolen. There's a blanket behind the seats that you can use to cover yourself with."

Amanda picked up a brownish blanket that seemed and smelled like it had been in the old van forever and used for all sorts of things. We took off Mr. Petersen's and Mr. Müller's shirts and wrapped the blanket around us instead.

Our driver turned the van and drove back to the house with the laundry line.

"You do it!" Amanda suggested, as the car stopped.

"Can I have the blanket then?" I asked.

"Okay!" Amanda said as I left her alone and naked in a strange German's van while I tried to hide my private parts under the dirty blanket while simultaneously putting the shirts back on the laundry line with the pins.

When I came back to the car the mood had lifted. Amanda was enjoying a much-needed cigarette while comparing tattoos with the driver.

"I'm Werner by the way," he said as he turned the van around to head for Flensburg.

"I'm Amanda. And my last name actually is Petersen. But I'm not related to your friend Uwe, the centre forward."

"I didn't think so," nodded Werner.

"And I'm Svend."

"Nice to meet you both," Werner said. "As I was telling Ms. Petersen here, I have a tattoo shop in Flensburg and we were discussing some of her very nice tattoos, while you were busy hanging laundry. And there's beer in the cooler if you want. I do!"

I picked three cold, clip-lock beer bottles from the local Flensburg brewery. They opened with loud plopps and we drank and talked as I tried to hide my unwelcome erection under the blanket. Amanda's nakedness and the sexy way she inhaled from her cigarette really turned me on.

"So what are you, apart from Danish? Are you a pair of fanatic nudists who insist on running around with no clothes all the way to and from the beach?"

"Obviously not," Amanda said and blew out smoke. "Then we wouldn't have stolen those football shirts, would we? We're kayakers actually."

"You are? So where are your kayaks?"

"Good question! We would like to know too!" Amanda said.

I let her do the talking while I tried to control my erection. She told the story about us kayaking across the fjord and parking the kayaks on the beach before going swimming. She left out the underwater sex but described in great detail how the door of the old farmhouse was slammed in our faces and how we 'borrowed' the football jerseys, before she butted out her cigarette in the full ashtray in front of her.

"Quite a trip you're on. So what's your plan now?"

Amanda looked at me for assistance. Apparently, she didn't have the same geographical outline of the fjord and the border and how to get back to the summer house as I did.

"We want to get across the border," I said.

"Yes. Without papers? You know the Danish police and military are checking. By the way, there's a bag of pre-rolled joints in the glove compartment. Just take one, if you like."

Amanda leant over me and opened the glove compartment. She found the bag, took out a joint and lit it with Werner's cigarette. She inhaled deeply and held out the joint to Werner.

"Not while I'm driving," he declined.

Then I was offered a hit.

"I'll pass," I said.

"Boring lawyer!" Amanda said. "I'll smoke all of it then."

She took another hit and I had to push my thighs hard together to keep down my erection. She had a sexy way of smoking that joint.

"Are you a lawyer?" Werner asked.

"Almost."

"Then you must know that it's illegal to cross the border without a passport."

"Yes. But maybe there are places where you can cross unnoticed?"

"Absolutely. Do you know where they are?"

"I have no idea. Do you?"

"Oh yeah. I can show you if you like."

"You will? Thank you!" Amanda cried and hugged Werner and kissed his bearded cheek.

"That was nice," he commented. "For a kiss like that I'd take you anywhere. But first I have to go to my tattoo shop in Flensburg."

Amanda took some intense hits from her joint and emptied her beer bottle.

"This stuff makes me so thirsty. Can I have another beer?"

"Sure! Help yourself!" Werner said.

Amanda put down the empty bottle, picked a full one from the cooler and opened the swing top with another loud plopp.

"You like our local Flensburger beer?" Werner asked.

"Yeah. It's real nice. And this label is so cool," she philosophized.

She had forgotten to cover herself under the blanket that I, on my part, needed to hide my erection.

"I'm glad you like it. It's like a version of the coat of arms of the City of Flensburg with the lions, the tower and the water. The brewery just added the ship."

"It's so awesome," Amanda raved on.

"Amanda, it's a beer label!" I interjected.

"Can't you see it, you boring lawyer? It's amazing!"

"You know what, Amanda?" Werner said. "If you can manage to find a tattoo-free spot of say seven by six centimetres somewhere on your body, I will tattoo that label on you for free. I have a template for the tattoo at my studio."

"Will you do that?" Amanda said and spilled Flensburger beer on Werner as she hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"Careful now, I'm driving!" he chuckled.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Are you sure you want that, Amanda? I mean a beer label! Really!"

"Don't be such a boring lawyer, you party pooper!"

"And when you wake up with a beer commercial tattooed on you and you're not stoned anymore?"

"This is not a beer commercial. This is art. It is my heart's desire to have this piece of art tattooed somewhere." Amanda emptied her beer and started inspecting her naked body for a free spot for the tattoo.