Nude Enough

"Hi, want to play?" said a tall guy to us, smiling and not obviously ogling, holding the ball between his arm and his side.

"Sure," said Judy, beaming.

"Tell you what," said the guy, "One girl with two guys, two girls with one guy, and the two-girl side starts with ten points."

Exaaaactly what we expected.

Judy got kittenish. "I think all of us would rather watch all of you. Why not boys against girls?"

The guy shrugged. "Okay, just for fun then." He looked back at his buds, one of whom smirked, probably liking the idea of watching all of us. The other guy, short and with a full beard, nodded. Tall guy asked Judy, "Would you like to serve?"

"Go ahead, you've got the ball. First to ten points wins?"

"Sure," he chuckled. Looking back, he flipped the ball to the bearded guy and said, "Do it, Kyle."

The bearded guy nodded again, and stepped back behind the rope resting on the sand. The other two stood casually, and either didn't notice that Carla and Judy eased up to the net while I moved to the backline between them, or didn't care.

And in that moment my brain babbled, These guys are looking at MY BOOBS AND CROTCH, and OMG their junk is right out there and they're okay with that, and they're young and kinda hot and I'm showing them everything, this is insane—

Then the bearded guy tossed up the ball and slapped it towards us. And I became a volleyball player.

The ball was slow, on a high arc. I got to its path easily, with enough time to see Carla turn and face me. I two-wristed the ball upward in her direction. Judy turned sideways to face Carla, who soft-handed the ball into a parabola to the side. Judy jumped, wristed the ball, and drove it to splash sand in front of the feet of the tall guy, who basically hadn't moved.

The three of them continued not moving. I think they all blinked.

Judy smirked and said, "Now it's our serve."

The tall guy smirked, picked up the ball, and tossed it over the net.

Here's a weak spot in our game: None of us is an ace server, not even Judy. So, since we have to accept that all we can do is get the ball over the net, I serve, because I'm on the back line anyway.

I took a few steps behind the rope, held up the ball, trotted up in the direction of one corner of the net, and slapped the ball towards the other corner. Two guys had leaned where I was heading. Only the bearded guy had a chance, and his lurching swing sent the ball under the net.

Carla picked up the ball, said "I guess we keep serving," and tossed it back to me.

So there was a tall guy, a short guy (with the beard), and one in between (with tattoos, some in places he could only show off today). Tall and short looked amused, the guy with tats not so much.

As I said, we're not that good, and after we got the next point we misfired on a return and had to volley, and whichever of us could get to the ball sent it back. I couldn't keep it in bounds, so our lead slipped to 3-1.

By this time, most of their group drifted from the keg to the sidelines. Tats guy grinned, but the bearded server, Kyle, looked to be taking us seriously, and sent a harder serve our way. It headed for a back corner. Carla ducked to give me a clear line. I went horizontal and got the dig less than a foot off the sand. I couldn't get it high, and Carla had to crouch a bit to get fully under it. Tall and Tats scurried to where they might block Judy's spike. Sensing that, Carla flipped the ball back over her head and the net, to land on open sand.

I had skidded prone onto the boundary rope, and was fist-pumping and cheering Carla's move. I didn't notice right away that the bearded guy was halfway under the net, looking at me.

"Are you okay?" he asked urgently.

"Um...yeah, why?" I returned, getting my legs under me.

He looked blank, then seemed to get his bearings. "You play all the time, right?"

"Uh huh," I said, smiling. "I land like that a lot." Then I had to laugh. "But then, I'm wearing something."

He laughed, straightening up. "Just making sure."

"Kyle, right?" I said. I held out a hand. "I'm Cyndi."

He took the hand and shook. "It's very humiliating to meet you, Cyndi."

The spectators laughed. I beamed, and not just from what he said. I noticed his lean, cut build, especially the abs. His shortness (maybe 5' 7") might lead him to believe that I was in his league. The women in his group seemed to be near his height, or taller.

Now, I don't like how height factors in to the attention men pay to me, and I to them, but I'm accustomed to it. Tall men can impress me, but don't especially attract me. I seem to get along best with guys in my part of the atmosphere, and I try to look past their defensiveness, excessive gratitude, and all the rest of it. Right then, I was enjoying the way Kyle kept eye contact, and didn't glance at the sand stuck to my sweaty skin.

The tall guy, maybe trying to get alpha attention, said, "Five points, let's change sides."

We crossed over, with Judy saying, "Will that put the sun in our eyes? Ahhh, no."

I couldn't do this completely out of sight, but in the transition I got some sand out of Certain Places. It helped a little that Carla drew attention by shaking out her hair and adjusting the band that held her glasses stems in place.

When we were up 6-1, the men got a point on a volley we couldn't handle cleanly. Tats appeared to have worked up a macho lather. He insisted on serving. He leaped high and slammed the ball. We leaned away as its near-horizontal trajectory took it about four feet out of bounds. The spectators hooted at him mercilessly. Tats started to yell at them, and Tall and Kyle had to calm him down.

Carla murmured to us, "Maybe we ease up on them?"

Judy shook her head. "It'd be suspicious. And they'd look even worse."

I served, and Kyle got to a good spot and returned it. We did a quick Cyndi-to-Carla-to-Judy, and while it wasn't a fearsome spike, Kyle and Tats collided trying to get to it. As the ball rolled away, I couldn't resist leaning under the net and saying to Kyle, "Are you okay?"

Kyle got to his feet quickly, laughing and nodding, while Tats pounded a fist on the sand. With a quick look at Tall, Kyle declared, "We concede!" Tats lurched to his feet, but as he did a woman stepped to his side and handed him a red cup. I think Tall had made eye contact with her before I served, but I wasn't sure. Anyway, it appeared that further ill will had been averted.

Tall and Kyle crossed the net to high-five us. It was only then I noticed how hyped and hard-breathing Judy and Carla were. And I was.

Judy, seeing a super-hot brunette approach Tall, yelled, "Winners to the water!" and took off. Carla and I dashed after.

In water up to my neck and Judy's nipples, we hugged and cheered and scrubbed off. With Carla doing more of that than the rest of us. Especially the hugging. Even with water splashing against her darkened glasses, she looked ecstatic.

Then she kissed us.

Since our coffee talk, I had been wondering about this, and how to respond to it.

Judy seemed to want out of the group hug, but I held us together and said to Carla, "We definitely don't hate you."

Still smiling, Carla said, "But this isn't who you are, I know that. Thanks for letting me be who I am."

"Yes, you be you," said Judy, clearly way off guard.

"You can talk to us about anything," I said, expecting Carla would have a long road ahead.

"Yeah," said Judy, nodding quickly as she got loose. "Talk."

We returned to our towels and bags and hats, now in somewhat more shade. Judy and Carla settled in. It looked like they were now content to be nude in repose on a beautiful summer day. Judy had messed with some men, and Carla had kissed two women. As far as adventure was concerned, they seemed to be done.

And I...wasn't.

Thanks to the beard, it was always easy for me to find Kyle, even at a distance. I stayed with my friends, sometimes reading a paperback, but once in a while...okay, pretty often...I looked Kyle's way. If he seemed to look my way, I smiled. I wasn't sure that was noticeable under my hat, so I started parting my lips on the smiles, and showing teeth.

Once, he smiled back. And waved.

I waved too.

He returned his attention to what his friends were doing.

I returned my attention to the paperback, no longer smiling.

A few minutes later, though, he trotted over and addressed all of us. "Hi. Just to show there's no hard feelings, would you care to join us? We've got the grill going."

Carla looked ready to stand, but Judy put a hand on her arm while answering, "Oh, not me thanks, I've got plenty." Then quickly she sent one look at Carla and a different look at me.

Carla glanced at me before looking at Kyle and saying. "Yeah me too, but thanks."

I suppressed a grin, helped by my hat. "I'd be glad to," I said, standing.

After a few steps side by side, he asked, "So, do you three hang out all the time?"

"No, we only know each other from the gym," I said, smiling pleasantly, while thinking, Thanks, Carla, he saw us in the water getting all Sapphic. I tried to recover with, "So these are all friends of yours?"

"We hang out at a bar. Got this event together on a dare."

"Looks like you're having a good time."

"Until you three showed up," he said with a grin. Then, in a rush, "Look I'll just say this, they're only friends. I'm not involved with anyone right now. If, uh, that's what you were, uh..."

I nodded, looking away. "I was." Then, facing him: "I never want to barge in to anything, or waste anyone's time."

"So, are you—"

"Carla got really excited," I said. "We're friends, only. And no, I'm not seeing anyone right now. Well, I'm 'seeing' you, and a whole lot of you, um..." I was in too deep, and we both looked straight ahead.

Kyle introduced me to people whose names I wouldn't remember, and as a group we talked about what it was like being nude in public. I welcomed a bratwurst with brown mustard on a hard roll, but declined beer.

And then Kyle and I were sitting next to each other on a couple of towels, with his friends appearing to make a point of giving us space.

We munched and made small talk, with some get-acquainted stuff about work, and an exchange of last names. I became aware that I was sitting next to a naked man, while putting a tube of meat in my mouth. Maybe I was getting used to this, because that didn't seem disturbing or hilarious.

His beard wasn't long, but it was thick. I didn't necessarily find it attractive, but it kept drawing my eye. It was a medium brown like his scalp hair, so it showed a lot of texture in the sunlight, with color variations, and moved a little in the breeze. It wasn't a neglect beard. His neck was shaved, and his lips were visible.

His eye-corners tended to crinkle when he smiled. I resisted liking that. Guys shouldn't be that kind of cute, bad enough that I was.

He said, "I don't know, there's just something about you. In the game, and after, your happiness is so...big. I wished I could be a part of your happiness."

That got to me. My heart thumped. But instead of responding in the same spirit, I succumbed to my usual reflex of dodging praise. "Uh, thanks," I said quietly.

"I could just move on, if you want," he said, now subdued. "It's my first time doing this nude thing, and I don't want to crowd you."

I looked away, as I had done maybe twenty times by now. Cripes, the sheen of sweat on his shoulder was enough to addle my brain. Finding that my eyes now trained on my own crotch didn't make things any better. I got impatient with myself, and him. I had already thrown my body around in pursuit of a volleyball, legs flying, breasts jiggling. All while he'd watched.

And I liked the idea of bringing him into my happiness.

I said, "Why don't we just stare at our bodies, and get it over with? We give each other permission to look at what we're showing freely to hundreds of strangers." I stood up, and indicated for him to do the same. "Then maybe we can act like normal people to each other. And if eyes still aim at non-public parts, well, we've given each other permission."

He got to his feet, looking self-conscious. Then he explained why. "I hope I don't, uh, react to this."

"It's okay," I said, too quickly, and maybe not truthfully. "But if you'd be embarrassed, then forget it, we don't have to do this."

He stood straight, looked me in the eyes, and took a slow deep breath. "No, go ahead. As long as you won't be offended or, uh, feel threatened."

Which recalled to me my harsh statement in the car. Kyle, it seemed, wasn't assuming that I gave him a free pass because I was naked.

I took off my hat and stood just as straight as he did, and set my feet apart a little. From seeing myself in the mirror in this pose, I knew that I showed labia, behind sparse hairs. There was no demure front-leg-across. No hiding. I worked very hard to keep calm as I said, "If nature takes its course, I'll decide that you're a healthy young male."

He chuckled. Then he put his hands behind his back, and also set his feet apart a little. His cock was relaxed, and stayed that way. It seemed...ordinary, neither huge nor tiny. Behind it, his sac seemed proportionate, healthy...ordinary.

I saw that he was circumcised. I had already seen that. Several times. Shame on me.

Kyle continued to breathe slow and deep, and (not helping at all) I now wanted to see him get erect. First just for the visual, and then (worse!) to see if the sight of my nude body could make that happen. Where were my high-minded concerns?

I made myself look at his face, and saw that he was scanning my body. The damn beard prevented me from getting a clear idea of what was going on in his head. So I went back to doing the same to him, getting now to those nice abs. Never really cared about a man's abs before. Maybe I didn't now, either, but they were his, and he'd clearly gone to some effort to get them to look like that.

I imagined his abs being just above my pelvis. And forced myself to stay still.

"Would you please turn around?" He said, surprising me. He was smiling, but I didn't detect ridicule.

I gave him a crooked smile and said, "If you like." As I stepped to rotate 180 degrees, I thought, Is he an ass man? Will my sorry biking butt be a deal-breaker? At first I held the same pose as before. Then I put my hands on my hips and looked over my shoulder at him. I resisted the urge to pop a hip to one side.

"Thank you," he said, smiling more, I think because I was being playful and, maybe, too damn cute for my own good.

"Now you," I told him, facing front and gesturing rotation with an index finger.

He presented those sculpted buttocks, first in a plain pose, then looking over his shoulder and folding his arms, a much more masculine posture than what I'd shown him.

"Thank you," I said. I took a step towards him. Then, suddenly worried that I couldn't trust my hands, I said, "I'd like to go in for a swim," and angled my head with what I hoped was an inviting smile. I was already trotting towards the water when I heard him say "Me too." And I got a tiny thrill from taking the initiative. (And being chased?)

Once in enough depth, I did some fast crawl strokes, enjoying being enclosed by the water. I realized that while we surveyed our skins, I wasn't being touched, and I felt the lack. I swam for clear water, naked people always visible somewhere. I couldn't even see Kyle at that moment, but I knew he was following, probably gaining because of longer arms, and in a wild flash I wanted him to catch me and hold me and take me right there. I thought, So nudists are calm and platonic, is that the claim?. Not Judy last year. Not Carla after the game. Not me. I'm nude and men are nude and I'm in a froth. So much for getting used to this. If I can't calm down, I should never do Nude Day again.

Instead of catching me, Kyle swam past on my left, then turned to stand and block my way. He held out his arms, grinning. I laughed, stopping, and grabbed his hands.

I was flat-footed on smooth sand, head and shoulders above the water. He was immersed to about the middle of his chest. There was nobody very close to us. I trembled, but the water wasn't cold.

I let go his hands and drifted closer, a few inches away from him. "I think you're a nice guy." I said, low-toned.

"I try to be," he said firmly, not ingratiating.

I swept stringy hair off my forehead. "Do you think I'm an awful person?"

He frowned. "Definitely not."

"You may want to revise your opinion in a moment," I said, and now had to take a slow deep breath. My crotch was warming. "You did fine, before, not reacting physically while you looked at me." Another breath. His look wasn't completely innocent, but not lecherous either. "But I'd like to know if, when you look at me, you can react that way."

His lips compressed, which had the effect of merging the mustache with the beard. "I think you're nice, and I hope you're honest," he said. "A few times, when, um, things went way beyond flirting, it wasn't honest."

I cussed at myself for screwing this up, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Oh no. I'm sorry, Kyle. I really like you, and I thought maybe, in the water, you wouldn't be embarrassed, or worried about what people would think."

He put a hand on my hand. "I have to tell you that it was all I could do to stay calm, before. I had to imagine myself skiing, in freezing cold."

That made me smile. "Maybe I should be satisfied with that."

"Do you really want to see me...that way?"

"Yes, but only if you—"

"I do, Cyndi," he said clearly.

My heart resumed thumping. Several red flags tried to get my attention. They didn't stop me from taking his hand in mine, and moving it below the water line. "If it helps," I said, in what couldn't get above a whisper, "I'd like to encourage you."

I pressed his hand on my breast.

He exhaled sharply. Then he took the invitation and fondled me, a fingertip caressing the nipple, which at that moment was definitely not an innie.

A yelp tried to escape me, but I squeezed shut my mouth and eyes, and breathed slowly despite shuddering. I thought, Is this honest enough for you, Beard Boy?

I opened my eyes, and glanced down. I saw nothing but choppy water against his chest hair. "I can't see very well," I said, almost laughing. "May I investigate another way?"

"Yes," he whispered, "but please be careful."

I let a hand slide down his abs, fingers then tracing the flatness across his pelvis, finding hair, and then—

"Hhhuuuuh!" he said, as I curled my hand around a firm, ovoid cylinder that I knew I would like just fine.

And I woke up to the fact that I wanted, needed, release! The red flags sneered that they had told me so.

Worse, I was at risk of giving blue balls to a near-total stranger.

But I wanted nothing more than to barge ahead! With—something.

"Kyle," I gasped, "I want you to be a big part of my happiness! Is it okay if I jerk you off?"

"Wh-whaaaat?" Kyle squinted at me, but quickly recovered. "Y-yeah! If you like, uh, yeah. And should I—"

"Finger fuck me and keep squeezing that boob," I said, still gasping. "And kiss me, so it looks like that's all we're doing." I lifted the only one of our arms that wouldn't be busy below the water line, and put it around his shoulder. With the other hand I started yanking him, fast, the way I'd talked, somehow thinking that if I stayed at that speed everything would be fine and not as insane as I was afraid it was. Especially saying 'finger fuck me' in public to a man I'd just met.

He might have been flummoxed, but the hand he put on my crotch was steady, with two fingers smoothly sliding behind the labia and his thumb stroking the clit against its hood. That, and a firm squeeze of my breast, and me standing up, and being nude, and in water, combined for a sensation like none I'd ever had, nerves flaring wildly. A huge rush twitched much of my body and I had to replant my feet to keep a good hold on his prick. Could he even enjoy this, surrounded by water?