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Beach Blanket Boingo
by Hector’s Pup
hectorspup@hotmail.com

One summer I was assigned to work with a subcontractor of 
our company in Portland, OR to help install, set up and 
operate precision equipment to reduce the number of reject 
parts this particular company was supplying us.  During my 
stay, I learned of a clothing optional beach on an island 
in the Columbia River.  This was a long stretch of beach 
that started with a swimsuits required area, that became a 
clothing optional stretch beyond.   If you took the walk 
from the "suits" stretch through the clothing optional area, 
you'd start off experiencing the exhibitionists within eye 
shot of the swimsuits.  Then you'd go through a stretch of 
hard-core party animals that stayed until dark.  Beyond them 
you typically encountered couples and families with pockets 
of tough looking women with short haircuts and tattoos.  
Then, after a small bay and around a corner, you'd come 
across a long stretch of gay men.  If you had a lot of time 
and energy and kept walking, you'd encounter private pockets 
of groups that would beach their boats beyond the fray.  
Each time I visited this island, it was always the same 
general make up as I walked west along the beach. 

Over the summer I set up next to the party animals or the 
couples and familyareas,  not feeling comfortable with 
either putting myself on display for the clothed gawkers or 
the gay men.  One day I thought I would venture out and have 
some private space beyond the gay area.  I was walking along 
a high sand ridge and came up upon a group of late teen or 
early twenty something year old women playing Frisbee and 
grab ass below me in a lower bowl-like area.  This was along 
the secluded stretch, so etiquette required me to move along.  
I pretty much froze, however, since I was mesmerized by their 
individual and collective beauty.   I was awash in indecision 
and peaked in frustration.  I was too close to get away with 
using my binoculars, and not close enough to get a full 
effect.  If there were a group to my right, I could feel 
justified in setting down right there, as I would be 
somewhat in the middle of the two groups, but setting down 
where I was, could be nothing other that appeared to be, a 
peak voyeuristic exploitative experience.

Compulsion got the better of me and I settled down along the 
ridge.  As the girls became aware of my presence, I sensed 
the annoyance in their glares.  I played it as nonchalantly 
as I could muster, trying to create the illusion that I 
could care less about their proximity to me.   They were not 
regulars to the nude beach, because they had good tans with 
white breasts and butts.  Two of them put bikini bottoms 
back on, one put on a loose shirt with tails in front and 
back that just ran to the crotch.  With it loosely buttoned 
and sleeves rolled up, she was sexier than if she had on 
nothing at all.

Waves of guilt were washing over me because my presence was 
destroying the uninhibited moment I was so much enjoying.  
It looked as if they were going to consign themselves to a 
period of sunbathing and started rubbing lotion on each 
other.   They seemed to forget about me, and got back in the 
moment, as they playfully alternated between massaging each 
other’s breasts and nipples, tweaking them, tickling, or 
goosing each other.   This was having an effect on me.  I 
was getting an erection as I lay on my side facing them 
pretending I was reading.  If there is one thing you don’t 
want to have at a nudist beach, it is a hardon.  Instead of 
rolling onto my stomach, I tried rolling the other way.  As 
I did so, I rolled onto something sharp, like the corner of 
a hard cover book, and got hung up while I fished it out of 
the way.   What I didn’t realize was that this silhouetted 
my staff to the sky and made it prominently plain to see, as 
was indicated by a couple of the girls pointing in my 
direction.

Finally, I made it over facing the other way, and felt I had 
better stay that direction for a while.  My woody wouldn’t 
calm down, because all I could think about were the nubile 
bodies in uninhibited play.  Then I did the unthinkable, I 
placed my palm around the head of my cock and gently 
squeezed.  My eyes were closed in sexual reverie and I was 
trying not to move my arm to give away my secret activity.  
Then I was brought back to reality by a cloud that shaded my
eyes, but didn’t cool any part of my body.  When I opened my 
eyes, I was surrounded by five of the most gorgeous young 
women I had ever seen in one place.  They stood arms akimbo, 
breasts jutting out proudly, and bodies glistening from 
sweat and lotion.  I tried to scoot my feet underneath me, 
and push myself up with my hands behind me on my blanket, 
when a foot came down on my chest pushing me back down on 
my back.  "Don’t stop now on our account stud." The shortest 
girl with blonde hair insisted.   "Put your hand back on it 
and get it hard again."

From my vantage point of crotches and boobs, I didn’t need 
much urging to bring it back to life.   Some toes started 
rolling my balls around.  I was too embarrassed to look at 
anyone in particular so I closed my eyes in reckless abandon 
and started sliding my hand up and down the shaft.  "Stop!" 
she insisted,  "Take your hand off, now."  My eyes opened 
and I was convulsing as I caught my breath.  She stopped me 
just as I was about to cum.   My frustration put the muscles 
of my body into a momentary tight tension.  Two girls helped 
me stand up and held my arms, another picked up my things, 
and the short blonde invited, "If we won’t let you beat it, 
join us."

As they started down the sandy incline toward their spot, I 
resisted and tried to hold my ground in apprehension.  A 
cute brunette put her hand around my balls and tugged me 
into following.  They found it amusing to watch my cock bob 
and weave as I walked through the sand.  When we arrived, 
one girl said, "I think we should put some water on this 
fire." And they marched me to the river, which at this time 
of year had a good deal of snow melt keeping the temperature 
into the low sixties.   They took me into just below crotch 
level and pushed me over into the deeper water.  I 
immediately tried to get back on my feet and regain a normal 
breathing, but they insisted that I remain in the water a 
minute longer.  As I was just beginning to get used to it, 
they waved me in and escorted me to the blankets.

All eyes were on my crotch.  The cold water had shrunk my 
cock to a head without a neck and my balls were clinging to 
my body for dear life.  Now, I didn’t know if I was 
shivering from the cold water or my embarrassment and
humiliation.  I stood trying to cover my crotch with my 
hands as they commented, joked, and jibbed at my situation.  
One of them had the idea to see how small they could make my 
genitals by icing them down even colder.  So they took some 
ice from a cooler and placed it in a towel like a sling and 
held the towel front and back rising me up on my tiptoes as 
they pulled.  That wasn’t enough for them, as they tried 
sawing the towels with the ice front and back to rub the ice 
cubes against my cock and balls.

The pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.  
First, there was the discomfort of my balls trying to retreat 
up into my body, then there was the burning coldness of the 
ice, and this combined with hard rough surface of the cubes 
hitting my balls as they slide across brought tears to my 
eyes.  When they saw this they stopped to inspect their 
experiment.  My dick was now half its normal circumference 
and my scrotum was drawn up tight and wrinkled and looked as 
if I had been castrated.  It was too uncomfortable to stand 
with my legs together so I was forced to be on display as 
they watched my crotch intently.  My stomach hurt and I was 
slouched forward somewhat, with my hands being held in 
someone else’s hands behind my back, so they wouldn’t 
obstruct the view.

After being scolded  for invading their space and privacy, 
they said that they were going to teach me a lesson.  I got 
a small lecture about how men are really the weaker sex 
because of the vulnerability between their legs.  I had to 
endure comments like "your balls can run, but they can’t 
hide."  As they were berating me, my dick and scrotum were 
coming back to life in the warm sun.  My balls started a 
churning and rolling process like a den of bears waking up 
from hibernation.   This brought out curious stares and a 
couple of the girls got down in front to get a closer look.  
This led to touching and holding to feel the balls rolling 
in their sack. "Curious things, these eggs of yours, I can 
make you moan in pleasure by doing this," as she gently 
massaged my sack, "or I can make you groan in agony."  as 
she gave them a two hand squeeze that sent me reeling to the 
ground in a fetal position.

There was a huddle while I tried to recover on the blanket.  
Then I was being coated with tanning oil from neck to toe.  
Someone produced a lady’s razor and they proceeded to shave 
me of all of my body hair from the neck down.  As they 
admired their handiwork, hands glided across my slippery 
body checking for any spots that were not as smooth as a 
baby’s bottom.  This was particularly soothing to my aching 
balls and brought my hardon back to life.  Then out came a 
camera.  I was posed in all sorts of humiliating postures 
and instructed to stroke myself just enough to keep myself 
hard, but not to cum.   They shot a whole roll and part of 
a second before they tired of this show.

For the grand finale, they had me lie on my back and bring 
my legs back so that my feet touched the ground behind my 
head.  Their goal was to have me suck my own cock, but I was 
not limber enough to reach it.  Using a fist grip on my 
scrotum, one girl levered my rear as far as it would go and 
held it there while another started to stroke my cock.  It 
was difficult to breathe in this position to begin with, but 
as I was nearing a badly needed orgasm, one girl tried to 
have me open my mouth by taking her thumb and middle finger 
and pressing at the back of my jaw.  When this didn’t get 
the desired effect, the girl with the death grip on my sack 
gave my balls a slap in warning of what could happen if I 
didn’t comply.  I opened my mouth and received the majority
of my own cum in it.   I wanted to spit it out and was 
gagging but another slap had me eagerly downing the load.

"Good job Dork." The girl said, who was holding my balls in 
her hand, as she patted them for emphasis.  She released me 
and let me wallow in my pain as the girls got dressed and 
packed up.   The blanket I was on was the last thing before 
they left.  Three of them grabbed an end and pulled, leaving 
me to roll onto the sand.  The sand stuck to my oiled body 
where I rolled, and two of them picked up handfuls of sand 
trickling it on the parts that had not been coated.   They 
blew kisses "good-bye" and walked off.   I still remember 
the exquisite image of their gorgeous legs and luscious 
butts fading off into the horizon.

