The Surf (Part 1) (f, ghost story, exhibitionism)

Josie slumped down onto her towel, letting her surfboard hit the sand with a thump. She was exhausted, but exhilarated; it had been a great surf. She didn’t bother drying off, just let the water droplets cling to her hot skin and cool her down in the fresh morning air. It was going to be a warm day, but it was still early so the heat hadn’t hit yet. But her body was pumping with the exertion and excitement of riding the last few waves. She sat on the towel in her bikini, letting the breeze touch her lightly, looking around at the incredible beach that surrounded her.

This was the first time she’d been to this place, and none of her mates had been game to join her. They all warned her not to go, that it was too dangerous, creepy and no good for surfing anyway. Boy, were they wrong. It had been rough out there, but she knew how to look out for herself. She could spot a rip and she’d helped a few friends out of trouble a few times so she knew she could react in the heat of the moment if she got caught out there. The stories about the beach were not about rips, anyway. Or even about sharks, although there were some rumours about a guy who disappeared while surfing which was a possible shark attack a few years back, but they never found a body.

The stories about this beach were vague and superstitious, the kind of spooky tales that kids tell each other and get so worked up they forget they totally made it up and start believing their own fantasies. It was meant to be a cursed beach, maybe starting from Aboriginal times, when this was a sacred spot. There were stores of bad feelings, people going missing, ghostly voices heard by campers at night, urban myths of murder on the beach.

She could see why it would be a place of spiritual significance. It was beautiful, isolated, and there was a set of dramatic looking cliffs and old eucalypts on the hill that made eerie rustling sounds in the wind.

Cursed, and haunted, they said. There was one popular story, mostly spread in local school yards, that whatever it was that haunted the beach hated people surfing, that all surfers coming to the beach disappeared and no trace of their bodies were found. According to the story, this was because a surfer guy came to the beach to suicide and no one looked for him because no one cared about him enough to notice he was missing. He was rejected by the surfer crowd at the popular beaches in the area and had no friends or family. He was just dry bones strewn across the beach by the time he was found.

How much of this story was fabricated or exaggerated, Josie didn’t know or care. All she knew is that she hated surfing at the crowded beaches popular with all the boys, who wanted her around as eye candy on the beach, but got all territorial and guarded their masculine space against her unwanted intrusion when she tried to hit the waves. So, if she had to go a little out of her way and deal with ghosts and curses and creepy trees, she was up for it.

It had been the best surf she’d had in years. Sitting there in the silence of the morning, though, she did have a feeling like she was being watched. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was giving her that feeling, but she looked around and couldn’t see anyone. There was a 20 minute drive down a sandy 4wd track to get to the beach, and no houses or walking tracks anywhere near, so if there was someone, she’d have heard their vehicle for sure. So she relaxed.

She lay on the towel and let the sun get warmer as the day really got started. She had smooth, honey skin, but she thought she’d get a deeper tan– it always made her already fit, muscular curves look more defined. She even had some visible abs. Not a six pac, but little lines on the edge of her flat belly that showed her strength. Wanting to get an even tan, she pulled her bikini top off over her head, her nipples instantly hardening with exposure to the air. The fullness of her breasts had been hidden by her sporty bikini, which helped her get less attention when out sharing the waves with the guys. So when she pulled it up over them, they’d bounced out and were now feeling wonderfully free. Her bikini bottoms covered a lot of her up, too, so she pulled them off to tan the band of pale skin across her hips.

Having the secluded beach all to herself, the feeling of blood pumping from her surf, and the warm sun with a light breeze moving over her naked body awoke in her a calm arousal. She felt the sun start to get warmer as it got higher in the sky, the warmth a kind of intimacy, like all the world was holding her in an erotic embrace. She started to feel the sense of being watched again, but this time it felt good, like being watched by an attractive admirer. The soothing sounds of the waves crashing on the shore was hypnotic, and seemed to be timed with her breaths, like the ocean was trying to join with her in some kind of sensual union.

She stretched herself out on her towel, lifting her arms and letting her legs lie slightly apart so the breeze and the warmth of the sun touched the sensitive bare skin of her vulva and tickled her sensitive armpits, caressing every inch of her like an attentive lover. Gorging herself on the sensory bliss of the moment, she could feel herself getting wet with desire. Not desire for anything specific, just desire to be there, naked and open to the empty beach. The eerie trees on the hill made their whispering sound as they moved, but it didn’t bother Josie at all.

Despite, or even perhaps because of, that growing feeling of being watched, she slowly lifted her knees up to her chest, stretching her legs by pointing one foot up, then the other, then she splayed her legs out either side, spreading her labia open so that the heat of the sun hit the glistening pink folds of her sex. It felt amazing, both the sensual unfamiliarity of the sun’s warmth on her private skin, and the feeling of being exposed and powerfully vulnerable.

The stretch felt great, too, and she held her legs open, letting her hips relax into the stretch. Her flexibility allowed her to hold her ankles and straighten her legs out. She was enjoying the feeling of being a sexual spectacle, even though she knew no one was looking. It felt like she was being watched, like the ocean and the sky and trees on the hill all wanted to spread her open on the beach and have her.

The stretch was feeling really good, but also, it felt like her legs were a little too strong, like they were holding the stretch a little too easily. She folded one of her legs at the knee, bringing her heel to her butt. It felt like her leg was moving through invisible resistance, like a strong current was pushing against her. She tried to push her leg all the way down and it was difficult to work against the current. She stretched it up again and felt no resistance. Like even the air wanted her open and prone. She was happy to obey the will of the atmosphere and stay exposed.

She noticed the crash of the waves seemed louder, and she realised the edge of the water was closer. Strange, as she thought she’d come at high tide in the morning. Strangely, she thought she saw a shadow move across the sand. She pushed her legs down through the strange resistance and sat up, looking around her. She was aware of how her breasts bounced as she sat up, still feeling pleasantly like she was on display.

She looked around her for the movement she had glimpsed. Then she saw it clearly– there was a shadow on the white gold sand. A human shadow, moving towards her from the water.

…To be continued next week ?
To read more of my stories, check out my blog (link in the comments), which I update pretty regularly xxx

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/7mdsyd/the_surf_part_1_f_ghost_story_exhibitionism