So now for the last four years we come here, to lie every day in the dunes, as naked as the day I was born, and to be free as the bird, watching potential suitors display their prowess, like birds with a dazzling array of colours on their plumage, for me the fleshy nudity of the men, from brown to black, from grey to bald, from athletic to rotund and small, and cocks stiff and flaccid, I watch them all, as my husband films, for me to watch and relive during the dark Winter months, here in Sweden.It was eight, and already the Sun beat down in the thirties, as we breakfasted on our balcony, I was still nude, straight from bed, as I gazed out over the hot sands, knowing I would see more of the same, and as my husband stared into his day old newspaper, my fingers were already preparing myself, as I slowly rubbed my stiff clitoris, all this freedom of sexual expression, was what I loved about here, even the couple in the next room, well the male occupant in particular, his bitch wife was. As we got close, we heard our newfound friends say, “Courtney… Joe… where are you guys going, the party is just getting started.” I took one last stab at boosting Joe’s stock and said, “We party all the time in college… right now we just want to go and have a little alone time, if you know what I mean.” Suddenly we were followed by an immature but flattering chorus of “Yeah Joe-Joe…” and “You are the man,” as we walked out the door, and I could only smile. Once we were in the car, and as I started driving, Joe said, “Boulder is in the other direction.” “It’s too early to go home Joe, so we’re going to my place,” I said, still not exactly certain I knew what I was going to do when I got there. As we drove neither of us said anything, and before I knew it, we were pulling into my garage. When we walked through the door, I threw my keys on the counter, and then I took Joe by the hand and led him over to the couch. After I sat him down I moved to the middle of the floor, and without.
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