Law Enforcement

"Come and look at this," Sophie called.

I was busy loading our camper van. Sophie had set out everything she wanted us to bring, and it was her coffee break, doing some last minute browsing for campsites and places to visit. I put down the box of groceries I was about to load, kissed the top of my wife's beautiful blonde head, and checked the screen of her laptop to see what she had called me over for.

Sophie had paused what looked like some kind of trailer. A girl was walking down a sunlit shopping street. It looked like a European city. Most people were in jeans and tops, or dresses. It seemed like late spring or summer. The sun was high and the street was half in shade. What had made Sophie call me over was the girl. She was blonde, like Sophie, and she was naked. When Sophie clicked, the girl started walking again, glancing at the people around her, giving the occasional half smile, clearly feeling daring but embarrassed both at once.

As if she needed to explain, Sophie said that she had been looking for naturist resorts. A web-site had shown up, nude in public, and she had been curious. What we were looking at was the site's trailer. It cut from the blonde in the street to another girl in a park, with an impressive building in the background, and then another girl. It seemed like they had filmed girls in parks, cities, including one named as Budapest, in the countryside, wherever but always naked, and walking as if being naked in public was the most natural thing in the world.

"Would it turn you on?" Sophie asked.

We were on the autoroute du sud, more than halfway through France, at a steady seventy miles an hour, and I was watching the traffic, lots of cars laden for holidays, many of them impatient to reach their destination. I was staying in the slow lane, letting them overtake. In a camper van you learn not to be impatient. You will always get there in the end.

"Would what turn me on?" I asked her.

"If I went nude in public," Sophie grinned.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. Then paused.

"But if I did, I mean, hypothetically," she said. "Would it turn you on?"

This was my wife asking me. She was thirty two. The girls in the trailer had been at most a couple of years either side of twenty. Their figures were pretty good, but then so is Sophie's. She keeps herself slim, her waist is trim, and she has neat breasts, not over endowed, but shapely, with unusual areoles that sit slightly proud, enticing mounds of pink that invite you to touch, or kiss, or suck on them, drawing them right inside your mouth.

I kept driving, thinking about what she was asking me, and why. Hypothetically. A big theoretical word for an interesting scenario.

It was not as if either of us was strangers to nudity. Even before we married, we were enjoying holidays together on France's naturist beaches. Then we tried out naturist campsites, not just lying on the sand naked, but getting up naked, having breakfast naked, going to the camp-site shop naked, doing everything naked. Some even had open shower areas in their washrooms. That was why Sophie had been checking out places to go. We enjoyed the lifestyle.

Just the same, being naked in public is slightly different. What the girls on the trailer had been doing was not at naturist campsites. It was in ordinary parks, gardens, streets, squares, filling stations, tram stops, with everyone else around them just getting on with their day to day lives, heads turning at the naked girl walking through.

And for Sophie, being naked would mean revealing more than most of the girls featured on the trailer. They may have been totally naked, but Sophie wears a ring.

Actually, Sophie wears two rings.

We both wear the traditional wedding rings that we exchanged when we were married. They are a matching pair, in gold, with bevelled edges. Sophie also wears another ring that you can only see when she naked, because it is set through her labia, and since she regularly depilates, the ring is not exactly hidden. Labial piercings are not that uncommon in the naturist community, and Sophie had hers done four years ago, after a conversation a campsite neighbour who already wore one, and who was talking up the way that it enhanced her sexual enjoyment.

So Sophie being naked in a public place would be pretty daring, and if there was an possibility the Sophie's question was more than hypothetical, I was not about to discourage her. Yes, it was a turn on. But I took care not to seem too keen. It just might put her off.

"It could be amusing," I said, not taking my eyes off the road.

"Just amusing?" Sophie asked.

"No," I said. "Not just amusing."

Now I took my eyes off the road, and gave my wife a look. I did not say the words, but she knew that I was gently daring her.

We do not always head straight for the beach. Once you are far enough south the sun is hot, and there are beautiful places you can explore that are more countryside than coast. We had parked up at a river. The parking area was at one side of a village, and there was a pathway you could walk along the river which curved gently between low hills, and allowed everyone who went there to find their own space for sunbathing and picnicking.

It was not naturist, but find a quiet location, and no one really minds. We spent an afternoon helping our tans along, the first real exposure of the holiday, still on Factor 30, especially the more sensitive nits and pieces. We had read a little, dozed a little, eaten a little and drunk a little, only soft drinks in the daytime, nothing alcoholic, nothing to make Sophie particularly daring.

Around five, we decided to pack up. I put on my shorts and tee shirt and helped Sophie to pack our things into the backpack we had brought. Sophie was still squatting naked and everything was packed away, apart from her own shorts, clingy teeshirt, and her sandals. She picked up her clothes and tucked them in the back pack. Then her sandals. Then she stood.

"You go ahead," she said.

She was barefoot on a hard earth track, looking up at me, slightly nervously, but I did not argue. I picked up the back pack, put it over one shoulder, appreciating it being lighter from our drinking at least a litre each, took her by the arm and kissed her. Then I started down the track, back towards the parking area twenty minutes' walk away.

I checked back from time to time. Sophie started following when I was maybe a hundred yards ahead. No one was in sight, but that did not mean that no one would appear. And someone did.

It was just a guy, in his forties, out with his dog, a black and brown alsation that was off the lead and roaming. The guy was in baggy trousers and a shirt, and greeted me with a pleasant "bonsoir" as we passed each other.

I checked back.

The dog got to Sophie first, sniffing around her legs as she continued walking. The guy called the dog by name, and it trotted back to him. A moment later the guy together with his dog passed Sophie. She had hesitated. Just walked on, casually, as natural as anything. And that was where it got to me. A total stranger had just seen my wife nude, her breasts, with those cute mounds of pink areaoles, her hairless sex, protruding labia, and wedding ring sized gold piercing. My cock reacted, but like Sophie, I walked on.

Round a curve in the path, a couple in their twenties were lying on a rug, her head on his arm. I glanced at them as I passed. He kind of nodded. She smiled. They did not know it, but they were about to have my wife pass by as well.

Then a couple of cyclists, him and her, both in lycra shorts and tops, racing bikes with multiple gears and cables, using their bell to warn me they were coming, using it again to warn Sophie, three times more to express their appreciation or their disapproval.

Then I was back at the parking area, only half a dozen other vehicles there, one of them an open sided van selling drinks and ices. Just beyond the parking area, there were cultivated gardens with a concrete walkway along the river front by the village. People were walking, sitting, paying. Three people were queuing at the van, what seemed to be a couple, and a guy on his own.

I walked to our campervan, unlocked it, put the back pack inside the door behind my seat, and waited for my wife. She walked down the track, across the parking area, and joined me.

"Fancy a drink?" I asked.

Sophie looked at the van, and the short queue.

"Okay," she said.

I gave her ten euros, and she walked across.

At six it was still light. The curtains were drawn but the light still came in. It was a different car park, ten minutes' drive away. That was as far as we had got.

I love it when Sophie is wet for me already.

My cock slid inside her, all the way, as she reached up to draw me down, grinning up at me.

"Impressed?" she asked.

"Maybe," was as much as I would concede.

I started thrusting, enjoying her deliciously tight pussy. She pushed up with her buttocks each time I thrust into her, grinding herself against me.

She started doing that soon after getting pierced. The ring is set so that it grazes her clit. She tells me she gets nice sensations just from walking. When the ring gets compressed between our bodies, it stimulates her even more. She never had difficulties coming to her climax, but the ring has made it even easier, and I have never minded the unfairness that she can come several times before I do. I love giving her that enjoyment.

"The guy with the dog," Sophie said, "took a really good look."

I was still thrusting, nice and steady, and she was still meeting each thrust.

"I bet he did," I said.

"I thought the dog might sniff me."

I do not often laugh when I am making love, but I did then, picturing the alsation putting its nose up close. Sophie's reaction might have been amusing, jumping away.

Her reaction to my laugh was amusing at least.

"Bastard!" she exclaimed. Then, "Fuck me harder!"

I did as she asked. My next thrust slammed into her and ended with my grinding myself against her, screwing her pussy with my cock as I did so.

She gasped.

I withdrew slowly, right the way until just the last half inch of my cock was still inside her. Them I slammed deep inside again.

I know my wife. I know how she likes to be fucked. She has always enjoyed gentle slow love making, following by hard, animal sex. What was different was how soon she wanted me to fuck her hard. What was also different was that it only took four of those thrusts before she climaxed, shuddering and screaming, digging her nails into my back so that I had to grab her arms and pin her to the camper bed. I wondered if anyone outside would be hearing what was going on, but did not care.

I waited, still deep inside her, while she slowly came down. Then I withdrew, and turned her over. Cooperating, she got on her knees. I slid inside her again, and started thrusting second time around.

"So you enjoyed showing yourself off, did you?" I said.

She was making little grunting noises with each thrust, but in between them I heard a "Yes".

"Did it make you wet?"

More grunts and gasps, and another "Yes".

"And you'll be doing it again?"

She managed a whole speech.

"That feels so good,... Just fuck me,... Yesssss,..."

I love fucking Sophie from behind.

As I said, Sophie is slim. She has a great butt, slender legs, narrow waist, and thin arms that can only support her upper body for so long, and not when she uses one hand to touch herself. She reached underneath, and I felt her fingertips at my shaft while I fucked her, as they sought her clit, and her ring. She loves that ring.

Her other arm gave way.

Her head turned to one side and her shoulders pushed into the mattress and I continued fucking her, one leg kneeling between her legs, the other bent, foot flat, to give me stability and leverage, looking down at the slope of her back, every one of her vertebrae showing, her shoulder blades and rib-cage defined. Thirty two with the body of a twenty year old, angelic blonde hair spread out on the mattress like a halo, and her pussy offered up for me to fuck.

Whether it was my fucking, or her playing, Sophie came a second time.

Her legs gave out as she spasmed, and she lowered herself to the bed. I went down with her, lying on her, my cock still deep inside her. Her buttocks and pussy continued spasming, and sent delicious feeling through my cock. Something inside her was doing nice things against the head of my cock, things that mean I love it when my wife comes. I get an incredible reward as payback.

Slowly, her spasms subsided.

I eased back, turning her onto her side, lifting one leg so that I could draw her uppermost leg up towards her chest, knee folded against her breast.

Now my legs were on either side of her leg, my cock head just inside her pussy. I moved up her body, getting my cock deep again. With one hand close to her back, I supported my upper body. With the other, I reached for her breast, cupping her areola, thumbing it, the centre that never really becomes an erect nipple, nevertheless firm under my touch.

I was moving softly, no more than a couple of inches either way, but thrusting, and since she was on her side, my inner thigh was now pressed against her labia, her clit, her ring.

Sophie lay with her mouth slightly open, moaning.

It is a beautiful way to fuck. The sensations are similar to from behind, but I can see her body better, her breasts, her face. I feel closer to her. This is my ever so beautiful and daring wife, whose perfect pussy is shaved and pierced, who is wet and warm and tight, and whose inner surfaces pull just enough on my shaft and graze so gently but so wonderfully on the tight skin of my cock head, as I slide back and forth inside her that soon my come is travelling like ecstasy through that shaft and deep into her, and she is shuddering again with her own climax.

Afterwards, we held each other, revelling on the aftermath of our lovemaking.

"You really liked me being naked!" Sophie exclaimed.

"That makes two of us."

She kissed my shoulder.

"Time to go?" she asked.

We had a campsite forty kilometres away that we were aiming for to spend the night, after an evening meal.

Sophie got up first, passing me my shorts and teeshirt. I slipped them on and climbed into the driver's seat. Sophie followed, into the passenger seat, and clipped on her seat belt. I turned on the ignition, released the brake, and eased out of the car park, waiting at the entrance for a German camper van to come in before I exited.

The German driver glanced into our cab. In France, Sophie, sitting on the left of our British camper, is in what drivers there think of as the driver's seat. The guy saw her sitting, seat belt across and between her naked breasts, her bare feet on the front glove compartment, and he grinned.

That twenty minute walk by the river was the first time that Sophie risked being naked, not on a naturist beach or camp-site, but somewhere that no one else was naked except for her. It was not the last. During our holiday, she became increasingly daring. Describing each occasion would be excessive, but over our three week break Sophie was naked in a public area at least once each day.

Sophie started to ride totally naked in the passenger seat of our camper van, deciding whether to slip on a pair of shorts and teeshirt depending on where we were, and how daring she felt. She walked along a number of paths and tracks, including a two hour walk in low Alpes, totally naked. In one village, she got out of our camper van, went to the boulangerie, and bought our morning croissants, totally naked. In other villages, she strolled with her camera, taking photographs, and also being photographed. More than once, when we needed more diesel, Sophie filled the tank, and then went to pay at the kiosk or autoroute shop, again totally naked.

In one town, where Sophie had decided to wear her shorts and teeshirt, we found a square with a fountain in the centre, and several cafes and restaurants with al fresco seating areas under trees, with maybe twenty people sitting drinking or eating at one or other of them. I felt Sophie let go of my hand as we turned into the square, and turned to see her walk into a small alley.

A few minutes later Sophie walked out, totally naked, with no sign of her shorts or tee shirt, and carrying only her shoulder bag. Ignoring me, she strolled around the fountain, then took a seat at one of the cafes, where she was served a cappuccino, drinking it while the waiter stood chatting with her. When she had finished, she left, returned to the alley, and emerged again in her shorts and tee shirt. She told me later she had just rolled them up and set them on a window ledge, taking the risk that they might not be there when she got back. If they had been taken, it would have been a ten minute walk through the town to where we had parked our camper van.

I have to admit to having been fascinated, discovering how much Sophie seemed to enjoy these displays, not to mention taking full advantage of the fact that she clearly became aroused when she was daring to bare all.

Each time, we would find somewhere to park up soon afterwards, and we would fuck like rabbits, even more so on the occasions when someone spoke to Sophie, or as happened much more frequently, took her photograph with their camera or their phone. Where possible, we found quiet places where we could spread out a picnic rug, and fuck outside. If not, we used the back of the van. Either way, Sophie was always wet for me after one of these episodes, and she never failed to come to climax soon after I started fucking her.

It was one of the last few days of our holiday that we visited Avignon. We had been there before, but we love the atmosphere and decided to visit again. Because we were in a camper van, we had to park outside the medieval city walls.

Sophie had been riding naked, and I assumed that she would slip something on before we headed into the town. Instead she checked her shoulder bag for money and asked if I would pick her up at a small car park we had used on our previous visit just inside the walls, at the other side of the town. We could not leave the camper van there, but I risk stopping long enough to pick up Sophie.

I checked with Sophie, whether she was sure. This was no small town or village. It was a twenty minute walk along a busy shopping street to the a large square outside the ancient Popes' Palace, or the Palais du Papes, and the cathedral, then there were steps up to gardens which had to be crossed to access another set of steps down to the second car park.

"If they can do it in Budapest,..." Sophie answered. I did not argue.

We did agree that I would follow Sophie at a distance, with her clothes in my back pack, just case she needed them. When she reached the gardens I would head back for the camper van and drive round to pick her up, which is exactly what I did. What neither of us anticipated was how Sophie would arrive.

I was seriously impressed when Sophie climbed down from the van, and walked from the parking area turning into the nearby entrance to the old walled city. By this stage in our holiday, Sophie was tanned to a delightful golden brown. Watching her, as I got out and locked the van, I loved her daring, but was still apprehensive that she was going to walk through such a busy town and major tourist attraction, naked, barefoot, and carrying only her shoulder bag.

I followed Sophie about twenty feet behind her. She seemed totally confident, strolling ahead on what is Avignon's main shopping street, even doing some window shopping, whether to look at the displays or catch her own reflection, I am not sure.

She certainly received plenty of interested looks, mostly admiring, although some disapproving, and at one point a group of three men stopped her and spoke to her. I held back. Sophie seemed comfortable with it, and after a few minutes they let her walk on. Later she told me they had just been interested in why she was walking naked, why she was wearing her 'other' ring, and then had just wished her good luck.