Nude Beach Idylls -- The Elfin Girl

Happy New Year! In a change of gear from Caroline's Naked Ride and Naked Student Tales (the first four of which are now out), here is a lighter offering I've been working on. K.

© 2016 by Kelsey d'Eligny. All rights reserved.

A man I met once on nude a beach north of San Francisco told me I reminded him of his daughter. It seemed a genuinely friendly remark and not a come-on line, so I asked him how long he'd been coming to that beach, which I'd only just discovered. He said it was a long story.

"I've got all day," I said. He smiled and began to tell me, and we ended up talking for hours about how things used to be different ...

* * *

Back in the early 1980s, the hippies were long gone and the unabashed millennials were not a gleam in their parents' eyes. Good cameras were clunky, noisy contraptions seldom seen at the beach. In those days, those who stripped bare at the beach did so confident that no one would see them but their immediate neighbours on the sand. It meant something else to be naked on the beach from what it might have meant a generation before or what it might mean today.

It was a different time, when public figures and respectable people did not have children out of wedlock and sex was not much mentioned in polite company. San Francisco was not at all a socially conservative place, and it was surrounded by a number of predominantly gay nude beaches, but there were still more that catered to a straight crowd -- individuals, couples and families. Children played in the sand and couples walked calmly into the water, safe from any thoughts that their photographs might be instantly published around the globe.

Edward had recently discovered this lovely, sandy beach north of the city in Marin County on a visit with some buddies to the adjoining, larger 'textile' beach. He saw people gathered in the distance across some rocks and went on his own to investigate. When he was greeted with the sight of several dozen beachgoers, stark naked, Edward stared in amazement. He sat on the sand, unnoticed by the predominantly young, frolicking crowd, but after ten minutes he felt awkward being the only one in a bathing suit.

His heart raced and his cheeks flushed as he cautiously undid the tie of his trunks. Then, still sitting, he inched them down and off. He burned with self-consciousness for a few minutes, but eventually he noticed that still no one paid him any attention. Then, a couple not much older than he came up out of the water and walked to their towels. As they strode past him, they both said, 'Hi' in a friendly manner, and he nervously reciprocated.

"How's the water?" he asked, noticing the droplets all over the naked woman's body.

"Cold, but fine. You should go in for a dip," she said, continuing on their way. Edward could not remember ever being greeted or having even so short a conversation with a stranger on a 'normal' beach. He realised at once that this place was special.

He did indeed go in for a dip in the bracing water and then stretched out on the sand. He had exchanged friendly greetings with several more naked people and grown completely comfortable by the time his friends wondered where he was and came to look for him an hour later. They laughed when they saw him and thought he was crazy, but Edward had already decided by then that he would return to this beach.

After his second visit, he no longer even brought his swimsuit with him. He had got to know several of the regulars by sight and was beginning to be recognized himself. He was now accustomed to chatting casually with others, and the tanned and fit naked women were not aloof and wary like their counterparts on 'textile' beaches. He was careful not to stare, but he could not help stealing fleeting glances at the parts that would have been covered by a bikini and vaguely making out what lay behind the standard growth of bush. He felt guilty looking, but he had never had such a chance to see women naked. In those days, that opportunity was usually only presented in certain magazines or strip clubs.

He and his buddies had tried out of curiosity to get into a strip club once, but they were not yet twenty-one and were turned away. The place looked very seedy and unpleasant in any event. The beach, though, seemed like paradise.

* * *

As he talked, I reached down absentmindedly and brushed some sand from my bush. He reacted strangely somehow, and I said, "What is it? Does your daughter not have pubic hair?"

"I have no idea," he replied. "She hasn't wanted to go to a nude beach since she was a child -- too afraid of showing up on some photo website."

I laughed and explained that had never worried me. "There are so many such photos online, the odds of being recognised by someone who knows me (as if that really matters) are pretty slim."

"I guess so," he agreed. "But anyway, it wasn't my daughter I was thinking of but someone else ..."

* * *

THE ELFIN GIRL

One day, Edward was looking for shells and good skipping-stones at the back of the sand, as he often did at that beach, and it was there that the elfin girl of no more than twenty-two appeared on a similar mission. She walked on long, trim legs supporting an equally long, graceful torso. She was taller than Edward and in clothes might have given the impression of a bean pole or a boy, but naked her small but perfectly-shaped breasts and the gentle flare of her hips left no doubt of her sex. Her skin was ashen pale -- it was obvious she was not a regular at this or any other beach -- but despite the edgy, punkish impression given by her short, spiky hair, it showed the softness of her youth.

What stood out the most, though, was something else. The hair on her head was bleached nearly white and cut in a short, punkish style, and it was the only hair on her body.

Everyone had pubic hair then, and it was never groomed beyond a little trimming at the edges where a bikini might be worn at a different beach. No one else past the age of puberty looked like that, but even with her bare sex she would not have been mistaken for a young girl. The faint razor stubble made that clear, but so did the prominent features of her mature if youthful vulva. The absence of any fat on her still delicately curved body meant her labia were not hidden between any pudgy outer lips, and Edward could see the soft, pink skin of her clitoral hood and below it the sinuous curves of the delicate pink folds of her inner labia peeking out along her cleft --none of it hidden by hair as it was for all the other women there that day or any of the few others Edward had ever seen.

He was surprised and delighted to see her crouch nearby on her haunches to search for shells and sea-polished stones in the sand. Trying not to stare, he nonetheless could not help looking at this remarkable sight, virtually unheard of in those days. The girl did not try to hide anything and took no notice of Edward' gaze. In her crouched position all of her hairless vulva was even more evident, and peeking out between the white flesh of her outer lips he saw the two pink tips of her inner lips, like wings.

Wings! That was it. Edward suddenly thought if he were to sketch her, he would add long, diaphanous wings between her slender shoulder-blades, like a Victorian fairy painting -- he could almost picture one of a similar type stretching her toe at the end of a long, slender leg into a forest stream.

But the wings Edward actually saw were not between her shoulder-blades but her legs. Were such fleshy, mature sexual organs appropriate for a fairy? Did immortal creatures need to procreate? Then he remembered -- of course the fairies of traditional legend (long before Walt Disney) were well-known for their wild abandonment in pursuit of sexual pleasure -- uninhibited by petty human morality. He gazed again at this live fairy's sex in a new light, thinking they suited her in every way. The long, vertical lines of her nether lips continued and accentuated the long, elegant lines of her graceful shins and thighs and tied them visually to her long, delicate torso. And then there were the wings. The wings! Edward's heart took flight.

She saw him looking and said, "Hello," with a friendly smile. He returned the greeting but his mind flooded and he was at loss for any other words. Finally, noting her lack of any tan whatsoever, he asked if it was her first time at that beach.

"Yes," she replied with a disarming smile, looking up at him with her vivid blue eyes. "My boyfriend is doing a photo shoot on the other beach, so I tagged along." The mention of a boyfriend was actually a relief to Edward, as it meant he would not be seen to be chatting her up for prurient reasons.

"You mean the clothed beach?" said Edward, gesturing across the rocks. She nodded. "So what brought you to this side?"

"Someone else on the shoot told me about it and I thought it sounded fun," she replied. She said it as if it were totally unremarkable, and she was completely unself-conscious. She chatted away with Edward for some time as they squatted side-by-side hunting for shells. This gave Edward an extended close-up view of her most remarkable, hairless feature. As enticing as the rest of her body was, it was her vulva that most captivated Edward. The absence of hair meant that all the elusive folds he was accustomed (on rare occasions) to finding his way awkwardly around in poor light were exposed for all to see. He wanted to explore every bit of it with his eyes, knowing that he could not possibly do so with his fingers or tongue.

If she had not mentioned a boyfriend, Edward might have mistaken her unabashed posture as a sexual invitation, but everything about her demeanour made it clear she intended no such thing. She was warm and inviting, but there was no suggestion that she saw being naked on a beach -- even if it was her first time -- as having any sexual overtones at all. My god, her boyfriend must be a lucky man, thought Edward, unable to ignore the rippling creases in her tummy, accentuating its flatness, between her comely breasts and hairless sex. But for her height, she had the body of a gymnast and Edward could not help imagine it entwined around a man's in ecstasy.

Then he realised his own posture was almost as revealing as hers and that she was not shy either about glancing at his genitals -- without showing either shock or prurient interest. Her eager, wide eyes were simply soaking in all there was to see, from bright, interesting shells to naked bodies. Her keen attentiveness bespoke youth as much as the appearance of her body. As she stood, her breasts vibrated -- not so much jiggling as springing back. It was the same with her buttocks as she walked away from Edward. He thought she was leaving, but after a few steps she stopped and turned to face him.

"You don't have a joint, do you?" she asked. Edward shook his head. Her response showed it didn't matter much. She didn't need any aids to enjoy the setting and the sensation. "How's the water?" she asked in the same tone, suggesting one sensuous pleasure was a good as the other.

"Usually bracing," he replied. "But I haven't been in today."

"Let's try it, then."

Edward followed her to the water's edge. They stopped not much more than ankle-deep, halted for a moment by the cold water. She bent to gather water in her hands and then splashed it across her chest. She shuddered at the shock, but then she ran forward, throwing herself into an oncoming wave and disappearing under the water for a second. When she resurfaced, her wet hair looked even spikier after she quickly shook the water out.

Edward followed her, but more slowly. He knew it would be less traumatic to get it all over with, but he always tried to forestall the moment the cold water first touched his testicles. He could only do it by walking out just far enough that the rising swell would inevitably engulf them but without his own deliberate action.

The first two times, he winced as his scrotum tightened, but then it was easier. He splashed out further to join the elfin girl, now treading water and beaming. "This is great"" she cried. She spread her arms -- like wings? -- and tried to float on her back, but her lean body was not quite buoyant enough. It stayed a few inches under the surface, visible through the rippling water only as a shifting, twisting form, adding to the ethereal effect.

They swam for ten minutes, but that was usually the limit in northern California at that time of year, so they headed back in. "It's going to be cold," she said, "and I don't have a towel."

"You can borrow mine," offered Edward. He swam on ahead to get it. After shaking it as free from sand as he could, he turned to see her just emerging from the sea, the water sheeting down her pale body. It ran down her chest, funnelled into the Y-shape of her groin, most then running down her thighs from there but a noticeable amount running straight over her lower lips, whose undulating curves and bumps sprinkled it into the wind. The gush slowed first to a brief steady, thin flow followed by a stream of droplets falling directly from her nether wings.

She shivered and crossed her arms, but under her breasts rather than across them. She was only warming herself, not hiding. Edward ran to meet her with his beach towel, but she declined.

"I don't want to get your towel all wet," she said, "but it looks big enough for two. I'll just dry off in the sun."

Edward's towel was indeed wide enough for two to lie side-by-side, but only just. One of her turned-out feet touched his, and her elbow touched his forearm as she nested her head in her crossed hands. Edward supported his upper torso on his elbows, and before he lay down completely he could not help glancing again at her body. The cold water had given her pale skin the faintest blue tinge, accentuating her fairy-like appearance and also highlighting the faint rosiness of her labia, which seemed the only colouring on her body apart from her eyes and areolae. Every inch of her skin -- and he looked at every inch -- was goose-pimpled and covered with little water droplets. Her breasts hardly flattened but were now capped with tightly puckered areolae and tightly pointed nipples. Her eyes were closed and she smiled peacefully.

He studied her face a moment, taking advantage of her closed eyes. Her features were not beautiful. Neither were they unpretty, but like her elongated body her face seemed composed of slightly unusual proportions -- her lips a bit too full, her nose a bit too long and slightly hooked -- but, again like her body, it all seemed to work together naturally. She was a creature like no other.

Edward lay silently beside her and tried to figure her out. One thing he had noticed on the nude beach was that without any clothes, people gave no external signs of their place in the world. He had chatted freely with people without knowing whether they were doctors or lawyers, garbage men, waitresses or shoolteachers. He didn't know unless the subject came up what their political or social views were likely to be. Edward had no aversion to mingling with people from other walks of life, but he often felt awkward with people who dressed differently. This was not due to snobbishness or giving any weight to fashion, but to fearing he would not know what to say to someone whose clothes suggested a very different background or likely topics of interest. Edward felt none of that at the beach and found it easy to converse with total strangers.

It was the same with this girl. Without any clothes, Edward could not even be sure of his original impression of punkishness. Her spiky, short bleached hair was the only clue, but the few punks Edward had met, mostly in school, tended to go about with angry, disaffected expressions and bizarrely dyed hair or such outlandish things as more than one ear piercing, which she did not. (Edward had certainly never heard of anything like a nipple or genital piercing in those days and had never seen one at the beach.)

Edward found it hard to picture this beautiful, delicate creature with a sunny disposition wearing a studded leather jacket -- frankly, he still found more plausible to imagine her with fairy wings -- but he hadn't seen her arrive or undress. As she chatted warmly with him and others around, he questioned whether 'punk' was the right word for her style at all. No, he thought -- the shocking white, spiky hair could just as well belong to a pixie. Either way, her unusual hair and total ease with her nudity, despite seeming to be naked on the beach for the first time, told him she was not like the girls he knew.

Thinking yet again about the mischievous sexuality of fairies in traditional myth, he could not help wondering whether she was as open about sex as she was about being naked. Sex still seemed like something the girls he knew only reluctantly permitted after protracted negotiation and game-playing, and he was not very experienced at either. If she didn't have a boyfriend, might he stand a chance with her? She was different from him, but it didn't seem to matter to her -- at least in casual conversation. Nor did it seem to matter to her that they were both naked. She showed no sign of great interest or curiosity in his body among all the others, and he imagined that she was not as unaccustomed to seeing men naked as he was with women. She also did not seem to mind letting him see her, and he could not help gazing with awe at her lovely, naked form.

How could one person simultaneously exude ethereal sexuality and innocence, supple youthfulness and exotic edginess?

She did not stay long -- just enough for the sun's rays to dry her skin and return its normal, pale hue. Then she thanked him for the use of his towel and flitted off down the beach in search of new wonders, little suspecting how vividly she would still be remembered decades later.

* * *

"Wow! That's beautiful. I suppose you're going to tell me you married her?" I asked, only half joking.

"No, I never saw her again," he said, wistfully. "I did meet my wife here, but not until many years later. That's another story altogether."

TO BE CONTINUED SOMEDAY