92 the Beach

The Beach

Somehow, we were in paradise.

…read this erotic story in Volume 82 Star Interview

And yet there was the unwritten dress code everyone was sticking to. Dress code was enforced as authoritatively as anything else. Nobody said anything. But infringement was punished with disdain and glare, which produced amazing pressure, even among the extremely freedom-loving types who had gathered here.

So most of the men wore wide surf shorts and some, especially the artisan squad, around Bugs wore shirts to enhance their muscles. And that was it.

The women’s outfits were much more varied. Sal preferred flowing robes where no one wondered what she actually wore underneath. It was not until much later that I should find out this secret. The other women ranged from uncomplicated unisex shirts and shorts combinations to tighter, but still quite comfortable shorts with some daring bikini tops. Essentially, however, it was just here in paradise largely puritanical. And that might be because of the composition. Too many Brits, Australians and Americans. The rest just adapted.

Except Françoise. Notwithstanding that none of the other women were topless, she discarded from day one of our arrival to her bodice and showed her breasts as if there was nothing more natural. She did not make any fuss about it and behaved completely natural. And that made her exactly the only one. A few times she realized that her bare breasts were not quite as well received as she thought. Then she made jokes that we were here in paradise – but otherwise she showed no signs of insecurity.

But the force of habit is great. And after a few days the others contented themselves with commenting on Françoise’s breasts on the quiet with a shrug of their shoulders that she was French. And a few more days later, these cries of naysayers fell completely silent and everybody just accepted that Françoise had bare breasts. What should you do? Who even wanted to do anything about it?


One morning, she might just have her fertile days, or her trip from the evening before had not yet subsided, Françoise did not put on panties either. Which meant that she was not only topless this morning, which she always was, but also bottomless, so she basically wore nothing at all. Completely naked. When I woke up, I saw her walking out of the longhouse. I just saw her butt disappear around the corner. Or was I still asleep…?

Otherwise, the morning routine was actually as usual. We had breakfast more or less together in the main square, after which the dishes were collected and washed and then people just dispersed to pursue their own duties.

Only Françoise seemed to have forgotten something that morning and obviously also did not want to remember what it was. Some exchanged sharp looks again, but nobody said anything, because we were a free and tolerant group, right. And she finally would realize that she violated the rules, right?

No, she didn’t.

…read this erotic story in Volume 82 Star Interview

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