There were sand dunes that seemed to go on forever, vanishing in the distance, and lupins growing tall. The cruising foot traffic made paths through the dunes and tunnels through the undergrowth. I was younger then, confident wandering alone and naked. I’d appear from this undergrowth, usually surprising a nude sun-bather. Occasionally I’d be asked to rub sunscreen on their back, or we’d chat …
Wandering naked was liberating, a thrill being seen by strangers and it was sexual for me, but my chest would still pound with fear of being spotted by family, friends or a teacher. I’d relax after a swim in the ocean, and laying down in a sheltered sand dune. Gentle sun drenched breeze passing over my naked body. Maybe this was a kind of a ritual, I would always be aroused by the salt re-crystallising on my skin.
I’d keep an eye on who was around, tricky in the dunes as people appeared from nowhere, and were down and up again like meerkats. There was a guy I’d met a few times, his cock was long and fat and he liked letting me suck on it. He was a stoner hippy with long hair, tall, he’d get me high too.
This is a true story, but I need to leave a few things out. Did anyone else have easy access to places they weren’t meant to be?