Public Sex on the Beach
Public Sex
Public sex is the only kind that truly soaks my pussy. That day the waves were perfect, the sun was high, and my surf instructor’s hands had already been on me longer than they needed to be. We were far enough down the shoreline that most people were just dots… until we weren’t. He pulled me behind a low dune, yanked my bikini bottoms to the side, and slid two thick fingers into me while I was still laughing. “Anyone could walk up,” I whispered. He just grinned and pushed deeper.
I dropped to my knees right there in the warm sand and took him into my mouth. Salt on his skin, the crash of the ocean behind us, and the sudden awareness that a couple had stopped walking and were staring. I didn’t stop. I looked straight at them while I deep-throated him, spit running down my chin. My instructor groaned, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and started fucking my face. More people slowed down. A guy pulled out his phone. That was when my clit started throbbing so hard it almost hurt.
He hauled me up, spun me around, and bent me over with my hands in the sand. The first thrust stretched me open and I moaned loud enough for the entire stretch of beach to hear. He fucked me hard and deep, one hand on my hip, the other reaching around to rub my swollen clit. Every time I looked up there were more eyes on us — some pretending to look at the water, some not pretending at all. Voyeurism has always gotten me off, but this was different. This was being used like a dirty little beach toy while strangers got free live porn.
He pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and pushed my knees to my chest so everyone could see exactly how wet and open I was. Then he slammed back in and started pounding me like he was trying to make me scream. I did. I came hard, clenching around him, sand sticking to my ass and thighs, while at least six people stood there watching me fall apart. One woman had her hand inside her own swimsuit. A guy was openly stroking himself through his board shorts. My instructor came with a growl, flooding me, and I felt it leak out onto the sand while they all kept staring.
We didn’t hurry to cover up. I sat there with his cum dripping out of me, catching my breath, locking eyes with whoever was still brave enough to look. That night I still couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I called a few regulars and walked them through every filthy detail over the phone — the sand in my ass crack, the way strangers stared at my stretched pussy, the exact second I came in public. Phone sex has never felt more real than when I’m still sticky from the beach and describing the voyeurism that just happened.
If you want to hear the rest of what those strangers saw — or tell me what you’d do if you were one of them — you know where I am.
— Whitney