If you are a naturist, the town of Cap d'Agde will be well known to you. It is the mecca for nudism in Europe and its glorious long sandy beach and town on the Mediterranean coast is packed during the long hot summer.
But not being a naturist back then, I was oblivious to its reputation and looking at my Michelin map, it simply looked like a good place for us to aim at. It was mid September twenty years back and my wife and I were driving through France, heading to wherever looked interesting, using the smaller roads rather than the motorways, as we took in the beautiful countryside.
Being September, the holiday peak had passed, the vines were being picked and the sun beat a much more comfortable 80 degrees of heat each day. We had started at the Italian border and driven along the Cote D'Azur, taking in Monaco, Antibe, Cap Ferrat and Arles. Cap d'Agde looked like the next likely target and when we rolled in to a small village close to the beach, a couple of miles away from the main town, it looked idyllic. A small hotel offered decent rates, so we booked ourselves in for a couple of days, intent on doing nothing other than lying on a beach.
The next morning, a path through a camp site brought us to the ocean. Away to the right, I could make out the buildings of the port of Agde through a shimmering heat haze a couple of miles away and it was clear that lots of people planned to also spend their day at the beach.
The camp site meant that the immediate beach was quite crowded, so we walked towards the port, in order to find our own space. We were still unaware of the nudist element, until in the midst of folk wearing swimming costumes, a well honed and very tanned guy of about 24 walked towards us with not a stitch on.
Some English teenage girls collapsed in a fit of giggles at his brazenness and I had to admit that his exhibitionism was pretty exciting -- clearly, he enjoyed parading himself and letting the several hundred gawking people take in his nudity. He was nicely endowed too, so he knew that the glances were admiring ones.
We walked on and began to understand what the beach had to offer -- 200 yards on, everyone was naked. `If you can't beat them, join them' I said to my wife and whipped off my shorts.
The feeling was electric -- very sensuous and very liberating and the touch of warm sun and every part of me was wonderful. My wife remained unconvinced, and we walked on, me naked and her still in a bikini.
At the back of the beach were dunes and we found a spot that allowed us to take in the whole view from a slightly high vantage point. Everywhere I looked, there were naked people, simply enjoying the day and totally unabashed about the lack of clothes.
My wife, while admitting to enjoying the view of so many nude men, was adamant that her clothes were staying on and settled down with her trashy blockbuster novel. I could not relax and wanted to explore, so telling her that I was going for a swim and then a walk, she gave a vague nod and I left her to it.
The freedom of being nude in such a wide open space was great and by the time I got to the sea, the need for some cold water to dampen my rising excitement was very much in need. I kept to a depth where the water was up to just above my pubic hair and continued with my walk, aware that just under the surface, my cock was flag pole stiff!
Ten minutes of some frantic thinking on the dullest of subjects returned me to a more normal state but I got a real kick emerging from the sea, water dripping from my cock and balls, and noticing that several eyes were taking in my thick and swaying manhood.
From the seas edge, I could see beyond the dunes to a large sandy expanse of sand, scrub and bushes, where even more people appeared to be walking. Having come a good mile from my start point, I thought it would make a good round walk and headed for that section to begin my return.
Not having been to a nudist beach before, I did not know that the dunes are where one is most likely to find blatant exhibitionists, lovers and more specifically, members of the gay community en-masse.
It was only when I had climbed the dunes did I spot that every one of the walkers were guys. Pretty soon, I passed several couples walking hand in hand and under a tree, two naked men were engrossed in a deep tonguing kiss. Beyond them, an old fellow -- probably close to 70 was clearly getting very excited at the opportunity to stroke and caress a firm, athletic and well built lad of around 20.
I had not experienced a gay situation before and was instantly very turned on by what I was seeing. My cock started to swell again and I walked along with the bright sunlight playing on its semi erect form.
My walk took me to a spot where there didn't appear to be anyone around and I stopped to consider what I might do next. Unbeknown to me, I had already been spotted and when walking on thick sand without shoes, the stranger who was behind me could not be heard approaching.
The first I knew of his presence was when his hand touched my cock, circling it and giving it a firm rub up and then down. It was a total surprise but felt instantly right and fantastic.
I turned to see a Mediterranean skinned guy of around 30 - naked obviously - giving me an inquisitive look -- he clearly needed to know that I was happy to be approached.
The best answer seemed to be to do the same to him and for the first time in my life, I held a semi hard cock in my hand and watched in fascination as I surveyed his dark purple helmet emerge from the foreskin.
It was the right response and I gasped out loud as he held me once more and gave four or five delicious strokes in the warm sunlight. I lifted a finger to my lips to mime silence and then pointed to the wedding ring on my finger. He nodded quickly and beckoned me to follow him. He clearly knew the area and we were soon off the main and rather public path and hidden behind a large screen of bamboo plants in a small sandy clearing.
He instantly went down on me, taking my cock in to his mouth and noisily sucking my length, swirling his tongue around my head and letting his saliva drip down across my balls. I have never been more aroused and my penis looked like it would burst.
He stopped and again it was clear that it was my turn to return the compliment. Tentatively at first, I bent down and slipped his helmet in to my mouth, giving a swirl of my tongue across its salty tip. He bucked a little and I felt him grow hard in my mouth. Emboldened, I tried to repeat the actions he had worked on me and after a couple of minutes, his hard-on was pointing to the sky. It was satisfying to see and a turn on to realise that it was my touches that had done it.
I needed to cum and needed to unload quickly, I was so excited. Having been in a kneeling position, I leant back on my haunches, so that my back was resting on the sand and my cock and balls were his for the taking. He read my needs instantly and was quick to start wanking me in the sunlight, while running his other hand across my chest, nipples, balls and thighs.
The turn on was amazing and I didn't care who saw what we were doing. It was a total abandon moment as I let myself go in his hands and when I came, great jets of spunk sprayed out over his hand, up my chest, my face, the sand. It wouldn't stop spurting and each time another jet shot out, he murmured ya' gut, ya, das is gut' at my orgasm.
It was the best, the most intense cumming I had ever had and I lay spent in the sand watching as he started to wank himself off, quickly adding his own deposit -- but much less in volume -- to my already wet chest.
He used his towel to wipe me clean and his thorough towelling of my body started to arouse me again as he gently wiped and patted my cock dry in his hand.
I was worried about my wife and again pointing at my wedding ring and wrist watch, I mimed the need to leave. Again he understood and gave me a warm hug and a departing wave.
I was quickly back on to the main beach, around a quarter of a mile from where my wife lay and when I got back she told me with some concern that she had seen several men head off behind the dunes together and was concerned that we should not be there....
Because of that, we didn't return to the beach again and carried on our driving tour the next day.
I'm still married and we have a healthy sex life, but that day on the beach added a new discovery, which I have built on whenever possible. But the memory of that first time will live with me forever and I hope that a German nudist, now 20 years older, might read this and smile at what he did for me all those years ago.