The Nude Beach on Cres

Then I tripped.

I stumbled, and I fell hard, a drunken jet lag fall, a hot sun on my head fall, a fall of maybe 8 to 10 feet. I turned my body to protect the wine bottle from breaking, fool that I am, and my face crashed hard against the concrete pad. My cheekbone and eye socket took the brunt of my 190 pounds falling against concrete. It was bad, worse than I knew at the time. I had smashed my head, my right shoulder and my arm against the concrete slab. Being somewhat drunk kept most of the reality of the injury away. I straightened myself back up and acted as if nothing had happened. One of the gals from the morning asked if I was OK, in English, and I said sure, thanks for asking. I stripped, and after a few minutes I decided to take another swim. Maybe the salt will cleanse my wounds, I thought.

I crept into the water and then swam up the coast line, a little at a time, stopping to look at the nude sunbathers. But every time I stopped, I stepped on another spiny sea urchin. They infested the shoreline. I had to pull the bastards out of my feat, and I had around 50 of their splinters in me in no time. I swam back to where my sunbathing pad and clothes were. As I was climbing out of the water, I stepped on another sea urchin, and I yelled as I cut my foot on a sharp rock. The blond woman who had taken over my morning pad heard my yells and rose up. She came over and extended her arm to me; she pulled me from the water.

"Are you hurt?" she said to me. I looked her in the eye, and then I looked at her.

"A little bit, yes. I am hurt, but thanks for your help. You saw me fall, I guess I need some help," I said.

"You're drunk. You fell down drunk," she said.

"You're right, but I have been worse" I replied, "I'll be OK"

"Sit down and rest" she said.

She lay back, and I stretched out on her concrete pad. She layed next to me. We didn't speak for a while. She welcomed me, we sunbathed and rested as a couple. Maybe twenty minutes past in silence. We lay there nude next to each other, face to face. I studied her. Her body was close to fantastic, her face tremendous, her smile as exciting as any sunrise.

"You are hurt" she said again, "you're bleeding."

I looked down and noticed the many cuts from the rocks, maybe 50 cuts, and my legs were oozing blood from many places. She motioned over toward my clothes, on the slab 15 feet from where we lay.

"Can I get your things for you?" she said.

"I would like more wine," I said, as any drunkard would say.

"Let me get it for you" she replied.

She stood up and climbed to the next pad to pick up the wine and my clothes. I watched her walking nude, carefully stepping to avoid the sharp rocks. She turned around and brought the wine and clothes to me. As she moved, her body flowed gracefully. Her breasts were firm, her stomach was flat, her thighs thin and her fanny was hard and round. Her pubic hair was trimmed, a natural blond. I sat up. To gaze at that woman, nude with the sun and the Adriatic Sea behind her, as she moved up and down on the rocks, it moved my spirit to absolute dreams. She then handed me the wine. I opened the last bottle with my Swiss Army knife - the white wine was hot from sitting in the sun. I began drinking the wine, as I had no glass, like I would a beer, and I shared it with her, passing the bottle back and forth. Suggestively, or so I imagined, she pressed the neck of the wine bottle to her lips and took sips of the liquid coming out of it. We continued to talk.

Her name was Svetlana. She spoke good English, and she was Croatian. I commented that she was very beautiful, and she played it off.

"I have a twenty year old daughter" she explained, "I don't feel so beautiful anymore."

She asked me many questions, she was curious about why I was there. I told her that I was an American on holiday - all the while looking at the sun and sea and the reflections in her eyes. She was a beauty. As I stared at her, she stared at my scrapes and bruises. Then she took my shirt, and walked to the water. She dipped my shirt in the water of the Adriatic Sea. With my wet shirt, she carefully wiped my battered face. She wiped my arms, my chest, slowly wiping the wounds from my fall. In a daze and with a concussion, I felt as if I was Jesus Christ, in one of the Stations of the Cross, having his face wiped by Veronica. She proceeded down my body, washing my cock and my balls, wiping the cuts on my legs, my feet, playing close attention to me, wiping the blood away.

"That feels very good" I said to her, "very good."

I leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. "Thank you for helping me," I said.

Then it was my turn. I touched her shoulders, her breasts and her back, massaging her body. I was on my knees, scraping my knees on the concrete. She turned on her stomach. The same couple, the young couple from the morning, were still laying on the next pad over. Apparently they had been there all day. They watched me as I massaged her. We were all nude, and they watched my hands run the length of Svetlana's body. I was leaning over her, on my knees, rubbing up and down her thighs. At that moment, her face was close to my penis, so close, while I ran my hands back up her buttocks. She turned over and looked me straight on.

"I am married," she said.

"That's all right," I replied.

That was hard for me to say, but true. I wasn't going to have sex on that concrete pad, in plain view of so many people. Even I am not that bold - especially with a woman who announces she is married. Hell, I was ecstatic that this beauty would even speak to me, let alone touch me and allow me to touch her. I stopped the massaging and I lay back down next to her. Another twenty minutes past, as we lay, side by side, arm in arm..

She remained on her side and I lay facing her. Our bodies were only inches apart, and we spoke softly as if we were lovers stretched out on a bed, with the sea at our feet. The sun began setting, and the colors of a clear sunset began to highlight the western sky. It was as perfect a moment in time as I have experienced. Even without intercourse, those moments were some of the most intimate encounters I have known.

We lay there for as long as we could. The sun was sinking into the Adriatic Sea. The nearby attractive young couple stood up, and they showed their nudity one last time. I watched as they put on their clothes. Then they came up to us and each said, "thank you, goodbye." And I quickly thanked them in return. What a show they had put on for me in the morning, and I was pleased that they were able to be with us in the afternoon. Svetlana and I lay there alone, we were the last couple on the beach. Then she said that she had to return to her husband.

"Please meet me here tomorrow" I said, "at 1:00 o'clock."

"OK" she said, "I will see you here tomorrow."

We put our clothes back on, myself my bathing suit and my sandals. I wrapped the blood soaked shirt around my neck. She put on a gold bikini, and pulled a pair of jean cut offs over her bottom. Squeezing her hand, I gave her a quick kiss. I turned, and I walked away. There was no looking back, I didn't know it, should have known it but didn't. I should have known that I would never see her again.