On the Beach, Part 8

Previous episodes.

It has been a really long time since I posted to this story, which started as a request and tribute for the immaculate Besos de Cuero.

A near-death experience has led Tara to a group of hedonists who are determined to help her unravel the mystery of her sexuality. An evening she thought would end in a simple hookup has become a transformative sexual encounter. We join her with her new companions, all naked, as they start unwrapping her soul.

Avril sat next to me. Her skin on mine. She was warm and smelled like lavender and marijuana. She rested her hand on my bare belly. I gazed up at her. Her eyes were a lustrous brown.

“Look into my eyes, okay?” she said. Her gentle accent was soothing. “Don’t look away.”

I nodded, gazing at her.

“So. Tell me more about guilt and sex,” she said. “You were told sex was bad?”

I nodded. “Honestly, I’m sure I drove my mom nuts. I was a very, uh, free-spirited child. I was spanked for saying or doing anything that might lead to sin.”


“They told me I was going to hell,” I said bluntly. “Honestly, I was spanked up until the day I left the house for college. Literally that very morning.”

“Oh,” Avril said. “As an adult woman?”

I swallowed. “Yes.” I would never feel like an adult woman around my father. “My parents wanted me to go to a Christian school. My father was sure Florida State would doom me to hell. He was probably right. I got into a lot of trouble.”

Avril laughed. “You still are getting it trouble,” she said, and I laughed too. Here I was, naked, with a group of virtual strangers.

If my parents had only known the truth about their girl. I’d gotten into plenty of trouble in high school, too. There were lots of car backseats with my stain on them in my hometown. I’d been looking for something in those steamy, hasty trysts. Even then I understood that much.

“Go on,” Avril said. “Go deeper. Tell me about every sexual thing you can recall.”

Maybe it was the wine, but I felt completely accepted by these people. I told about my religious upbringing, and my rebellion against it. I realized that most of my rebellion involved nudity, masturbation, or both. Many of the details I’d forgotten, like how I used to put my Bible under my hips while I masturbated and then prayed for forgiveness afterwards.

As I spoke, Avril let her hand slide lower on my belly.

“Very good,” Avril said. “Go deeper.”

I told story after story of my entire sexual history. Sometimes Avril would stop on very particular details that seemed unimportant to me, such as the intimate details of a handjob:

“Do you remember how you cleaned up after he came?” she asked at one point.

I laughed. “I don’t remember… I don’t… Wait.”

Suddenly I had a clear, crisp recollection of wiping my boyfriend’s cum on my own panties after giving my first handjob. I kept the panties dirty and used them for friction while masturbating for weeks. I’d forgotten. It seemed so grossly odd, now. I remember how turned on I’d been, and how afraid I was that his dried semen would somehow get me pregnant, and how that thought heightened the arousal for me.

I told all of this and Avril nodded, as if it was the answer she’d been expecting. Why this was important, I have no idea.

“Tell me, does cum disgust you or are you strangely attracted to it?”

“Strangely attracted,” I admitted.

I remembered tasting semen the first time, how I’d been fascinated with it. How it made my boyfriend uncomfortable, even, and he didn’t want to kiss me for days.

So it went, down through my whole sexual history. Avril dredged up story after story and patterns began to emerge as if she was administering a personality test.

“So you had a tendency to nudity, then?” she asked.

I laughed. “I used to play a game in the woods near our house. I called it ‘risking it’. Basically, the game was to start on one end of the wood, strip down and hide my clothes, and then run the path to the other side of the woods and back to my clothes. Naked. Without getting caught.”

Avril nodded wisely. “Did you ever get caught?”

“No,” I said. “Some close calls.”

Risking it had been a self-inflicted punishment. I would do something ‘bad’, like masturbation, and then punish myself with by risking it. This became self-perpetuating.

“It sounds like a child’s game. How old were you?”

I flushed. “Honestly… Honestly? I never stopped ‘risking it’. I still do it.”

“Really?” Avril said, her eyes sparkling. She kissed me, her lips curling with a delighted grin. “You’re wonderfully creative.”

“Uh, it’s hard to admit that. On campus, in buildings, on a trail not far from campus. Yeah. Not safe, I guess. Still never been caught though.”

Avril narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to be caught?”

The question stuck like a barb. My throat tightened. I had a hard time speaking.

“Maybe,” I whispered.

“Tell me the absolute truth,” Avril said.

“I mean, I don’t want to be murdered, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you ‘risk it’ by running around naked trying to avoid getting caught by… men?”

“Ugh, it sounds crazier the more you talk about it.”

Avril leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. “Dearest, you still haven’t told me the truth. Tell me what this game means to you.”

I licked my lips. “When I masturbate, I feel shame. I relieve the shame through punishment, and the punishment I’ve developed since I was a child is to get naked and go places I shouldn’t be.”

“Yet, doesn’t this game turn you on?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“So it leads to more masturbation. Which leads to more punishment.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“You hope the a man will catch you. He will tie you up. He will torture you without hurting you. He will make you feel things that you can’t make yourself feel.”

My nerves tingled at what she’d just described. Avril smiled.

“You looked away,” Avril said. “Look into my eyes. Is this why you play the game? Do you want a man to force you to feel pleasure because then the pleasure isn’t your fault and you cannot feel guilty about it?”

I was stunned into silence. I cleared my throat. “Maybe,” I admitted.

Avril looked at Elie, who nodded. Avril’s hand drifted from my tummy and caressed the curls on my mons pubis. It was comforting, like my sex was a pet that needed attention. I sighed, settling into the couch.

“So tell me about masturbation. You masturbate often?”

“I keep track, actually. I know it sounds crazy, but I have a system. If I touch myself, but don’t have an orgasm, it’s less minutes of punishment. If I give myself an orgasm, I have more to make up for.”

“So you’ve developed an exquisite system of edge play,” Elie noted.

“Yeah,” I said. “Look, my system doesn’t work. I started it as a girl because I was trying to stop thinking about boys and touching myself, because of the Bible or something.”

Avril smiled. “We’re the last people on earth to judge you, dearest. What do you imagine when you masturbate?”

I licked my lips.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just say the words.”

I took a deep breath. “I imagine getting caught while risking it. I imagine a man, sometimes. Or a group of men. And they catch me, and have their way with me.”

“They restrain you?”

“Yes. They tie me, or hold me down.”

“Do they torture you?”

“Yes,” I said, starting to squirm.

“Is the torture pleasurable or painful?”

“Both,” I admitted.

“Do you ever imagine them really hurting you?”

“No,” I said.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Avril said, kissing me tenderly. Her fingers moved a little lower. I uncrossed my legs and parted them slightly to let her slide a finger gently between them.

“Tell me, have you ever explored this side of your true self with a partner?”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Your entire sexual being seems to center around a pivot point. You find excuses to get naked. You play a dangerous game to get some excitement and fuel your fantasies. I believe that these signs point to something important about your true self.”

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Tell me, Tara, have you ever put yourself in the position of being an object of lust?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Let me ask a different question. Has any past lover ejaculated on your face?”

“Yes,” I said. “Like a porno.”

“Did you like this?” Avril said. “Would you do it again?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“What did you like about this? You don’t get pleasure from having a man’s cum on your face.”

“No. It’s not because it feels good. It’s because… I like it, sort of want it. Actually, I have no idea how to describe it.”

“Do you know why you like it?” Avril said.

“I guess I like it when men do things to me.”

“Do you think it’s degrading or disrespectful to have a man cum on your face?”

“Well, no,” I said, hesitating. “I mean…  I like the feeling of letting a guy just do stuff to me. On me. Does that make sense?”

Avril nodded. “You make more and more sense to me, dear.”

“I like to be bossed around,” I admitted. “I’m not very sexually aggressive, but more…”

“Submissive,” Elie said sternly. His voice sent a shiver through me.

Avril spoke, drawing my attention back to her. “What I’m trying to draw out of you is whether you are passive because your path is to be a Vessel, or because your socialization has trained you to think so.”

“A Vessel?” I said.

“A Vessel’s natural state is emptiness, yet she exists only to be filled,” Elie said.

A shudder ran up my spine. She exists only to be filled. The words echoed in the chambers of my heart.

“You think I’m a Vessel?” I said.

Avril smiled. “Sexual passivity can be a powerful tool of self-discovery, so long as there is also an active partner. You are like a sexual flower just waiting to burst into bloom.” As Avril said this, her finger teased between my petals. “I think I can read you now.”

She kissed me on the lips. Tenderly. Lingeringly. Her finger circled my clitoris in lazy circles. I sparkled. The sensation was delicious. Everything felt so natural.

I stared into her eyes when the kiss broke. “Tell me,” I said. “Tell me what you know about me.”

She put her palm over my bare breast. Her energy warmed my heart.

“I know that you are blind to your own desires. All of your life you have gone through the motions of sex, but you have never been truly penetrated. No man has ever really known you. In this way you are very much alone. I also see that you instinctively seek more from life, from sex. Your naked games are an expression of this yearning, a spiritual rebellion.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Let us awaken you,” Elie said, speaking for Avril.

“You must allow yourself explore what you desire,” Avril said. “Let us help you.”

“I don’t know how,” I moaned, wiping tears from my eyes. “I have no idea.”

“Darling, we’ll show you the way,” Avril said.

“Just tell me what to do.” I said.

She laughed. “I will let Elie guide you.”

Avril seemed to speak directly to me in a way noone had ever done before. It wasn’t the words. Perhaps it was her touch on my skin, or the sincerity in her voice, but I found myself opening, blooming beneath her words. I threw my arms around her and pulled her naked body against mine. I kissed her neck, her cheeks, her beautiful lips. I petted her purple hair.

Avril kissed my cheeks. Lars leaned close and gave me a hug. I laughed. His hard cock rested on my hip. Asha was still lazily touching her pussy, having listened intently to the unfolding of my sexual past.

Elie took my hands and bid me to stand. He stared into my soul.

“You said it all started with masturbation,” he said.


“You said that you feel guilty when you masturbate, even as a grown woman?”


“Then that will be your next test,” he said.

5 thoughts on “On the Beach, Part 8

  1. Pingback: On the Beach, Part 7 – sexscribbler

  2. Hmm. Interesting 🙂 I wondered what had happened to her. Must be one of the longest tantalizing cliff hangers ever 😉
    I eventually wrote something about the ocean / lover thing. It got me out of a rut. But that’s another story
    Anyway, I enjoyed this and catching up with her. I like the Risking It game in the woods especially. And the idea of the vessel too. There is some intersting dailogue here. and it’s a turn on of course.
    What next?

    I’m glad you’re back. Really. I kind of missed you and wondered if you were ok.;)

    More soon I hope.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for the support. I had a bit of a dark stretch, but I seem to be coming out the other side. 🙂

      Not sure why I picked up this story again. I got a bit stuck and dropped the thread. Nothing that two years can’t cure, right?

      There’s quite a lot of dialogue, I guess because Tara’s trying to figure out the same things I’m trying to figure out. A bit of philosophy hopefully won’t ruin the smut in the end.

      Reality check: risking it was a real game that I used to play in my early teens, although not quite so dramatically as in the story. There was a ravine near our home and I would take off articles of clothing and sneak around, daring myself to hike along the path as far from the abandoned clothing items as I could stand.

      The masturbation play/punishment was something I did around the same time, too. Let’s just say I’ve always been creative with my sexuality. 🙂

      As always, I really appreciate your words. It’s lovely to hear from you.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I had a sense there was something more autobiographical about this one. It seems realer. Those details add to it and deepen it. There’s no action here but there is a promise of it. Erotica works on that promise. Tantalizing you. Teasing you.
    I like having my brain – as well as my body – teased. 😉 So that’s good. I’ve actually read this three times now. That’s how much of a slut I am. 😉

    The risking game is actually pretty hot and interesting. Have you ever thought of writing about it? just describing it. And your emotions. The exhilaration. The love of the risk itself. Being naked in the woods has always appealed to me too. In fact every other post I write seems to have someone naked in the woods ha ha . – see The Gate for my fantasy. 😉

    I had a really bad year in 2016 too. A crazy nightmare year. Everything that could go wrong, sure enough, went wrong. Relationships, death, the whole shebang. And the world seemed to go crazy along with it. It’s a year we are all going to pay for.

    Like i said, I had to write a nostalgic “teenage” story about the ocean, see blog if interested, to get me out the bogged down rut I was in. It seemed to work for some reason – nostalgia for a more innocent and sunnier time is refreshing, and I wanted to be on the beach “in my mind” – and it gave me an idea that developed into my last 2 or 3 posts. Which strangely enough just seemed to beg to be written.
    Anyway, email me if you want.
    I hope you are good now… and stick around 😉



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