Insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result. To be different meant I had to do something… unusual. We discussed it, Laurent and I, and a holiday at a naturist resort would be the difference we needed.

On my first day, naked on the beach, the scent of hot sand is piqued by distant tobacco smoke, and I shiver in the heat with nerves.

It is not because I am unattractive, I am not as curvaceous as some, and mine is a delicate frame. My shoulders match the width of my hips with a pleasing cinch to my waist. I am taller than average, a willowy creature with limbs to match and olive skin. I love my hair; it is long and brunette with a natural curl. As an extension of my personality, it is a prop to my hazel eyes, which express my emotions too readily. As I recline onto my elbows, the long tresses rest over my breasts, melded to my frame as broad mounds.

The zephyr breeze is a caress from a relentless lover. It seduces me slowly, arousing my mind and senses with a lyrical intensity that will not cease. Warmed inside by unfamiliar desires, soothed by the crest and fall of a lazy tide, the sun scorches away my reticence.

I am Amandine, the ex-girlfriend of Laurent Badeux. Jilted before we came here as the former puddle of tears that cowed and thought the world would end. I am the quiet, unassuming woman who gazes into space when I pass you by. I have all the youthful introversion that a nineteen-year-old can possess. In fact, I have enough for two nervous souls.

Sweeping my hair back, I tie it into a ponytail. It is a small step, a display of my insignificant confidence. To look at others, hiding behind my sunglasses, I can admire them, and their nonchalance reassures me. I lounge for a few hours until I find my courage, walking naked into the sea for a swim. I am too nervous to be aroused, yet something is there, a tiny voice within. No one will know, and I encourage it.

-=-

For three days, I submit to freedom, and this liberation stirs something profound inside. I must temper it, or I might lose control. Its power is stunted by the limitations I impose on myself. I will not indulge in the hedonistic delights this place offers. Yet, its promise swirls inside with a monstrous potency, but I am too cowardly to act upon it.

Today, temptation betters my restraint. I heard of this place through eavesdropping, and my curiosity would not be placated all day. My hair is loose, flapping in the stiff breeze, and a louche state of mind loosens my gait. The sway of my hips is a tentative siren call. Undeniable sensual flames lick within, and I am not the shop assistant from Marais anymore. I can be anybody here - sexual, coquettish, perhaps available.

Perched on a dune, the fading sun colours the wisps of cloud red. What I see fires my imagination. My need crawls under my skin as a prickly heat I cannot scratch, and it pulses in waves. These are not the witching hours I avoid but the embers of the afternoon. Before me are the people that cannot wait, and I doubt they know each other. I can empathise because this is their merciful release from the gnawing temptation. It might be their kink, their fantasy realised, or the regular denouement of their afternoon.

Orgasms like this, every afternoon. I am burning, and I want to be burnt.

I linger on one, a young, muscular… Adonis. He is fully erect with a pleasing curve to his thick shaft that is shorn of any hair. It is delicious and proportioned perfectly to his frame, a blend of power and athleticism. He stands as one of them in a crescent around her. She is eager and hungry, stroking two while her head bobs back and forth on a third. Sun-bleached hair scraped back in a ponytail, naked as I am, and enthusiastic hands caress, cup, and squeeze her fulsome breasts. She is pleasing to the eye, a little older, still delectable, and mesmerising to watch. Some are waiting their turn, and others are here to spectate. She is astride one lucky soul, rubbing her naked sex on his face, lofting her hips enough to see his tongue lapping at her folds. The flushed pillows of her vulva glisten, and I cannot tear my eyes away.

Amongst so much male arousal, I fight the urge to offer a welcoming mouth and my slender hands. The thought quivers through me. I must bite my lower lip because I yearn to touch myself. My clit throbs, and if I breech my sex, its juices will spill easily.

Laurent was the first to learn of my intimate secret. If he could see me now, my naked pallor hued by the kiss of sunlight. Biscuit and not bronzed, hiding behind sunglasses with my voluminous hair tied back. Watching her, sucking, caressing their tight balls, grinding on a different man’s face. Within me, my mind races, and a cauldron of arousal boils. The urge to masturbate is so strong, yet it would be an open invitation for others to use me as they do with her.

Distracting myself, it sparkles to the horizon as a sea of diamonds. They glimmer too, her pierced nipples, stout and erect, probably sensitive… I crave them. I doubt that would be requited as I watch her breasts jiggle and then restrained again as different hands squeeze each one. Her head turns, and she faces me. In between erections, she grins at me with her eyes hidden, I try to reciprocate, and at the vital moment, my muscle memory fails me. Perhaps it is an enigmatic smile because I am not shocked, and I hope it conveys my fascination.

The thought of their vibrant seed splashing onto my skin shudders through my soul.

I watched them ejaculate as streaks and fat drops onto her body. I cannot return to my hotel room fast enough, and my skin is livid with the faint caress of my macrame dress. My sex pulses so powerfully I might grab a man from the passers-by, lead him somewhere, and demand he plough my feverish cunt.

In my bathroom, under a cool shower, the ferocity of my libido must be appeased. The foamy suds are torture and caressing my elfin curves; it should be someone else… anyone else. The thought that strangers take their gratification through me plunges my fingers into my swollen sex. Exploring my body as they would, squeezing my springy breast and plucking its nipple, my imagination sparks with the sights I have witnessed. Overwhelmed by a rapid and vigorous orgasm, I cling to the tiled wall, stifling my cries as they echo.

I am not sated.

Clean and prone on the sensual bedsheets, I hump my hand. Writhing faster, my uncontrollable mind rifles through the most tawdry and despicable acts I crave. Every one of my orifices is a servant to their needs… all of them, all at once. Plunging a finger into my unsullied ass, I squeeze out the one that lurks deepest within. It surges, larger and larger, stalling my climax until I am a twitching corpse. This is the vicious climax, the one when my conviction is greatest for the most depraved things I need.

I bury my face into the soft down of the pillow, muffling my visceral cries. This is the one I will have when I am deranged with lust. The one I will experience when I am filled with urgent men using me as their toy. The moment they fill each hole with their copious seed.

Rolling over, I am panting, flushed and glowing with temporary relief.

-=-

“Hey beautiful, are you alone? You are too ravishing to be single.”

Under my macrame dress, I busy myself, my flip-flops slapping my feet faster in my eagerness to retreat.

“Hey, beautiful…”

I will not turn around.

“Hey…”

He is louder, closer, or both.

Returning from the dunes, I am at my weakest state. As a spectacle, I watched strangers fucking. She was a hostage to her lusts, taken at both ends, as an angel on all fours. On her back, fucked by a succession of men, a production line of groans, keeping her hands, mouth and sun-kissed cunt busy. I lost count of her shuddering climaxes and the men that decorated her body with their pearly seed.

My sex is pulsing again, and its craven need for hot meat is a relentless aggravation. Rounding the corner, the sandy tarmac at the beach’s edge is the first concession to the naturist village. I have not heard him again in what feels like minutes, and it is probably only seconds.

Approaching the conveniences and the public showers, I could use their tepid water to remove the gritty sensation from my feet and chill my ardour. Maintaining a quick pace, I am urgent for my solitude, desperate to relive the images seared in my mind.

The skid of shoes on the path alerts me. Startled, I face its direction, and my heart sinks. He was the one watching me as I watched her being fucked.

“Finally… hey beautiful.”

“Is he bothering you?”

A different voice, softer and feminine, sounds assertive, and I turn to face her. I do not recognise her in a bikini top and tie-dye sarong except for the sunglasses and welcoming smile.

I stammer, “Yes… yes, he is.”

“Hey, you!” She gestures with a dismissive jerk of her head, and her delicate upturned nose suggests his direction of travel, “She is not interested. Keep walking.”

My relief is palpable as he crumples, turns and walks away.

“Thank you.”

Removing her sunglasses, she greets me with a curl of her lips, “No problem.”

“I am Amandine.”

“Elise.” She frowns. “Were you at the dunes again?”

I nod, suddenly recognised, and feel skittish, “Yes.”

Elise tuts as I look at the shower. Choosing to say nothing, prickled with embarrassment, I push the chrome button and douse my feet. A few late stragglers are leaving the beach, sharing the second shower. She is hovering, and I want them to melt away, and we are alone again.

She watches the couple leave and faces me, “If you do not mind me saying. I would not expect you at the dunes.”

“No? Why?”

She chuckles, “Alone, there, and you are what? Twenty?”

“Nineteen.”

Elise gasps in disbelief, “You like to watch?”

I am burning with shame and tongue-tied, “I… I do.”

Looking at her, her grin widens, “I admire your courage.”

“Thanks.”

“Your admirer had a point. You are beautiful and will attract attention there. I noticed you.”

“Thank you… I think.”

I cannot look her in the eyes. Lingering on her lips, I know what they look like wrapped around a hard cock

She chuckles again, “You are here on your own?”

I nod, feeling furtive, and my embarrassment is tinged with shame. Elise is so brusque and matter-of-fact. Six men shot their cream over her face and breasts yesterday. It was as if it never happened.

Her smile is laced with warmth, “Are you doing anything right now?”

“No.”

“There is a bar. It is quiet and good for conversation. The men here are mostly fine, but you look shaken. Let me buy you a drink.”

-=-

Elise learned everything in reverse, my secret first and my motivation with Laurent second. Playing with the condensation on the bottle, its effects went straight to my head. Beer, getting people together for three-thousand years.

Elise is older, in her early thirties. Her body carries the scent of coconut butter, her hair loose, and she is an even deep brown all over. I want to admire her body, yet I must maintain eye contact. She has attractive features, juicy cheeks, and a pleasing jawline. Her eyes penetrate my soul and are the deepest blue, perfect with her blonde hair. I have seen her naked, broad-shouldered, curvaceous hips, strong limbs and generous breasts. She is Amazonian compared to my skinny bones.

She listens as the alcohol loosens my tongue. I had not broached the subject; perhaps this was how things are done. Any company was welcome, and I did not want to risk offending her. Four days of solitude, despite my preference for it, is too much. Elise is alone here too, divorced, messier than a teenage breakup. She was trapped, still young, and unwilling to let her best years pass her by. I adore her attitude, we have this in common, and I can learn from her.

Sighing, she lowers her glass, “I wish I did this at your age.”

“Oh? Why?”

“The fun I could have,” she grins.

I frown, “What fun?”

Her eyes light up, and her smile is infectious, “Okay, Amandine. If I had one thing to say to my younger self, it would be just that. Have fun.”

It is a moment ladened with innuendo, and more beer is all I need.

“Like at the dunes yesterday?”

Wide-eyed, reflecting the last sunbeams, Elise eases forward, “Finally, you are getting interesting,” she purrs. “Is this something you want to do?”

I do not baulk but curse my demure nature instead. The words would need to be prised from me with more than beer. I nod, crushed by nervousness.

Elise smiles with self-congratulation and reclines into the plastic chair, “I knew it.”

“Your advice to yourself, easy to say,” I sigh, “difficult to do because I am so nervous.”

With pursed lips, she looks mischievous, “I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

She shoots forward, taking my hand, “Come out with me tonight.”

“Where?”

“Club Bizou.”

My eyebrows reveal what I know, “That is… the.”

She nods, grinning at my incredulity. There is that leer I saw with a cock in each hand.

I finish my glass in a hurry and cough after I bolt it. Elise laughs.

“We will get some food here and some more drinks.” She leans in to share a confidence, “Did you bring something risque to wear?”

“Yes.”

“Then Cinderella, we shall go to the ball.” Elise holds her finger up, and I am puzzled, “On one condition.”

“Oh?”

“No bra and no panties.”

-=-

My mind swims, and I am liquid, dancing with Elise. Glittering in silver sequins, a snug crop top and mini-skirt stretch over my cavorting figure. My sex is naked, easily visible if I do not cross my legs, and even then, I imagine it would peek through. Of course, she chooses a white mini-dress, highlighting her flawless tan, moulded to her racy curves, and the piercings of her nipples can be seen through it.

By now, we have shared more than our biographies; we pass comments about men and a few women. I buzz with the glow from alcohol and the butterflies of a new friendship. She is kind, accommodating of my naivete, and challenges it; I embrace that as much as she finds it amusing.

The music pulsates with its relentless four-to-the-floor rhythm as the low lights swirl. Club Bizou, infamous to prudes, famous to the lascivious, and I walk the tightrope in between.

We goad men, they approach, and whilst Elise does all the talking, I am listening avidly. I am attracted to some, others I am not. It is a game, the rules of which I am learning fast. Of course, sex is the conclusion; it is obvious, it is what I desire, and here, easily obtained. Elise impresses on me that we have all the power to decide. We are not weak and are in charge. Dawning on me, whether it is Dutch courage or not, I am relaxed, revelling in this newfound dynamic.

Elise shimmies as we move to the rolling bass line, tilting her head, a long caress along my side draws me in. We swoop together, a step closer, until the prospect steals my breath. Damn my eyes, they betray me, they dip to her lips, and I watch them curl.

She pouts, and they are so inviting. I have to pull back, and I am on the brink, teetering. Her hand clasps my hip, her leg is between mine, and she pulls on my behind. We move to our music now, and the caress of her thigh against my naked sex shocks my body.

The peals of desire will not fade, and I am drawn to writhe upon it. I am in freefall as my mind empties, and I must banish the twin demons of my frustration and sexual precociousness. Looking at her lips again, her inquisitive expression implores, and her eyes lower to mine. My arms rest on her shoulders, her evocative perfume is the last straw, and I place my lips against hers. Soft as pillows, silken in texture, it is the boldest statement of my short life. It seizes me with a tumultuous power as she steers my undulating hips, dragging my sex against her.

Everything from today is the fuel to my incendiary state. I have not appeased it, and the power of its compulsion will not be constrained. My inhibitions have never been so weak. She might press against my lips again, open my mouth, and slide her tongue in. So easily done, and I would let her; Elise would have all of me at her disposal.

Backing away, she grins, and I cannot adore her more. It is a taste, a confirmation, and sliding her hand into mine, we thread ourselves through the dancing bodies.

Finding a place where the shadows are the longest, this is a patient and tender demonstration. Our chaste kisses escalate by increments, and her caress adorns my body. Fingertips against my forearm make me shiver. They continue around my elbow, up my arm, and through my hair; I am undone. The tip of her tongue lights the fuse, and we fold into each other’s arms.

“Yes?” she whispers and nuzzles my ear.

“Yes.” I gasp, sucking on her neck.

“Are you ready to be fucked?”

“Yes.”

“Like I was? In the dunes.”

I have to do it and bite my lip. I nod, brimmed with the remnant of my nervousness, and Elise purrs. Her thighs open by the tiniest increment. My eyes do not waver, I have to know, as my tender fingers edge up her soft inner thigh.

“Yes, Amandine.”

She is soaked as wet velvet. Sucking on my earlobe, I slide my finger inside her; she is my first.

-=-

I am baying, gripping the beach towel, panting as my Adonis plunges deeper. Through weighted eyes, Elise is next to me on her back; her hand caresses my hanging breast, scissoring my over-sensitive nipple. Her legs are open, ankles propped on his shoulders, as a stranger drives into her.

The sweep of his girth hits that spot, and as I cry out, I am silenced by a thick erection in my mouth. The vibrations of my groans travel the length of his shaft as he rifles it. Gathering my hair in his hand, I am pulled and pushed between them, without malice but to provide them with pleasure. I am tugged, adjusted, and led to what this circle of men want to see. It is before me as treasure, the cleft of Elise’s glistening cunt in all its well-fucked glory. We are sticky with sweat and adorned with streaks of seed.

My arms wrap around her thighs, and her pointed tongue swirls around my hard clit. The thrum of my moans vibrates as I suck on hers, with no reluctance, no niceties. I crave her bittersweet juices. We are moulded to suit them; they want the squeeze and convulsions of our orgasms on their rampant shafts.

Club Bizou was a kaleidoscope of colours and a tapestry of groans. Strobe lighting captured men and women in carnal pleasures, and its rooms seethed with naked flesh. Elise led, a kiss here, a caress there until our quarry bent me over, and finally, I took a stranger’s hard meat between my legs. Watching over me, Elise directed his attention, extracting my confession one thrust at a time. My sorceress weaved a magical spell, ensuring that every one of my secrets and many of my masturbatory fantasies were made real. Fucked in a room, laid back, with hard cocks in each hand, one in my mouth, and Elise licked my cunt for the first time.

Finally, I was placated in the way that only a good fuck can untangle my mind. I shrieked out my frustrations in a monstrous climax that exorcised all of my angst. My purpose was clear, and my excitement at the possibilities never felt more tangible. The dam broke, washing my reticence away; my desires storming through me as an endless deluge of lust.

I was not alone now during these languid days. With knowing looks and the dalliance of fingertips skirting our erogenous places, Elise and I are feral for each other by that late afternoon witching hour.

Firm hands take my hips, pulling, and his circular motion grazes that place inside. Fuck, he knows what he is doing. I cannot go back; I am no longer that taciturn female. I am a woman, a slut, and I have two hard cocks taking my holes. Salivating over the one in my mouth, I close my lips around him. Hot and rigid, I suck firmly, dissuading him from leaving.

Elise’s tongue flicks with its unique patience as the two men plunder my holes. Nuzzling under my clitoral hood, I want to pitch up and cry out. It is approaching like a thief in the night. Closer, closer still, and it strikes without warning. A sudden climax rips through me, guzzling on the stiff shaft in my mouth. Devouring it, I am pure electricity; there is no mind, only my instinctive body. Suddenly, I am empty and want to complain. Elise is the perfect distraction, sucking on my folds as hot seed splatters my back.

He is swollen in my mouth; I suck harder, eager to experience something new and make him cum there, swallowing it down. He pulls out, and my doe eyes are the final encouragement. I will not flinch as I watch him stroking, yet I am crumbling under the sensory overload of Elise’s attentions. Holding out my tongue, his generous load splashes my face, and I dive in to clean the remnants from him and swallow his last drops.

There are rasped words, words of pleasure, and compliments. We are both being fucked, each of us in a soixante-neuf on our sides, lapping at each other, goading the other to give them what they seek. Under the fading sun, we clamour for grip as they pound and shake our bodies. He is as strong as steel as I drink in Elise’s juices; the scent of her musk is everything as we buck and writhe. She cries out and trembles; we have given her what she craves. I swell with pride as warm seed splashes my thigh, and his plosive groans announce more. Rubbed over my pert behind and hip, and I am not empty for long.

I am shivering, my body overloaded, and my cunt aches with the echos of four rampant cocks. We are blotchy with sweat and arousal, caked in dry seed, and it runs between my breasts. Elise is above me, resting her sex against mine. This is beyond our intimacy, something I have never tried before. She clasps on my thigh, pressing her mons against mine.

“Just follow my lead.”

Nothing else matters, and we are on the dancefloor of Club Bizou again. It is an overwhelming sensation, steering my hips, trying to loft my cunt, grind and follow her movements. Elise is almost a shadow against the backdrop of the acid-azure sky. She is my friend, my sexual raconteur, my lover, and my teacher. Her free hand roams as the baton under the guidance of a conductor. She is rousing the ensemble of my senses, goading the potential larger than the sum of its parts. Convinced that my fluid hips match hers, she beckons more men to join us. They kneel alongside me, taking my hands to stroke their stiff cocks. Adjusting my head to the side, another takes my mouth.

I am sensitive, and my body is wired for this instinctive response. My side glance sees nothing but delight on Elise’s face. The soft burr of her instructions is the soothing balm that delivers its first portents. The overexcited youth in my mouth adorns my quivering breasts with plenty of fresh cream. Her hand rubs it over them, skidding it over my puckered nipples. It is the final encouragement as it seethes and growls within.

My back arches, and I am cramping and tensing, obeying Elise to the last as she flattens me down. I pitch up again, trembling, seizing up, and I cannot cry out. I am lost and carefree, watched as I approach its summit. It is dark behind my flickering eyelids, and the slash of warm liquid across my quivering breasts is the trigger. My free hand is directed to Elise’s breast, toying with its pierced nipple. The relentless sweep of her cunt mashed against mine takes me to the edge of the abyss.

It rumbles as a vibration, then pounds as if the ground is shaking. Growing and growing as I thrash my last and fall.

I am gone. I hear nothing and feel nothing except a relentless torrent of ecstasy.

-=-

It is heavy, even with wheels, and I prop it against the wall. Two large glossy-painted doors stand between me and destiny. They are neatly presented, a column of buttons with handwritten names inside their clear perspex box.

It is pressed, and I hear no sound. Waiting, waiting and hoping, it is ridiculous because I am expected. Yet I will not believe until I am ensconced in her arms, and all my senses are filled with her.

The door creaks, and the fillip to my heart is the joy I have craved for weeks.

I beam as she does, standing in the doorway. Under the texture of cool linen, the warmth of her curves is in my hands. Her perfume is as welcome as her tinkling laughter as we embrace. It is a solitary kiss with a tender vacuum; it lingers a little longer than a sign of friendship.

Goodbye, Marais.

“Hello, Elise.”