If you drove north along the ocean-front road to where the road left the foreshore and headed inland, you would be at my favorite beach. Park where you can and head down to the beach and start walking north, along the soft white sand, past the concession and the surf-lifesaving club, and you soon come to the end of the area clearly marked with signs:

Those signs are replaced with others which state:

At this point you will start to see numerous sunbathers and others, quite naked, with the occasional clothed persons scattered among them, either oblivious to the nudity, or just there to gawk. These signs are repeated at intervals.

Quite a bit further along, there is another sign, which reads, likes the previous ones:

PUBLIC BEACH: CLOTHING OPTIONAL, but with MEN ONLY! scrawled underneath with spray paint.

This is the start of the unofficial gay part of the beach. Any straight guys who come here and start looking for trouble are sure to get it. The gays will quickly dispatch the trouble-makers, even helped by members of the surf-lifesaving club.

Further to the north there is a final sign which warns that no lifesavers are in attendance beyond this point. And beyond that point, and in the sandhills which back the beach, anything goes. You dont have to walk far to come across some sucking or fucking, in twosomes, threesomes, foursomes, or moresomes!

But I had not come here for sex or even for cock-watching on this day two years ago. I just wanted to swim a little and relax in the sun on this warm, but mild early summer day, with just a light off-shore breeze blowing, and the sea as flat as glass and just a little sea-surge by the shore, slapping up on the white sands.

I chose a spot just beyond the end of the mixed nude beach in the "MEN ONLY" section, and dropped my pants and my other gear in a heap on the warm white sand. I was a little hot from the drive here and the walk along the beach to find a spot, so I opted to go in for a dip first off.

I ran down the beach, my dick swinging free, and took a running dive into the water. The sandy seabed dropped off quickly from the shore, and coming up from my dive, I stood and found myself in about three feet of water. I stood there waist deep in the sea, enjoying the cool surge of water around my cock and balls as the small, gentle waves passed in and out. It was still early in the season, and the water hadn't warmed up much yet, so I was one of the few souls hardy enough to actually go in to the water.

From there, I got a good view of the other sunbathers on the beach. It was not at all crowded on this mild weekday as it would be on a hot weekend day, but it was still dotted with sunbathers, both singles and couples, and even families, with more in the mixed nude area than in the self-appointed "MEN ONLY" area, and even far more back down the beach where no nudity was allowed.

While I stood there in the cool water, the sun warming my back, I notice a trio of fully dressed people, obviously a man and his wife and their teen-aged son. The father appeared to be about thirty-five or thirty-six - about ten years older than myself; and the son was probably fifteen or sixteen - about ten years younger than myself. When then found a spot in the mixed nudity area, but quite close to mine in the "Men Only" area, the father screwed the pole of their beach umbrella into the sand and popped it open. They dumped their gear and settled in for the afternoon. Even though it was a nude beach, they did not strip completely, only down to their bathing suits, which all three wore under their street clothes.

I did not think this was odd. Many non-nudists used the nude beach. It was usually less crowded than the main beach.

I did notice that the boy pulled down his bathing suit, flashing his ample dick and tight round behind for all to see, and was about to step out of it, when his father said something to him, and the boy reluctantly pulled the suit back up again.

The wife said something to her husband, possibly telling him to leave the kid do as he wished, but the father was adamant. The kid stayed clothed. I could bet you the father had said something about pervert queers or the like.

I turned my attention to other things and did a few dolphin-dives in the shallow water. I even did a handstand in the water, but when I realized that my goodies were waving in the open air above water, I promptly turned myself right-side-up.

It was when I jogged up the beach to get my towel and swab down a little that the problem began.

"Hey, cover it up, mate! I've got me wife and kid right here!" It was the man I had oberved arriving with his family yelling at me from only a few feet away. The hostility in his voice was plain, and it drew the eyes of several other nude sunbathers nearby.

"What's your problem?" I asked. "This is a nude beach, in case you hadn't noticed. Most of the others here are nude also."

"Yeah," he smarled, "but at least they're a little discreet about it, not wavin' their wangs all over like you're doin'."

He got my back up right away.

"if you don't like it, don't look. Go back to the main beach where you belong," I told him.

"You can't tell me where I belong!" he roared. "This is a public beach. It's not reserved for just you poofters! Bloody fags! Think you own the world not you got a few rights."

"Bert, love, let it be," pleaded his wife. "People are looking at us."

"Let 'em look!" Bert exclaimed. "I have a right to protect my son from pedophiles!"

"Dad!" cried his son, who obviously had heard the word before, probably from Bert warning him against them.

But it raised my hackles at his suggestion that I was one of them. I was about ready to smack the guy in the mouth when the lifeguard on duty, who had shed his conventional yellow and orange outer gear, and was showing his stuff in his utra-brief Speedos, clambered down from his high wooden perch and intervened, strutting over the warm sand to us.

"Settle down and leave this man alone," he cautioned Bert, "or I'll have to ask you and your family to leave this area of the beach."

"I have my rights," insisted Bert.

"And so does this gentleman. Stop harrassing him, or you're out!" the handsome (and hung) young lifeguard in his minikini Speedo cautioned.

Grumbling, Bert turned away from me and from the lifegaurd. But I did notice that he snuck a lingering look at the huge, barely-hidden cock in the young man's Speedos.

I gave the lifguard a smile, and turned back to my towel and clothes, but I was still seething from Bert's accusation, so I decided to go for a walk further along the beach. Not bothering to dress, I left my things where they were, knowing they would be safe enough under the watchful eye of the nearby lifeguard on his elevated perch, and wandered off to the north, soon passing beyond the safety-sanctioned areas - not that I intended going into the water. Even on calm days like today there was still the risk of undertows or sharks. I just wanted to walk.

Before long, I came to another large sign. This one warned that I was trespassing on Federal Property. It went on to explain that I was now on a Federal military reserve, that this was part of the firing range for the military base, about a mile further inland; that I was committing a crime by beig here; and that I was here at my own peril.

I completely ignored the sign, as did most who came across it. I doubt that anyone had ever been arrested for trespassing here; and I am sure it has not been used as firing range since World War II, and probably not even then. But the military base was the reason the coast road departed from the shorefront, not to return for about two miles.

A few minutes beyong this sign, I happened to look back for some reason. There was a man following behnd me. When he saw me looking back, he paused and pretended to be reading the warning sign. He was quite a distance away, but from his general build, harcoloring, and the green bathing suit he was wearing, I guessed it was Bert!

Why was he following me? If he wanted trouble, I was more than large enough to take him on, and there was not much chance he had a weapon concealed in that skimpy bathing suit.

I contnued on my way, but glancing back a few minutes later, I saw that he was still behind, keeping his distance.

I can't say I was worried by his tracking me; it was more intriguing than worrisome - and maybe just a little bit erotic. I know I got a hard-on.

A bit further along, the monotony or sand dunes and salt-grass gave way to a patch of stunted trees coming almost down to the water's edge. One was a wild fig, warped and distorted by sun and wind and salt, but still clinging to life. I leaned against this for a while, pretending to rest, to be unaware of Bert following, trying to give him a chance to catch up, but he slowed his pace also, and lingered way back there.

This game of cat and mouse was definitely exciting me. My cock was standing erect!

I wandered on further, sometimes wading in the shallows, somtimes wandering further up the beach. Bert kept the same distance behind me.

The beach was mostly dead flat for miles, but here and there the sand-dunes, blown by the off-shore winds in their march toward the sea actually nearly made it. One of these sandhils was just before me, reaching right down to the water.

I climbed up i one side of the sandhill, and went striding over the top and down the other side, as if I were going puposefully onward. However, as soon as I was out of sight of Bert, cut off from his view by the sandhill itself, I sropped and waited, knowing that he would soon crest the ridge.

Sure enough, with five minutes, there he was, at the top of the ridge, looking down at me, waiting for him at the bottom on the level beach.

"Looking for someone?" I challenged him.

Bert stopped in his tracks, and was about to turn back, but I called, "If you've got something further to say, come on down. Don't be chicken about it."

Gathering himself, Bert made his decision. He sloshed his way down through the loose sand toward me. He was right up to me before he spoke.

"Listen," he said, and there was no antagonism in his voice, "about before, when I said you were …" He stopped mid-sentence.

"When you said I was a faggot? a pervert? a pedophile?" I finished for him.

"Well, yeah, that," Bert mumbled. "Look, I'm sorry about all that. I don't know what got into me. I guess I was just jealous of your freedom to do as you like."

"You mean, to go naked on the beach?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, that," Bert mumbled again.

"It was a clothing optional beach. You could have taken your bathng suit off too." I pointed out.

"No, I couldn't, not in front of the wife and boy," he objected.

"Surely they've both seen you naked before?" I challenged.

"Well, yeah," he admitted.

"Then why not?" i pressed him.

"Well, I guess I was afraid I'd get a hard-on," he admitted sheepishly, "like you've got now," he added with a grin, nodding toward my rock-solid meat.

"Well it was kind of exciting having you stalking me," I admitted.

"Nice bit of meat," he commented, still eyeing it.

"Looks like you're not to badly off in that department yourself," I replied, motioning toward the huge bulge in his small bathers. "Why don't you kick 'em off and swing free like me."

"Well, OK," he replied, "but you know I have a woody?" he said, defensively, as he shugged his bathers down and stepped out of them, picked them up, squeezed them into a ball, and carried them in one hand.

"I'd like to make it up to you for what happened," Bert said.

"How would you do that?" I asked.

"Well, I could let you fuck me hellip;" he suggested, wistfully.

"That's not a bad idea," I agreed, "but who would get more pleasure from it? Me? Or You?"

Bert grinned sheepishly.

"Well, I've got to admit I do like a nice dick in me once in a while when the wife's not around," he confessed.

"Ok, it's a deal," I agreed. "Come on. Over here."

Just a little bit further along the beach there lay the remains of a large tree, washed out of its native soil in some distant part of the world by erosion, and borne by seas and tides and winds to end up here, on this beach. It was there that I led Bert, a perfect place for a little stand-up sex, with something to hang onto.

It was there at the water's edge that he bent over one of the branches of the fallen tree, baring his butt-hole for me to use. I entered him with just a little spit, and he grimaced a bit at first entry, but as my dick slid back and forth in his hole, natural lubricants came into play, and soon I was sliding in and out easily, with Bert crying, "Oh yes!" and "More! More!" and "Oh, fuck!"

Bert was a good fuck ,with a nice tight ass that gripped my shaft firmly, but which let me slide deep, deep inside him. If I pulled right out, his hole seemed to open automatically to re-admit me, letting me drive all the way in again.

I pounded into him, over and over, a real power fuck, and never once did he complain or ask me to stop.

After I came inside him Bert squatted and squeezed my cum out into his palm. He used my cum as lube to wank himself off. When he had done, we both took a quick splash in the shallows to wash off the traces.

With Bert still naked, bathers in one hand, we walked back the way we had come, chatting as we went, getting to know - and like - each other. We discovered we lived in the same eastern suburb, no more than three blocks from each other, that he was sure he had seen me once or twice in the local pub, and that we even had a couple of acquaintances in common. We eventually wandered up, like a couple of old pals, to where his wife and son were waiting, worried.

"Honey, Tommy," he said to the two of them, waving his hand in my direction, "This is Dave. I apologised as you said I should and made it up to him. I think we're going to be good friends.

"Tommy, you can take your bathers off, too, if you want!" And another beach bum joined the group.

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