The Julie Journals: Ch. 03a The Beach Train

I was chatting with someone online recently and we got talking about sex on the beach and how the sand goes everywhere. At the same time, I read a story by my friend @Nikkie Janes about a gang bang, also known in certain circles as 'pulling a train'. This sparked off a long-forgotten memory of an incident that happened over 25 years ago which I have never put into the Journals. It was not long after I split with Mary and went a little wild (to say the least) but before I met Tony who was my first husband. I would have been about 23 at the time and for a few years fucked anything (and everything) that moved whether it was male or female and often with more than one partner.

I have decided to write this in the first person rather than using the previous methodology employed with the Julie Journals of reading an old diary. As to the truth of this story, I have one embarrassing admission to make, I have no idea how many guys there actually were so have guessed at the number but may well have underestimated it. The other thing I should point out is as I am writing this from memory while I remember the main events the dialogue is a little hazy.

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I had spent the last six months splitting my time between army training and being ordered around, and fucking everything that moved. The recruits were all female in the camp, and although I was pretty certain some were lesbians or bisexual, nothing more happened than some exhibitions in the shower. Same-sex relationships were frowned on but it wasn't uncommon to see another woman touching herself in a way that went beyond personal hygiene. I also knew that some of the women would go out together for the evening but were never seen in any of the "regular" bars.

Having just come out of a two-year lesbian relationship I was making up for lost time with men. I wanted cock, and as much as I could get, so I went to the nearby pubs and clubs where the local lads were more than happy to help me scratch an itch. Mary, my ex-lover twice my age, still pestered me from time to time, showering me with gifts and cash to try to lure me back. That part of my life was behind me, but what it did mean was that I was quite financially sound.

Having finished basic training, I was time-filling waiting to be accepted for my first application for posting. As there were countless aptitude tests, interviews and background checks, and as I had a lot of leave stacked up, I decided to get away. I walked into the travel agent and sat down opposite an attractive young woman who I would have guessed was about my age.

"I want to go somewhere exotic where I can escape from everything, in particular men telling me what I have to do and looking down on me because I am female."

I stared into her eyes and mentally started undressing her as I debated whether to hit on her or just book a holiday. Although I was 99% heterosexual those days you don't spend two years licking pussy and not still hanker after the taste now and then. The fact that her name badge showed Mrs. Smith was a signal that she was unlikely to be interested, but you never know your luck, and as Mary always used to say, "Straight pussy tastes sweetest."

"When do you want to go?" She said looking at me with a look that told me I had no chance, but hey a girl can hope so I kept going.

"As soon as possible," I replied and then added, "and it will be on my own unless I can find a willing partner..." I left the words hanging to see if she would bite.

"Have you ever been to the Maldives?" she said, "me and my husband went there on our honeymoon last year and we loved it. Your very own desert island, no news, no shoes, everything included." The way she stressed 'we' and 'husband' told me that she knew my intentions and was pointing out very firmly that she wasn't interested.

I guess this was like a red rag to a bull to me, and the more she rejected my advances, the more dyke I became. It was fun seeing her blush, especially in response to my line, "...you can develop a taste for anything after enough times." After a little more banter, mainly on my part, I paid rather a lot of money and found myself on an 11-hour flight to what I can only describe as a massive runway on an island. I had slept a lot of the way but was wide awake when the plane touched down in Male, an atoll in the Maldives. I would have sworn blind the plane was going to land in the ocean as it made its final approach. From there it was a short 20-minute seaplane ride to be dumped on a raft with my one suitcase before a little boat came and collected me.

Kuramathi island was one of the larger islands and was shaped like a slice of pizza. with the widest part being around 350 metres across from where we landed and the rooms, restaurant and bar were located. Then it stretched a mile in a gentle curve to its narrowest point where it was just a mere 20 metres wide. Reception suggested that I stick to the south side of the island as there was extensive building work underway on the north side, not that any noise would bother me, I was assured.

After a week or so I was going out of my mind. Don't get me wrong, the snorkelling was great, the weather fantastic, the staff wonderful but it was like being marooned on your own. Everything on the island was complementary from the drink to even the cigarettes that I smoked back then. On the downside there was no nightlife and the entertainment consisted of listening to the same couple of CDs. Nearly all the couples were newlyweds and were much more interested in each other than some young Geordie lass who was desperate for company and the chance to talk to another human being.

The bar staff were all very smiling and polite, but their English was limited so even if you could trap one into a conversation it was a very short, one-sided discussion. This meant that I would sit on the hammock on my veranda staring out to sea plotting the ways I would find and torture the travel agent who had sold me this holiday of hell in paradise. Every day I would snorkel, eat a beautiful lunch, snorkel some more, and then after a sumptuous dinner stare at an exquisite sunset...on my own.

I was annoyed with myself that I hadn't packed a vibrator or dildo for fear of them being discovered by customs. So I had to make do with using my fingers which were developing blisters as time wore on. I even resorted to using the bananas they provided in the fruit basket, but that ended in a frustrating mess.

After about a week into the 10 days I was booked for, I was trying to work out if it was possible to build a raft and escape. Then while I was snorkeling in the morning on the North side of the island I came across a group of workmen who were in the process of building huts on stilts connected by a wooden jetty. Deciding to get a closer look I swam close to the beach and then walked up the beach with my mask and snorkel in my hand.

As I strolled past them, I was surprised not to get the wolf whistles and shouts that would have occurred if I had gone past a British building site clad as I was. I was wearing a single-piece costume in pure white that contrasted against my bronzed skin. It was held together by a metal clasp at my cleavage that appeared to contain my ample breasts by willpower and luck, as much as anything else. The back plunged low to almost the crack of my cheeks, which were fully exposed by the high cut over my hips.

I have to say that unlike British workmen these guys were much smaller and nimbler, clad only in loin clothes and barefooted they would move around the bamboo scaffolding with great agility. I knew they had noticed me but seemed to be reluctant to approach, I found out later that in theory interaction with the guests was frowned on. Their chattering had stopped and I could feel their eyes removing what little clothing I had on.

After I had passed them I looked at the path that led back to the developed part of the island and could see the sharp stones would cut my feet. I pondered for a moment trying to decide if I could balance along the thin strip of grass or retreat back to the sea and swim around. Suddenly one of the small brown men appeared and chattered in his sing-song language to which I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders. He slipped his flip-flops from his feet and pointed to my feet, before dancing from foot to foot making noises of pain. Realising what he meant, I slipped my feet into them and bowed in thanks. He must have got a good eyeful of my boobs as he quickly adjusted his loin cloth before bowing back and moving away. As I walked back the sharp stones gave way to soft sands as my mind whirred recalling the sweet smell I had detected coming from him. The scent that had assailed my nostrils was the smell of pot and I hadn't taken any drugs for over three years, not even a drag on a spliff, but right now I needed something to relieve the dullness.

After lunch, I got changed out of my swimsuit and into my sunbathing outfit, if they had enjoyed my one-piece then this would blow their minds. The bottom consisted of a micro-G-string in flesh colour, which meant that from a distance it looked like I was naked. On my top I had an over-baggy vest with elongated armholes and as I didn't wear a bikini top it meant if I lifted my arms my breasts were exposed in profile. It was also made of a material that became see-through if even a moderate amount of water touched it. The final touch was the rather crude message across the front that said, "Yes I swallow'.

My sandals were a work of art that I was really proud of. I had bought them from a local market back home and they were flat with a small loop of leather about an inch wide into which I put my big toe. Then there was a series of thin straps that crisscrossed to fasten in an ankle bracelet. I had read somewhere that harem slaves wore a bell on their ankles so I attached a tiny cat bell to the right ankle. On the left toe I had used a soldering iron to burn in the letters 'S' and 'L' and on the right toe loop I burnt in the letters 'U' and 'T'. When I put my feet together if I looked down I could read SLUT which made me giggle a lot.

I picked up a towel, sunscreen and the flip-flops the workman had lent me before setting off to the north of the island. I was determined about two things, one I was going to get high, the other I was going to get laid.

When I arrived at the construction area I waved the borrowed shoes and one of them leapt nimbly from the scaffolding and ran over to me. I could see his eyes bulge when he took in what I was wearing and little beads of sweat appeared on his brow. After we had exchanged thank you's, making sure he got a good look at my breasts, he ran back to his workmates chattering excitedly.

Now they knew what was on offer I needed to stop and let things develop. I unrolled my towel and settled down to do a spot of sunbathing and decided to give them a bit of a show. First I pulled the vest over my head and made a great display of stretching and bending before applying the sunscreen to my breasts. Then removing the covering from my pussy I lay there naked, my feet pointing towards them about 50 feet away. I knew that they would be able to see me, so I parted my legs and stroked my pussy with one hand as I played with my nipples with the other.

I lay back and could hear the level of their chattering increase as they were obviously calling to each other to come and witness my slutty show. The thought of them watching me increased my sexual excitement and I started to get more aroused pushing two fingers in and out of my wetness. Then it went quiet and the next thing I knew I was surrounded by a group of small dark men. They chattered in whatever language they spoke until one uttered a few words in broken English.

"You sexy lady," he said waving his hand, "We all like you."

I didn't say anything but just locked eyes with him as I went over the top and climaxed as they all watched me. I pulled out my fingers and licked them like they were a lollipop before pantomiming the action of smoking a cigarette. Eventually, they understood what I wanted, and one produced a rolled spliff that he lit, eager to progress matters. He took a long drag on it before he passed it over to me which I took and gratefully inhaled deeply. I hadn't taken any form of drugs for so long and the feeling was wonderful. Smoking weed always makes me horny which coupled with the aroused state I was already in, I needed sex badly and right now.

I knew that it was pointless trying to have a conversation so I rolled over onto all fours, sticking my naked ass in the air in invitation hoping that they would get the message. Hands touching my pussy and ass told me that they understood and as a finger pushed in, I heard them chattering. I have no idea what they were saying but, in my head, they were deciding who was going to go first. This thought made me feel even sexier and taking another long drag I settled my head into the sand.

I heard a rustle of clothing and felt the first guy kneel behind me, his cock pressed against my pussy lips. He was the one that spoke English and said, "We all fuck you OK."

When I lived with the Hells Angels, gang bangs or pulling a train as it was called, were quite common for me. It was one of the things that I actually enjoyed and looked forward to.

I took another deep pull and giggled, "The more the merrier."

With that, he sank his cock into me and started to fuck me with fast sharp movements. It wasn't the biggest cock I had ever had, but it wasn't the smallest either. After more than a week of enforced celibacy, it was the most wonderful cock in the world. It didn't take long before he yelled something in his own language and unloaded into me.

Another took his place and drove home, his fucking slower and more prolonged. With my free hand, I reached under and rubbed my clit bringing myself to a climax just as he pumped his seed into me. The third guy felt a little larger and as he pumped with steady strokes I inhaled deeply relaxing into another orgasm, this time without the need of my fingers.

Things became a little hazy as the narcotic took hold and the cocks seemed to blur into one making it difficult to tell when my partner changed. At one point I faintly heard the bell on my ankle caused by one particularly energetic partner, and couldn't help giggling as I suddenly thought it would be great to be the workman's permanent sex slave. At another point, I felt a sharp jab of pain and knew that one had entered my ass, but having been a lover of anal for years I just braced myself to enjoy the sensations moaning words of encouragement.

I would have guessed that at least ten had fucked me, two of those in my ass but to be honest it could have been twice that number. I stayed in position until I had stopped being fucked for a while and even then waited just in case there was more.

I could feel the cum trickling out of both holes as I stood and slowly walked into the ocean to my waist. There I flexed my inner muscles to expel the multiple loads that had been pumped inside me. I laughed as I saw a few small fish nibble at the floating sperm and within a few minutes the water was swarming with a whole shoal devouring the cum as fast as they could.

Returning to the beach I donned my vest that became see-through from the water still on my body. I looked everywhere but couldn't find the G-string so in the end gave up and walked slowly back to my hut. Tomorrow I would be flying home which was a shame as I would have repeated the day, every day had I visited this end of the island earlier.

That night I sat in the bar alone, chatting to the barman ignoring the loving couples scattered around. My pussy and ass were throbbing nicely and I was thinking to myself that I should pull a train more often when the barman said, "Have you had a good last day Miss?" I nodded and smiled as I thought of the multiple cocks I had enjoyed.

"What did you do?" He asked. I thought for one brief moment about telling him in detail but instead, I just smiled as I replied, "I had fun feeding the fish."

edited by RF Fast