Gulf Coast Beach Fun - Pt-1

It was 1978 and I was a very average guy, twenty years old at the time. I was stationed at the NAS Pensacola, Florida. My “rating” (occupational specialty) was Storekeeper (warehouse worker), and my “rate” (pay grade) was a lowly E-3. It was just like any other job, but with all the military BS added on.

I did “inventory control” (mostly shipping/receiving and stocking) for the warehouse that supplied parts to the mechanics in the motor pool. I usually got only one day off a week… two per week was a luxury. Occasionally I could wrangle a weekday off, as my coworkers were always eager to trade off their working Saturdays. Personally, I valued the weekdays more.

The money was not all that great, but with all my basic needs taken care of, what pay I did get was pretty much all my own. I afforded myself a car so that I could quickly get away during my off time and see something else besides the base. The few dives that were just outside the gate targeted the stereotypical “Yahoo!” drunken Sailor, which was not me.

My favorite place to go was the beach, and Santa Rosa Island has some truly spectacular beaches. They call it “Sugar Sand,” which is a very appropriate name. Wide expanses of pristine beach composed of fine white sand, which went on literally for miles.

The water was usually an incredible aqua-marine blue/green blend (which is my favorite color), and the scenery (the clouds, dunes, etc., and the beach bunnies), could be absolutely breathtaking at times. The region is often referred to as the “Emerald Coast”, due to the incredible richness of the color of the water.

Back in the late seventies, there was a lot less development in the Pensacola area than there is now and fewer crowds. Even without the occasional weekday off, it was easy enough back then to find a reasonably private spot… at least in terms of not having people nearby… but because most of the Gulf-side beach is visible from the road, it was difficult to get total privacy most of the time. Between the road and Santa Rosa Sound, however, there are lots of expanses of dunes that could be very private, it just depended on who else was wandering around.

I chanced to meet Delilah on one of my rare week-day jaunts to the beach. And from the moment I laid eyes on her, I thought she was a goddess. It was a warm sunny day in mid-May, which meant the water was still a bit chilly, but the crowds were very minimal since schools were still in session, and the hordes of vacationing families had not yet descended onto the area. Another name for the region is “The Redneck Riviera,” due to its close proximity to rural Southern Georgia, Alabama, North Florida, etc. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Rednecks need love too.)

I knew of a spot on the Gulf-side beach on Santa Rosa Island that was a bit more out of sight of the road, which could provide the peace and solitude that I was seeking that day. (It is a spot that I now have many fond memories of.) Military life as it turned out was not really my style, and I was yearning for some rejuvenation time. I had left as early as I could that Wednesday, so I could take full advantage of the day, and I was quite confident that I would be able to secure this favorite spot of mine.

After the nearly hour-long drive, followed by about a ten or fifteen-minute walk, I was a bit disappointed as I made my way down the beach. While making my approach, I could see that someone was already in my spot. As I got closer I began to realize that it was a woman, who appeared to have a very lovely figure, and she seemed to be alone. Being the horny young man that I was, I decided to walk on by first to get a closer look, rather than stop sooner and set up my kit a respectable distance away before passing her.

It was a typical Spring-like day, with a fairly cool and stiff early morning breeze coming in off the Gulf. She had a large beach umbrella and was having a really hard time keeping it under control. If you’ve spent a lot of time on the beach, you know that a day-long visit can be next to torture without any shade, so it is a really good idea to bring your own. I gave a friendly wave as I passed by, walking along the water’s edge, which was a hundred feet or more from where she was set up. She awkwardly waved back as she continued to try and control her umbrella in the on-shore breeze.

As soon as I had passed by and shifted my gaze forward, a substantial gust of wind arrived, which was immediately followed by a soft shriek. I looked back and saw that part of her umbrella had blown out. I walked up to her and got a nice view of her backside as I did. “Nice legs and ass,” I thought to myself, as I viewed her bending over to deal with her umbrella. When I got closer I asked if she wanted any help. Slightly startled, she looked over her shoulder, and with a somewhat sheepish grin and ever so slight blush agreed that she could use a hand.

As I said, this woman was a Goddess. Even in the breeze, this day was already warm enough that a swimsuit was enough, and the bikini she had on provided ample view of her lovely figure. Her beautifully bronzed body was finely developed and stood about 5’9” tall, with curves in all the right places. Her perfect heart-shaped ass flowed nicely into a magnificent pair of legs, sturdy, and well-muscled. This was not one of those “Valley Girl Type” skinny beach chicks that you see flitting around at the popular spots.

Her fine sun-bleached flaxen hair cascaded just over her broad shoulders, highlighting a well-toned and muscular back. Not rippling mind you, that was not any part of her, but it was obvious that underneath that soft layer of skin and the exquisite feminine appeal was one amazing hard body. Her belly had just the right amount of roundness to it, which when she moved a certain way or would laugh, would reveal a hint of a six-pack going on there.

Her very full and firm C-cup breasts jutted proudly from that glorious body and were capped by what I already had the pleasure to witness were a pair of long, stiff nipples (which I’ve always been a sucker for), pressing firmly against the thin fabric of her bikini top. Her face was also quite lovely. More the “wholesome girl-next-door” look, as opposed to that of magazine cover model glamor.

I was speechless at the sight of her. I would find out later (much to my surprise) that she was fifteen years older than me. I’ve always had a thing for mature women. And as it would turn out, Delilah was going to really seal the deal on that fantasy of mine.

It is only fair to confess that I was no slouch in the looks and fitness department, but I was for sure a late bloomer, and back then was very shy and awkward around women, rarely dating in High School, and up to that point, not very experienced sexually. I was 6’3”, 175#, and very muscular. I was a bicycle riding nut (a hundred miles a day was common when I had the time), and I also swam six to nine miles a week. And it was at this time in my life that I was just beginning to take an avid interest in Yoga too.

I was plenty handsome enough, I just had limited confidence back then. (By the way, I’m almost the same size and shape now, just more experienced.) So I was pretty naive back then also. The only major shortcoming that I saw in myself was my obvious “Navy look,” complete with a base haircut and black government-issue glasses, which made me look pretty geeky.

Plus, Sailors had a bad rep in most Navy towns. I’d even heard stories of guys seeing signs in people’s yards saying “Dogs and Sailors Keep Off the Grass," not the kind of thing that gives you a warm, fuzzy, welcoming feeling. (Not that this reputation wasn’t deserved in some cases, but it was mostly a matter of the few spoiling it for the many.) So being the good Boy Scout that I am, I tended to be a bit more reserved around the civilian population, and try to set a better example.

Despite my usual shyness and awkwardness, however, I felt pretty confident at this moment as I set my kit down and began to give her broken umbrella a good inspection. I’ve always had an “Engineer's Brain” as my family would say, so I was well inclined mechanically. Part of the mechanism was hopelessly (for the time anyway) torn and bent. As I explained to her what the situation was, the disappointment that slowly began to shroud her face was unmistakable.

“Shit!” she exclaimed when I was done, her firm breasts jiggling delightfully as she stamped one foot in conjunction with the expletive. Followed by an almost mournful, “I was hoping to spend the day on the beach; it is going to suck not having any shade!”

I proceeded to tell her that I had the same plans and that my shade kit would have enough room for two if she cared to join me for the day. The kit I use is something I concocted myself using “Boy Scout Technology”, with a nylon tarp, a few adjustable tent poles, some line, and a bunch of twelve-inch Army Surplus aluminum tent stakes that held their place in the sand very well.

The end result wasn’t all that obvious when everything was packed up, as it is a very compact arrangement. I’d been noticing her occasional glance at my bundle (the tarp, not my shorts) with some curiosity while I inspected and discussed her broken umbrella. She paused briefly at my offer, gazing into my eyes with a look of deep thought, and then suddenly her face lit up as she enthusiastically accepted.

I suggested that we set the tarp up a bit farther back from the shoreline. There was a nice indented spot right at the point where the flatter beach transitioned into the rolling dunes. At this particular place on the beach, you could not be seen from the road. The slight alcove formed here on the edge of the dunes allowed for an easy view of the beach in both directions, while still providing some privacy from distant onlookers.

Of course, the breeze off the Gulf was still fully available, and with the added shade it had a delightful cooling effect. In those conditions, you can even get a nice tan in the shade, due to all the reflected light from the bright, white sand. Now, in all the time that I’d been eyeing Delilah so far, I had begun to suspect that perhaps she did a fair amount of tanning sans swimsuit, so I was hoping that the extra privacy might come in handy.

I should mention here why I usually went to such lengths for such a spot (the travel time and distance, for example, both for driving and walking, was relatively substantial). Even at this point in my life, I’d always been very fond of being naked outdoors. I’d skinny-dipped as a kid in the country whenever possible, and just before entering the Navy I’d had the opportunity to stay for a brief time with some Hippie Folks who were very liberal about wearing (or not wearing) clothing outdoors in the remote rural settings where they lived.

As an adolescent, I had even snuck into the backyard naked on a few Summer nights when my parents would leave me on my own. (The thought that someone might see me just added to the thrill.) I absolutely loved the feeling of being naked outdoors.

I was a “Naturist” long before I was aware there was such a term. (FYI - “Naturist” is the current “PC” term for “Nudist”, though they are still somewhat interchangeable.) So, any chance I could get, I was apt to try and get some sun on my body without any clothing. While not at all legal, it was possible in some places on the P’cola Beaches (with some risk) to work on getting rid of tan lines.

The setup of my shade-tarp was a lot easier with help. I’d experimented with a number of configurations by this time, and had everything down to a science. It was a 10’x12’ nylon tarp, supported by four poles. There are two taller poles in the middle, and two shorter poles on the leading edge. The trailing edge (that faced inland) took most of the full sun and was just a foot or more off the ground. The back corners are held by one line and stake.

The front corners, as well as the middle support points, all had two guy-lines on them, staked to the sand. I’d been through some fairly gusty weather with this rig, and even occasionally had to lay it down when the wind got really bad in storms. But Summer Squalls on the Gulf Coast (usually hitting mid-afternoon) tend to blow up fast, not last very long and clear off quickly.

Even if everything got soaked (and it would at times, what wasn’t packed in dry bags anyway), usually within an hour or so in the bright sunshine and fresh breeze, everything would be mostly dry again. The things I liked most about this rig were that it was fairly easy to set up by myself, offered lots of shade, and (most importantly) was relatively quiet in a breeze. I’d been by folks who had those cheap poly woven tarps, and even in very light wind, they are extraordinarily noisy!

It was truly a pleasure to have Delilah helping me. The way to set this rig up (like most tents) is to work from opposite sides. I would demonstrate what to do, and then she would follow my actions on the other side. This provided me with an excellent opportunity to watch her body working in motion. It is still to this day one of the most delightful memories that I have.

The setup called for some trial and error. So you might need to move a stake several times before you found the right spot for it. This wasn’t difficult, but it required a lot of bending over, squatting down, tugging on lines to adjust knots, etc. With a good thick-soled sandal, you could easily shove the tent stake into the sand while standing up.

There was a trick to it, however – you gotta hold your mouth right and if you didn’t do it just so, with no wiggle on the downstroke, you’d have to try again in a different spot. I found Delilah’s learning curve to be quite delightful and entertaining. Repeated attempts by her to drive the stakes provided ample opportunity for me to observe her strong feminine form in motion, with occasional glimpses of the elegant muscular physique that she possessed underneath her soft exterior.

Every time she drove a stake home (or attempted to), I got a superb display of her well-muscled legs in action, with the motion ending in a breathtaking jiggle of her breasts as her foot plunged the stake completely into the sand. The effort seemed to be stimulating to her as well, evidenced by her long, thick nipples as they continued to strain against the thin fabric of her top. Witnessing all this activity was causing me to have a waxing and waning hard-on. Not wanting to embarrass myself, I awkwardly tried to conceal the “discomfort” that was inside my loose-fitting swim trunks. If Delilah noticed this, she did not let on to it at all.

We finally got everything set. As we stood back to admire our handiwork, she complimented the result. I could not have been more proud. We arranged our beach chairs and soft-side coolers in the shade and proceeded to relax a bit after we got everything else squared away, including folding up her broken umbrella as best we could. The day was looking like it was going to be a hot one, for even with the breeze coming off the cool water, the activity of setting up the tarp had caused us both to get a slight glow of sweat on our skin.

It was not yet mid-morning at this point, so there was still lots of the day left to get to know each other. One thing too that needs to be understood, is that with a tarp that size you have just enough shade for two, which means that on a regular basis you have to get up and move your chair sideways throughout the day in order to stay in the shade. (The beach at this point runs almost exactly due East and West.)

At that time we started out with one of us on either side of one of the center (main) tent poles. I still got no indication that she had noticed the condition of my pole. My erection had continued to come and go all morning. At this point, I mostly just wanted to cum, but I was far too polite and shy to try and do much about it at the time.

In the beginning, the conversation was light. Mostly covering the usual stuff that you talk about in introductions. I explained how I’d joined the Navy mostly to get away from my parents. (I had a fairly decent childhood, I was just young and restless.) She told me how she had gone through nursing school, and got a job at a local Hospital. Her schedule often allowed her time off during the week to enjoy the beach.

Her demeanor towards me at first was more like a big-sister approach. Still, I could not help but look on with admiration at her beautiful body during our conversations. I placidly looked on in wistful thought at her highly animated form of delivery as we chatted and exchanged stories. At the time it was only with great difficulty that I was able to focus on the topic at hand, as I was utterly distracted by her beauty (and my resulting horny condition). I’ve no doubt now that she was fully aware of the effect she was having on me. She was being quite the tease but in a very subtle fashion.

By now it was an hour or so before midday (the sun’s zenith or transit or meridian time), I intentionally never looked at a clock while in “beach mode.” I was beginning to relax enough that I was not thinking so much about having a hard cock or not. And I was beginning to really enjoy this woman for her company, as well as for her good looks. Through her exquisite charm, she was starting to have a calming and relaxing effect on me. We were also sitting side-by-side by now, both directly under the tarp. We had already strolled down to the water for a cooling dip at least once, and the dried salt crystals on our skin would glisten when we were in the sun.

I began to tell her then of an adventure I experienced in the Fall after I graduated High School. I had ridden a bicycle from my hometown of New Orleans, to visit my older sister, who was living in a rural part of central Tennessee at the time. Through her, I’d been introduced to some of the local “Hippies.” I needed some work, and one couple had hired me to go work on their “farm.” They were from New Jersey, were starting an apple orchard farm there, and could use some extra labor at the time. He was a carpenter and could use help with that too. I worked for cash, dirt cheap. I was glad to get any work at all. It only lasted a few weeks, but a lot happened in that brief window of time. It was both fun and educational.

I revealed a story to Delilah of what was to be one of the most remarkable experiences of my young life. I was invited to a (Native American) “Indian Style Sweat”. Before the invitation, however, I was asked: “Are you offended by nudity?” (Huh?) In the end, I was naked in the woods with a bunch of Hippies, participating in an authentic Sweat Ceremony.

By now Delilah’s eyes were wide with interest. “Oh! I’ve never experienced anything quite like that,” she said. “It sounds like a lot of fun!”

I explained to her how cleansing the experience had been, and that I’d never felt cleaner in my life. There was a pause in the conversation, and I could see that she was very active in thought as she looked calmly out over the water. Her gaze began to match the Gulf, which had begun to calm down as the day’s warming temperatures had caused the breeze to lighten up. The placid colors of the turquoise water and clear Spring sky reflected nicely in her bright blue eyes.

Suddenly she turned toward me and lightly touched my arm. It was like a jolt of electricity went through me. It was the first time that we had made physical contact. She looked me in the eye and held my startled expression. I’m sure I had a pure “deer in the headlights” look. “You know,” she said in a soft voice, “When I’m out here, and it is private enough, I usually don’t bother with wearing my swimsuit.” There was a brief pause as she allowed time for the effect of this bombshell to settle. I’m sure the look of surprise on my face must have been quite comical. Then, with an almost amused demeanor, she continued with a purr, “And if you’d like to, you could join me!”

This was almost more than I could take. It had been quite a while since I’d last been laid or even had a date, and now this Goddess was inviting me to get naked with her! She continued to maintain contact with my arm, lightly touching, almost stroking it. I fidgeted nervously in my chair, trying to avert her stare, looking from side to side as if for an avenue of escape, and to see if there was anyone in sight. I slowly returned to her mesmerizing gaze. I stumbled and stuttered over some words as she continued to softly look at me, patiently waiting for me to get myself together.

I finally found my voice, and awkwardly replied that it would be OK, but admitted that being in her presence was causing me to be in a state that I would feel embarrassed about if I were to remove my shorts. I blushed profusely. “There is no need to be embarrassed,” she said, continuing in her soft and gentle voice, “It is perfectly natural for a young, healthy man such as yourself to respond to a woman like that. I won’t think anything of it, but it is your choice what you want to do. No pressure here.”

With that, after a quick look up and down the beach, she deftly removed her top and bottom, without hardly getting up from her chair. I was speechless. I marveled at her smooth, flawless skin, and the thick, curly bush that covered her mons. She looked at me and grinned. I slipped my thumbs under the waistband of my shorts, and slowly slid them down my body, and my woody went with it.

As the waistband cleared the end of my cock, it snapped back hard against my stomach. During this whole process, she stared flagrantly at my crotch. When I got my shorts completely off and I was settled back in my chair, she looked me square in the eye and said in a matter-of-fact tone, “Well… you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” And she gave me a very deliberate wink.