A day at the beach

A day at the beach

I’ve never forgotten Annette although I’ve hardly known her. I was a quite poor and quite unhappy young guy living in a small town in France about 80 miles from the sea, the Atlantic Ocean. I liked going to the ocean, which I would do, on my own, every chance I got. I had found this place, by a small fishermen village. There was a great beach and lonely dunes and the wind, always.

First I started to camp there by myself four or five times a year. Later, friends, boys and girls, hitchhiking from the city, later driving on motorbikes, would sometimes come with me. I remember going there as early as March and we’d go swim and the ocean was cold. So very fucking cold. You had to have balls, even if they shrunk, to go in there. And the girls sure took notice.

At night, round the camp fire, with the Atlantic wind, there was always beer and wine and dope and a guitar or some music. Other than that, there were only the dunes, the ocean and the wind.

We always settled away from the village, not to bug anybody. And the villagers didn’t mind us. We probably even reminded the old ones of their lives before wars, and almost all of them were old. Yet, they didn’t mind us coming to their only bar for coffee and breakfast in the morning, to their only grocery store for beer and wine and food in the evening. In March, we were the only tourists and, to them, our spending money was, if not by aliens, god sent.

Anyway, the few young locals took to join us around the camp fire. The drinking, they knew already and didn’t need us. But the dope? The music? The city?

Anyway, very early on, so young I couldn’t even drive a car, there was only me camping alone in the dunes when two boys and one girl, locals, came to see me. They were welcomed by me and you knew their parents were not worried: going to the dunes was all that there was to do.

Anyhow, I got to like the girl, her name was Annette, and she seemed to like me. We were about the same age, maybe a bit less or a bit more. I don’t know. One day, I was alone when Annette came again, alone this time, during the day, to talk to me she said. Alright then.

So we took off for a walk in the dunes. We ended up in a nook, protected from the wind and the spring sun feeling good enough. There were dunes all around and nobody in sight for miles, just the ocean, the sky and that spring sun. So we laid our jackets on the cold sand and were soon lying down.

Annette was ready to show me something and I was very excited. She warned me though.

“I’m a virgin”, she said “and now is not the time. Is that clear?”

“Yes” I said and I meant it.

Then she let me take her clothes off, slowly, slowly. It was sunny but still chilly, and I knew that if I tried to swim in that ocean, which I could, my balls would shrink and hurt. So she had goose bumps and I did to.

Anyway she accepted my gaze and was somewhat happy with what she saw in my eyes. And she accepted my hands and was curious about it. And she accepted my kisses and later my tongue as I licked her pussy. I could hear the wind making fun of me and I could tell she was overwhelmed. And I was too. But I had given my word and she shouldn’t have anything to fear, and she didn’t.

As we were being nice to each other, my medium finger reached her anus, which was soaked. The moment I did, I had somehow found a way to be truthful to my words and to the truth of the moment. Our eyes crossed and, in a glimpse, we both knew this was as good a penetration as we would get today so we yielded to generosity and abandon. It was slow and sweet. I fondled her butt, and it was a first for me, and she just gave it to me, thrusting herself onto my finger, and we both gave in and I felt her contractions as I simultaneously ejaculated on the cold sand.

It was a miracle.

As soon as it was over though, Annette said that she had to go and she was soon dressed again and gone. She didn’t come back the next day, nor the next, and my vacation was over and I had to leave the ocean and go back to my shitty life.

When I came back again, things were weird in the village. These people at the bar and the grocery store and church knew me somewhat, knew of me at least; I was the only kid coming to camp alone by their dunes, rain or shine. So, if they didn’t know my name, they knew of me in the village. But this time I could tell they were looking at me funny and I didn’t like the look of it.

Later I got the story straight. I guess some cousin of hers saw her leaving to the dunes with me that day. After all, the dunes are probably where this bastard had been conceived so, after my departure, he went and cried ‘rape’. He must not have liked me I guess. Jealous guy. I understand. What did he have to give the girl? Of course he hated me. Anyway, he cried ‘rape’ and the whole village was in an uproar. They called police.

Imagine poor Annette facing the inquisition: “We saw you going to the dunes;” “We saw you with no clothes on;” “Did he rape you?” Etc. And there you are in a village away from everything and for this girl it’s some kind of winter and I couldn’t be of any help. What could she say?

“Oh yes, I didn’t tell you guys but this city slicker put his finger up my ass and, god being my witness, we liked it so much and it was so good.” You know she couldn’t say this.

But Annette did say that I didn’t rape her.

So, after the police, they brought in a doctor. Who had to attest that this here villager girl was still a perfect virgin, therefore could not have been raped.

Once her virginity was attested by the doctor, everyone in the village was confused.

“Was the grocer’s daughter raped or not after all?” would wonder the old villagers.

So it remained a mystery and that’s what I saw in their eyes the next time I showed up there.

“Well, if he had raped that girl, he would have never come back, would he?” would say the bartender.

In any case, by the time I came back, the grocer’s girl was gone. I guess, at the time, Annette must have been as surprised as I was; we hadn’t taken off to the dunes for an ass situation, it just so happened as we both kept our words.

So, with the cousin saying he saw it and listening to Annette’s confused answers, I can now understand why the inquisitors could indeed believe that something bad must have had happened to her, and I guess her parents were worried rightly so if there was indeed a chance that she had been raped. Only, she couldn’t explain that her confusion had more to do with what she had discovered about herself than any rape issue. She just couldn’t tell the truth, they would have lapidated her. She knew it and that’s why she gave only embarrassed answers.

Anyway police and the doctor and people’s voice said that there was no rape and apparently no harm done and villagers never bugged me about it. I later looked for Annette and learned she had been sent by her father in a boarding school and I never saw her again, so I will never know what happened from her point of view. Somehow, even after all those years, I’m pretty sure that she remembers.

Did she do it again? Did she ever had again this abandon?

I’ll never know.

But I remember how it felt off the tip of my finger and I know now what it did to my brain.

Ellar Wise

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