Nude Beach | Exhibitionist | Nudity | My Sex Life Diary
Nude Outdoors in the Rain. I Love It! And a Beach Lifeguard Got to Enjoy the View Today.
I’m addicted to rain caressing my nude body & I thought the beach was empty, but there was still a lifeguard [My Sex Life]
I write erotica novels & short stories. I also publish sex confessions as a spermivore, spermaholic, and teen slut. Yes, teen slut! And I’m proud of it! Sex is good. And girls who love sex shouldn’t have to hide and pretend to be “pure.” Sex is pure! And naked skin is natural.
As many of you know, I love being seen in the nude. They call that being an exhibitionist, although I don’t like that term because it often makes people think of men flashing kids from under a trench coat in a park—which I do not support at all, of course. So I simply say that I like men to see my naked tits and pussy!
Yet, being nude goes beyond exhibitionism for me. Even when there is nobody around, I just feel good being nude outdoors. I don’t know why. I should do some research on that, I guess — or go talk to a shrink!
In any case, since early this morning, I have been working my naked butt off to produce My Sex Life Diary report about last weekend, which turned out to be a remarkable sexual experience. As I was rampaging on my MacBook keyboard, it started to rain — pouring rain, more precisely, which often lasts only a mere few minutes in tropical weather.
I simply couldn’t resist running outside… In the nude.
What I like even more than being nude outside is feeling rain caressing my body, with my wet hair sticking on my shoulders, back, and tits, and with a river coming down between my boobs, over my belly button, and onto my pussy.
Have you ever tried it? Rain on my body makes me feel alive, and yet, I hadn’t done it in a while. In fact, I had refrained from being nude around my condo since I moved here over two years ago. I didn’t want to be kicked out! An old man, a friend of my daddy, let me use it for free. Well… Free, although he gets to use my body when he comes to visit. But that is a different story.
I often had the urge to open the door and step outside when the sky cries. The door of my condo gives directly onto the beach! Yes, I live in paradise. I’m a spoiled brat! And today, the urge was too big for me to continue resisting the call of nature.
I slowly walked across a totally empty beach. Whenever the rain moves in, the old folks move out. I’ve never seen kids on this beach. It’s all retirees.
I dipped my toes into the ocean, then kneeled down and went on my belly. Rain was falling on my back while gentle waves were splashing the front part of my torso. What a feeling!
On all fours, I walked away from the waves and onto the beach, where I fell victim to another one of my guilty pleasures: sand caressing my skin.
I often go to the beach without a towel. What is wrong with sand? Before leaving the beach, I simply clean the sand off by swimming in the ocean. Why do I need a towel for? I guess I like nothing that looks or feels like clothing! I would gladly spend the rest of my life wearing only jewelry, flip-flops, and high heels.
But back to the sand… People spend good money in spas to get their bodies covered in sand. Or maybe it’s mud. Whatever! I like how the sand feels on my skin. It’s partly a scrub-like caress, but it also comes with a bit of pain because of the pieces that are more rock than sand. To me, it’s like prosciutto and melon — a perfect mix!
So earlier this afternoon, I was lying flat on the beach with sand and rock, providing a mix of pleasure and pain on my tits, belly, and thighs while rain massaged my back. I could have stayed there forever.
I glanced at the buildings lining the beach, wondering if somebody was watching me. If they did, they probably saw little. It was really dark. Buckets of rain were falling.
Then my eyes stopped on the lifeguard station.
Shit!
Everybody had run out of the beach except him!
This is the United States of America, where skin is evil! Besides going to nude beaches in South Florida, I have fun exhibiting my tits and pussy here and there, but I try to do it when the chances of being caught are minimal. Jail sex is not part of my fantasies!
I had seen that lifeguard before. He probably knew I lived in the building right in front of me.
My first instinct was to run away, but then I wondered what would be the point of that. He had already seen my naked body, from head to toe, and he wasn’t on his radio. That was a good sign, I thought. He wasn’t calling anybody, and at the same time, he never stopped looking at me from inside his lifeguard's tower.
Then my heart skipped a beat when he raised the whistle to his lips and used it. What was the meaning of that? He pointed at the flag indicating the beach was closed. I guess he was just concerned about my safety! He was a gentleman!
I got up, exposing full frontal nudity to him, although he was probably a bit far to see clearly.
If I had been a good girl, I would have just walked back across the beach and into my condo, but… Wait! Would a good girl be nude on the beach in the rain?
Fueled by the adrenaline pumping through my body, I trotted to his tower, keeping my arms out of the way of my boobs bouncing up and down.
“I’m so sorry!” I said once I got to his lifeguard station. “I didn’t think you or anybody would be out here!”
“That doesn’t make it safe,” he replied.
Damn! I hate it when people confuse me with facts!
“Right. Right! Sorry!”
“And…” he said, with his eyes traveling up and down my naked body. He stopped for a few seconds on my tits, like men always do. They are still young and perky; thank you, sir! With no tan lines!
It’s with his eyes firmly locked onto my bald pussy that he continued: “It’s not a nude beach!”
That sent shivers over my exposed skin. Being nude is one thing. Being acknowledged as nude is the cherry on the sundae. Hearing it makes it more real.
“But… I’m not nude!” I replied, giggling and playing with the sand around my belly button. The exhibitionist part of my brain had taken over.
He rolled his eyes and showed me the way to my building with his hand. He knew where I lived! I turned, ready to leave.
“Shit!” I exclaimed.
The rain had stopped, and people were coming out of their condos. There were already a few sets of toes in the sand.
“I can hide you in here until nighttime,” he said, smirking.
That thought got me excited, but before I could find something witty (or submissive) to say, he handed me a t-shirt. His spare t-shirt, I guessed. I put it on. It covered me plenty, as if I was wearing a sundress. I got on my tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek before leaving and walking back to my condo.
I walked slowly—very, very slowly—while wiggling my ass the best a girl can when being barefoot in the sand. I knew he was looking.
I am now back at my kitchen table to complete the report on the sexual adventures I had last weekend (Stay tuned! I should have that report posted this evening), except I am no longer in the nude, which is the dress code inside my condo. I’m typing while wearing the t-shirt of the lifeguard sitting in a tower right in front of my condo. And I’m still full of sand. I didn’t want to remove the T-shirt and wash it. Damn! I’m excited!
I want to go back to the lifeguard station… I wonder at what time his shift is over. I could bring his T-shirt back. What should I wear then?
Here’s another time I enjoyed the rain on my body and being naked outdoors, but on that day, it was in front of an Uber driver:
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