9 comments/ 56011 views/ 21 favorites Nude in St. Barths By: MustangKathi My first four stories have been presented in chronological order. This one skips ahead about a year, but I felt I had to write it now. I was a pro domme, and Peter had been my sub, but our relationship had grown more complicated over time. Peter and I had been fucking and sessioning for a while, and the line between the two was blurring. Whatever it was we were doing, I felt bad about charging him money, so I stopped. Peter, though, felt uncomfortable about not paying, so he suggested that we put the money towards a vacation in St. Barths. It would just be the two of us. I thought that would be nice. I'd never been to the Caribbean; in fact, I'd never been out of the country. I was psyched to hang out on the beach, eat French food and generally loll around for a week doing nothing. Oh, and there'd be fucking. Peter rented a two-bedroom villa right on the beach in St. Jean. Normally, it was ridiculously expensive, but we were going at the beginning of the low season, in late April. Peter said it would be much cheaper, less crowded and with fewer Americans. That sounded good to me. I packed light — a couple of t-shirts and some jean shorts. I also packed a couple of bikini tops and a few form-fitting board shorts for the beach. When we took the cab to JFK, it was cold and raining. But four and a half hours later, we were sweating on the tarmac of St. Maarten. From there, it was a ten-minute flight to St. Barths in a tiny plane that only sat eight. We found our luggage and got in the line for customs. Maybe it was my brand new passport, or the fact that I was a short Korean girl traveling with a tall blond guy twenty years my elder, but something aroused the suspicion of the custom officials. The two older women elected to search my backpack and found nothing. But when they opened up my suitcase, they found dildos, harnesses, vibrators and lube. They seemed confused by the dildos, so I smacked Peter's ass and gave it a big squeeze. Now the ladies understood, and they smiled mischievously at us. This was going to be a good vacation. We'd just landed, and we'd already been busted for ass-fucking by the authorities. We grabbed our rental car — a Suzuki Samurai — and drove to the villa. It was adorable, with a small pool and a view of the beach and the bay. We unpacked, took a quick shower and decided to head out and get supplies. We took the top off the car to get some sun and drove off. Peter had switched into a linen shirt and loose board shorts, and I had on a t-shirt and jean shorts. In the hot Caribbean sun, that was a mistake. I was already sweating through my shirt. I told Peter this was all I'd packed, and he said we should go to Gustavia — the main town — to get me some clothes. We parked outside a dress shop. I wasn't normally a dress girl, but sundresses were the standard fare down here. That, and wraps. I found two cute short sundresses, with buttons running all the way down the front. I tried one on in the changing room and stepped out to find a mirror. I wasn't wearing a bra — I'm only a B cup — and I don't wear panties with jeans. So I was nude underneath the sundress, but at least I felt cool. Peter, in the meantime, found a tiny bikini which he handed me to try on. I'm not a girly-girl in New York, but I was on vacation now — so why not? I tried on the bikini top — it fit pretty well. But the bottom only covered about a third of my ass. To me, it felt like wearing nothing. I stepped out of the dressing room and saw another couple had walked into the store. As I checked myself out in the mirror, I could see that the man was checking me out as well. I adjusted the bikini bottom, pretending to check the fit. But I was really just putting on a little show for my admirer. I rolled the back down halfway, and then rolled it back up. I made sure his eyes were on me, and then rolled down the front, exposing my bald pussy. I waited a few seconds, then rolled them backup. Peter came over. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Making friends," I said, with a smile. I went back to the dressing room and put on a sundress. I was feeling flirtatious and naughty. This was not the normal me, but New York City was thousands of miles away. I decided to have some fun. I unbuttoned the top few buttons on the dress. My tits were still covered, but if I leaned forward, everyone would get a good view. I went to the cashier to pay, but Peter already had his credit card out. He'd also found a wrap for me to wear with the bikini. He paid, and we headed off to the grocery store. It was freezing in there, and I felt my nipples go hard. We grabbed a cart and started with the fruits and vegetables. As I reached over to grab a melon, the dress strap fell off my shoulder and down my arm. I had enough buttons still buttoned, so the dress didn't completely expose my tit. I had to fix that. I unbuttoned another button. Peter was smiling. He was a big-time exhibitionist, but I'd never done something like this before. We went over to the meat section, but there a family there. We got what we needed, and moved down to the wines. A couple of guys were there, inspecting labels, so I reached down to get a bottle from the bottom shelf. The strap fell down, and my left breast fell out. "Oops," I said, standing up. I stood there for a second with my breast exposed. Then I slowly grabbed it and stuffed it back in the dress. "So sorry," I said, and kept walking. We paid for our groceries and drove back to the villa. "There are topless beaches down here, right?" I asked. "They're all topless," said Peter, "and Grande Saline is nude, too." "Then I'm confused," I said. "When I flashed those guys my tit, they really stared. I'd think they'd be used to the sight by now." "I think it's context," said Peter. "At the beach, it's just normal. But in the store, you're supposed to be clothed. When you flashed your tit, you were asking them to look at it, to consider it sexually. You were being sexual with them." That made sense. "Which, I should add, I find immensely arousing," he said. "I love that you want to expose yourself." We got back to the villa and unpacked. We grabbed towels and a couple of beers and headed out to the pool to get some sun. From the chaise lounge, I could see a portion of the beach, about twenty feet away, and the bay. We were semi-secluded, but anyone walking down to this end of the beach could see us. "Do you want your bikini?" asked Peter, taking off his shirt. "No. I'm good," I said. I unbuttoned the sundress some more and pulled it over my head. I stood there in the nude and watched the beach. No one was looking at me, but it still felt good to be without clothes outdoors. "You sure about this?" asked Peter. "I'm on private property," I said, "so it seems like it should be legal." I laid down on the towel. Through my sunglasses, I saw a group of guys walking down the beach towards us, checking out girls as they went. I spread my legs slightly. When they got to our villa, they stopped. I put my hands on my stomach and slowly moved them down to pussy. I had their attention now. I spread my legs and pulled my pussy lips apart. I wanted to show them the inside of my pussy. They said something in French and gave us the thumb's up sign. "What was that?" I asked. "They said I was lucky to have a sexy nude woman at my side," he responded. "Really?" So they liked the show. That made me feel good. We sunned ourselves for about an hour. Peter is very fair, and was starting to turn pink. We decided to call it a day. "Let's jump in the pool," I said, "but take your shorts off first. Be nude with me." Peter stood up, looked around and dropped his shorts. I stood up and hugged him. No one was looking at us, but it still felt good. I felt Peter's cock begin to stir. "I'd like to suck you off, but I think that would be pushing it," I said. "It would be," he said. So we jumped in the pool. Once we'd cooled down, we went inside and showered. It was time for dinner. I put the sundress back on, and felt a little sad about having to wear clothes. I consoled myself by buttoning the minimum number of buttons I needed to keep the dress from falling off. Then I unbuttoned several buttons from the bottom of the dress, creating a slit up the middle. I was now exposing as much of myself as I could without getting arrested. We drove back to Gustavia to a restaurant called Eddy's. It was an open-air place, tucked into a garden. We had a dinner of fish, lentils, chayotes and a tomato salad, washed down with a bottle of French wine. The waiter was a cute young French kid. I made sure to lean in whenever he came by, so he could see my tits. He came by a lot. We paid and walked down a couple of blocks a bar called Le Select. It was the oldest bar in St. Barth, and a bit of a dive — in a good way. We got a couple of beers and sat down at a table on their terrace. "So when did this exhibitionist streak arise?" asked Peter. "Honestly, just today," I said. "There's something about this place that makes we want to have people look at me. The people down here are so good-looking, and there's real sexual vibe to this place — like everyone goes home and has great sex every night." I spied a table of guys across the terrace. I positioned my chair so I my legs were pointing right at them. Then I slowly unbuttoned the bottom of my dress even further, almost to the waist. They had stopped talking and were watching me. Then I spread my legs. The dress fell off my legs, exposing my pussy. I made eye contact with the guys, and slowly closed my legs. They raised their bottles, and I smiled. One guy picked up his cell phone, and pointed it towards me. I figured there was no harm, so I spread my legs again, moving my hands down to pull my pussy lips apart. The flash went off several times, and I closed my legs. I looked over at Peter. "I'm horny," I said. "Would you fuck me?" "Since you asked nicely," said Peter. We walked through the terrace towards the bar. Halfway there, I turned to face the table. The bar was to my back so I was safe. I unbuttoned the remaining buttons and opened my dress. I closed my eyes but I could feel the flash go off. I closed my dress, but did not button anything. I smiled at the guys, turned around and walked out of Le Select, holding my dress closed with my hand. The street was empty except for a couple making out across the way. I put my hand down, and my dress opened up. "Aren't you pushing it?" asked Peter. "No," I said. "This is pushing it." I let the straps fall off my shoulders, and the dress fell to the ground. I picked it up, folded it, and handed it to Peter. I was now walking the down the street completely nude. It was late, but not that late. I heard a car behind us, and then we were in its headlights. I knew that whoever was in that car could see my naked ass. I kept walking. The car pulled up and slowed down. Inside were two couples. "Ask them if they like what they see," I said. Peter spoke to them in French, and one of the woman responded. "She's says you are very pretty, and have a beautiful ass," Peter said. "Merci!" I said. We walked back to the car and drove back to the villa. I stayed naked, letting the cool wind wash over my body. I reached into Peter's shorts and played with his cock. When we got back to the villa, we fucked by the pool. The next day, Peter woke up before me and went out to get bread. I made coffee and sat down by the pool. It was a little chilly, but felt good. When Peter got back, I made him some eggs. We ate breakfast and talks about what to do that day. "I want to go that nude beach," I said. "I don't want to put on clothes." We packed some towels and water and headed out. There was few cars on the road, but they honked when they saw me. I assume they thought I was just topless, but I could deal with that. We got to the parking lot for the beach. There were already a few cars there, and another one followed us in. I got out of the car and grabbed my bag. A couple got out of the other car, and waved. They were in shorts and t-shirts. "Traditionally, people wait until they're actually on the beach before disrobing," said Peter. "They're going to see my naked anyway," I said. "Why wait?" But Peter was right — it was about context. Walking nude onto the beach caught people's attention — it said please look at me. It said I want to expose myself to you, I want you to watch. The beach was huge and we had no problem finding a space for ourselves. Virtually all of the women were topless, and about a fifth of people were nude. I sat down on my towel, and Peter pulled off his shirt. I started to undo his shorts. "I can do that," he said. 
"But I want to," I responded. Unlacing his board shorts also gave me a chance to play with his cock. I wanted him to be at least semi-erect when I put him on display. We laid down on the towel and soaked in the sun. I spread my legs — we had put sunscreen everywhere — and read a magazine. If I saw people come over, I'd pretended to stretch so I could graze my pussy with my hand. Sometimes, I'd rub my clit in a nonchalant way, as if I'd forgotten I wasn't at home. When it got close to lunchtime, I rolled over on my side and put my hand on Peter's chest. "I'm getting hungry," I said. My hand moved down to Peter's cock. I flipped it on his stomach, and massaged his balls. His cock began to grow. "We should go," he said, "before you get me in trouble." "No fucking on the nude beach?" I asked. "Not even a hand job?" I leaned over and frenched Peter. That did it. He was hard now. "You have an audience," I said. He looked over to see three couples. The women were grouped together and were lying on their stomachs, looking at us. I sat up and spat on Peter's cock. Without lube, this would have to do. I checked in on the girls. They were still watching. I spat on Peter's cock again. I picked up the pace.
 "You're so lucky," I said. "People are going to watch you cum. No one's seen me cum yet, except for you. And you don't count." Peter's ball sac had tightened, so I knew he was close to cumming. "Please cum," I said. "Cum in front of those girls." His hips bucked and he shot his load into my hand. I looked over at the girls and licked my hand. At least they would see me eat his cum. They clapped, and I took a mini-bow. Then Peter and I walked into the water to clean ourselves up. When we got out, the three girls came over. They had cute breasts, but they had kept their bottoms on. "Thank for the show," one of them said, speaking with a German accent. "Thank you for watching," I said. "You're a lovely girl, and your boyfriend has a beautiful cock," she said. "Thank you," I said. "I like it. You can touch it, if you like." The girls looked over their shoulders, but they're boyfriends weren't watching. They each grabbed his cock and gave it a little pull. "You can touch me, too," I said. They laughed, but one girl stepped forward, licked her finger and slid it up my pussy. I thought they might grab my breasts, but this was better. I grabbed the girl's wrist. "Please," I said, "just a few seconds more. Enough to turn me on. Please." I released my grip. The girl kept her finger inside of me, and moved it around me, searching for my g-spot. I moaned. The girl pulled her finger out of me. "Thank you," I said, "thank you for turning me on. I need to go and get fucked now." The girls ran off, and Peter and I walked to the parking lot. He wanted to put his shorts back on, but I ordered him to stay naked. We got back in the car and drove off. I played with myself until we got home, and then we walked into the villa, still nude, and fucked. Technically, we fucked, then I ass-fucked Peter, then he got me off again with a vibrator. And then he fucked me in the ass. But you get the point. We made sandwiches for lunch, and took a nap. After that, it was time for some skinny-dipping. Unfortunately, no one but Peter could see my naked in the pool, so it wasn't as satisfying. I toweled off and laid out on chaise lounge. Peter went inside to work on his computer. Occasionally, I would get up and walk around the pool. Usually, there weren't people down on this end of the beach, but when there were, they would see everything. If they were nice, I'd put a little show on for them, squeezing my tits and shaking my ass. I was starting to sweat, so I went in to cool off. It was getting close to dinner, and I hadn't worn a thing all day. Sadly, that would have to end. I put the sundress back on —minimally buttoned — so we could go to the other side of the island for lobster. The restaurant was called La Langouste, and it was located a short walk from the beach in Flamands. We had a wonderful dinner of spicy lobster, a huge, clawless variety, and champagne. Our bellies full, we drove back through Gustavia, stopping at Le Select. We were met by smiles at the bar, and I saw why. Behind me was a bulletin board on which were business cards from customers over the years. It was an impressive collection, and seemed to come from every corner of the globe. Also stuck to the board was a photograph of me — eyes closed, smiling, dress flung open and legs spread. One of my flashees from the night before had printed it out and stuck it there. "There you are," said Peter, "for everyone to see." "I think it's great," I said. I looked around at the crowd in the bar. It wasn't a large bar, and it wasn't packed — this was Monday night — so I'd say there were about twenty-five people, mostly men. But each one of them had seen me naked, and when I looked at them, I could see in it their eyes. Peter ordered a couple of Heinekens.
 "This is you girlfriend?" asked the bartender. "Yes," said Peter, "the one in the photo." "She likes to take off her clothes?" he asked. Peter looked at me. "Yes, I do," I said. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "She can drink for free tonight if she is naked for one hour." "Well, I wouldn't want to get in trouble ..." I said. "You won't get in trouble," said the customer to my left. "I need to be sure of that," I said. "It wouldn't be fun to get arrested on vacation." "You won't get in trouble," said the man. "I'm the chief of police." "I like that," I said, "but I think I want a better deal." I reached down and undid a button. I leaned forward so a strap fell off my shoulder, exposing one of my breasts. I wanted to give them a taste. "I think my boyfriend should drink for free, too," I said. "Beer only, no hard liquor. And I'll be nude whenever you want me to be. All night. Or ... I could stop." I put my breast back in my dress. 
"Two Heineken," said the bartender, "on the house." I stepped back from the bar so they could get a better look. I unbuttoned all the buttons, and let the straps fall off my shoulders and down my arms. Once again, I was nude. I folded my dress and handed it to Peter. He was shaking his head.
 "Don't complain," I said, "I just bought you a night's worth of beer." "I'm not complaining," he said. "I love that you can do this and enjoy it." I sat down at the bar and introduced myself to Eric, the bartender, and Guillaume, the chief of police. He even showed me his badge. And Eric explained that I wasn't the first woman to get naked at Le Select. A few years ago, he had dared an Australian woman to get naked for an hour in exchange for free drinks and she'd done it. So that became the standard bet. But no one had taken him up on it since then. We ordered another round, and I put my arm around Guillaume. I was acting friendly, but what I really wanted to do was press a breast into his arm. I wanted to tease him. I gave him a peck on the cheek and squeezed his right hand, pulling it over so it grazed my left leg. Nude in St. Barths "It's such a pleasure to share a drink with such a lovely women," said Guillaume. "It's a pleasure to drink with such a handsome chief of police," I said. I moved his hand over onto my leg. He got the message, and started rubbing my leg, moving up to my inner thigh. I looked over and joined into Eric and Peter's conversation. His hand moved slowly up my thigh to my pussy. He found my clit, and massaged it between his fingers. I spread my legs wider, and he slid a finger into me. He stroked me slowly, just enough to turn me on. Then he pulled his finger out. I turned to face him. "Thank you," I said. More people came in the bar. They were all shocked, but none of them freaked out. Eric was placing drink orders onto a tray when I got an idea. I stood up and told Eric I'd be happy to be his waitress. Eric said I could keep any tips I made. So I picked up the tray and walked over to the table. "My name is Kathi," I said, "and I'll be your waitress this evening. Please let me know if you need anything else." I liked being the waitress, because it gave me an excuse to walk around the bar, showing off my body. It's one thing to be the naked girl at the bar — it's another to make sure everyone gets a good view. I even showed off my asshole. I dropped some money on the floor, and bent over from the waist to pick it up. I could feel the night air on my anus. To make my point clear, I reached around with my hands and spread my butt cheeks as wide as they would go. For that, I got applause. Peter was having a good time talking with Eric and Guillaume, but I didn't want him to feel left out. So I walked over to him, put my tray down and kissed him. A real kiss, with lots of tongue. And I ground my hips into his. Then it was back to work. I made some friends, and learned where on the island to shop and eat. Then one of the tables asked for a picture with me, and I happily obliged. The only condition was that they had to email a copy to both me and the bar. I knew I would probably never do this again in my life, and I wanted something to remember this trip by. Then all the tables asked for photos, and the cell phones came out. There are photos of me with guys, with couples, even a table full of girls. My favorite photo was with four guys. They picked me up and were holding me horizontally. I noticed they took care to expose my breasts and pussy. People were leaving, so it was time for me to stop playing waitress. There were eight people left in the bar, including Eric. Guillaume had left, but not before giving Peter his card. I now had police protection. (And yes, there's a very cute photo of me with the chief of the St. Barths police.) I gave Eric the tray and he handed me my tip jar. I counted out nearly 300 euros in tips — about $400 at the time. Not bad for three hours work. And Peter and I drank for free. Eric asked us to stay for a nightcap, and we agreed. He reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of armagnac, a type of French brandy. "This is my private bottle," said Eric. "I hope you enjoy." It was terrific — very smooth and a little peppery. Not too sweet. "Thank you for gracing my bar," he said. "It was wonderful to look at your body all night." We toasted.
 "Will you be back?" he asked. "Sure," I said, "in a day or two." "Just let me know," said Eric. "I'll put a sign out — Naked Girl Waitressing Tonight." "That's a deal," I said. "And now you go home and fuck him?" he asked. I nodded. "He is a lucky man," he said. "Yes, he is," said Peter. Eric poured us another round and we said our good-byes. "I feel like this is a stupid question, but do you want your dress?" Peter asked. I put my hands on hips and feigned indignation. "Don't you know I'm Naked Girl?" We walked off, holding hands. It was chilly now, but I wasn't going to put on any clothes. We got in the car and drove off. "By my math," said Peter, "you were naked for about twenty-one hours today. Maybe twenty-two. That's pretty good." "I think that's right," I said. "Do you have any idea how many people saw you naked?" he asked. I thought. "Maybe a hundred at Grande Saline," I said. "Maybe more, but that doesn't really count. That's a nude beach." "You weren't just on a nude beach," he said, "you were fingering yourself, giving a hand job, and letting another girl finger yourself on a nude beach. That counts." He had a point. "And, all told, maybe a hundred at the bar," I said. "Call it two hundred minimum," he said. "That's a good day for a stripper." "That's true," I said. "And strippers won't let you take nude photographs of them," he said. "I bet some do, but I don't know," I said. I liked this — being naked and talking about me being naked. I asked Peter for my phone. "Who are you calling?" he asked. 
 "Nobody," I said. "I want to see the photos." They downloaded slowly over the island's crappy wireless system. That only gave me more time to inspect each one. I would remember every detail of when the photo had been taken — whether the customers were shy or brash, whether they copped a feel of my ass or my tits, the other customers looking on. And then I remembered that Eric had a copy of all of these photos, too. "Drive faster," I said. "I need to fuck you." The next morning, we woke up and fucked again. I asked Peter if he could drive me into town. After he said yes, I asked if this could be a nude day, for the both of us. "You being nude is one thing," he said. "They will arrest my naked ass." "We'll have to be careful," I said. "But we can do this." Reluctantly, he agreed. We showered and had breakfast. I grabbed my flip-flops and my new wrap. Technically, it was clothing. But it was very sheer, and if I wore it in New York, I would absolutely be arrested. So it didn't count. I walked into the living room to find Peter waiting by the door. He was naked, save for his flip-flops and a hat. He was very fair, but he'd gotten a good base tan down by now. I knew he didn't want to burn, which I respected, but he looked ridiculous. The flaccid cock didn't help. This, I realized, is a fundamental difference between being naked as a man and begin naked as a woman. Women look good with their clothes off. Period. Guys only look good when they have erections. It doesn't need to be a super-hard erection, but it couldn't be a turtle-withdrawing-into-its-shell kind of cock. I dropped to my knees in front of him. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Can't have you be seen like this," I said. "Need a little blood in that thing." I blew him until he was half-hard, and stopped. "There," I said, "that looks better." We walked to the car and drove to a section of the island called Public. It was a commercial area, but I'd learned that there was a terrific wine store there named La Cave du Port Franc. Once we arrived, I took the wrap out of my bag and put it around me. "Can you see my nipples?" I asked. "Can you see my pussy? Am I nude?" "Close enough for jazz," he said. He kissed me. I grabbed my bag and walked in to the store and looked around for the champagne section. There were two middle-aged men behind the counter, and one of them came out to help me. I turned to face him, so could see my body underneath the wrap. "I'm looking for a good champagne, maybe 100 — 150 euros," I said. "We have some excellent wines in that range. The 2004 Dom Perignon, the Krug — it's not vintage but it's excellent, the 2000 Winston Churchill —that's a little out of your price range but it's incredible," he said. It was cute how he trying to check me out, but still discuss wine.
 "And would a lady be entitled to a discount for dressing like this?" I asked. This gave him an excuse to check me out. I turned slowly so he could see me from every angle. 
 "Um," he stammered. "How about now?" I said. I undid the knot, and the wrap dropped to the floor. I saw his eyes go from tits to my pussy and back to my tits. Then I turned around and bent over, to show him my asshole. "150 euros," he said "That's a 20 euro discount." "We'll need glasses — good ones," I said. "But you can take pictures of me." "I have Spiegelau," he said. "They're nearly as good as the Reidel." "I have no idea what that means, but I'll take them," I said, putting my wrap in my bag. "Where do you want me?" He took me by the hand into the back of the store, and the other man joined us. We opened a door and walked into a cave. This was why the store was in a commercial area. There was a mountain here, and the store had blasted its own cave into it. It was chilly in here, and my nipples got hard. He led me over to a palate stacked with wooden champagne cases. There was a moveable stairway there, and he asked me to climb up. Two-by-fours were spread out on top of the cases. I left my bag on the stairway, but grabbed my cell phone. I stepped off gingerly and made my way to the middle. He started to take photos of me. I put the phone down, and struck a few poses. Then I sat down on the edge, and spread my legs and pussy lips. He liked that a lot. So did the other guy. I grabbed my phone and took a photo of the guys taking photos of me. I sent it to Peter. I stepped off the champagne cases and onto the stairway. When I got to the bottom, the gentlemen offered my their hands, and we walked back into the main room. I wrapped the wrap around me again and grabbed the bag with the champagnes and the glasses. "Thank you for letting me get naked for you," I said. "I appreciate the discount, and hope you enjoy the photos. I would appreciate if you sent me copies of them" I wrote down my email address, walked out of the store and got back in the car. Peter was looking at his iPhone, and I saw he'd gotten my email. "I'm assuming you were naked when they were taking pictures of you," he said. "Nude all day," I said, leaning over to kiss him and rub his cock. "Just like you." From there it was off to a place called Primantilles, back in St. Jean. They were kind of a high-end grocery store, and were supposed to have great meat. I walked in with my wrap and went over to the meat counter. I found the entrecôte, which I was told was equivalent to a rib-eye. I got some vegetables, too, and crème fraîche and salmon roe. There were another couple of guys working here, and I felt their eyes all over me. When I went to pay, I pulled the same stunt, asking for a discount and then dropping my wrap. A hundred euro tab dropped to sixty. For the photos, they took me to the back and led me into the meat cooler, where they aged their meat. I posed around the racks of hanging meat, rubbing my tits and pussy all over them. I asked them to take a photo with my phone, which I sent to Peter. By the time I'd gotten back to the car, Peter had received the email. "Are you fucking a dead cow?" he asked. "A little grinding — that's all," I said. Off to the bakery. This was my best bet for Peter's public nudity. It was run by a couple of young women, and I hoped there wouldn't be any guys there. Girls don't mind seeing other girls nude, but guys don't like to see nude guys. If I was going to put Peter on display, I needed an all-female crowd. I made out with Peter to get his cock hard. And then I went in. I was almost in luck. The owners were there, but there were two elderly gentleman, sipping expressos in the corner. I walked over to the counter and put my arm across my tits. I din't want to appear naked in front of the owners. Not yet. "May I help you?" asked one of the owners. They were cute, maybe thirty, with strong hands and beautiful skin. I chose a tart and they started to ring me up. 
 "I'd like to ask a favor, if I could," I said. "My boyfriend and I lost a bet, and we need to get naked in a bakery. Would you mind if he came in here — he's good-looking — and you took a photo of us?" The owner looked over at the old men, and then back at me. "You're naked underneath your wrap?" she asked. I nodded. "Get him in here," she said, "we'll help you out." I called Peter, then handed my phone to the owner. Peter walked in the door, his head held high. He saw the two women behind the counter and relaxed. This was going to work. I dropped my wrap. Peter and I put our arms around each other, and they took our photo. The woman offered me my phone, but I asked her to take a couple of more pix. Then I dropped to my knees and put his cock in my mouth. The woman were shocked, but they thought it was part of the bet. I looked at them and nodded. They took the photos, and I stood up. "Thank you so much," I said. "I'm glad that's over with." "It's not a problem," said the owner. "He has a nice penis. You are lucky." "Yes, I am," I said. I put the wrap around me, but Peter stopped me. "We've come this far ..." he said. So we strolled out of the bakery, caring our bags, over to the car, completely naked. Of course, there were people in the parking lot, but this was more silly than anything. Peter opened the door for me, and I got in. He walked around to his door, and slid into the driver's seat. "Happy now?" he asked. "Very," I said, "and the day's not done." We went back to the villa and had lunch. Then we laid out in the sun by the pool. Only a few people walked down to our end of the beach, which bothered me. I stood up and grabbed Peter's hand. "Come on," I said, "let's go for a dip in the ocean." He was reluctant, but it's amazing how persuasive a nude girl can be. We opened the gate by the pool, and walked down the path straight into the bay. I threw my arms around him and kissed him. We bobbed together in the water, my legs wrapped around him. "Is this crazy, what I'm doing?" I asked him. "It's your body, and no one's getting hurt," he said. "If you want to expose yourself, then do it. You don't make fun of me for enjoying being fucked in the ass." "Good point," I said, and I kissed him. And then we walked back inside and I fucked him the ass. It was that simple. OK, he ate me out 'til I came. But fucking him in the ass was easy. We stayed in bed until we got hungry. Then we got up and made our nude dinner, and relaxed on the couch in the living room. We found a re-run of Ghostbuster II and just snuggled. Halfway through, I started to fall asleep. "Let's go to bed," I said. "We did it. We were nude for a day. We deserve a rest." We slept like angels. I woke up the next day with his arm around me. Peter had planned for us to take a trip around the island on jet skis, but I needed to get in contact with Eric first. I wanted to be his nude waitress again, for a couple of reasons. The obvious one was to get naked, but the other one was to make money. I'd paid for a very nice steak dinner for Peter, but he'd paid for villa. I wanted to make some money for him, and I wanted to use my naked body to do it. I emailed Eric before breakfast and he called me when I was in the shower. I toweled off quickly and answered the phone. It only felt appropriate to be nude when I spoke to him. He wanted me at Le Select by 8:00 and he said he would put a sign up outside, advertising my nakedness. Peter and I drove out to Grand Fond. I had put on the bikini for the drive, but I was OK with that. I had proven whatever I needed to prove to myself. I still wanted to be naked, but I didn't need to be naked. I could wear clothes now — if a string bikini counted as clothes. We found the jet ski spot and met our guide for the morning. The ride around the island would take about a little more than an hour, and we'd stop halfway through for a snack. The guide gave us some rudimentary instructions, and we were ready to go. I took off my top and then my bottom, placing them in a compartment inside the jet ski. There weren't many people on the beach, but I was nude again. The guide was looking at me. "Do you mind?" I asked. "Not at all," he said. His eyes washed over me. I felt that sensation again, of being watched. I got on the jet ski and we were off. The jet ski was a blast — I'd never done it before. I liked the speed, the salt water splashing in my face, the crashing through waves. But what I really loved was the vibration. The engine was right between my thighs. Every time I hit the throttle, a wave of pleasure flowed through my body. It wasn't enough to get me off, but it was close. The guide took us around the island, slowing down from time to time to share some local history with us. This was fine by me, because it meant we could speed off again and I could put the throttle all the way up. I tried to cum, but the vibrations were in the wrong spot. I just couldn't get my groin in the right position. We pulled into an inlet for a break and a snack. I rode the jet ski gently into the beach until it stopped. I got up to survey the situation. We were on a small beach, maybe thirty yards wide and about twenty yards deep. Behind me, the ocean spread out, uninterrupted save for a few sailboats. We got out our towels and sat down. The guide handed us a salad of mango, papaya and strawberries. "I have a favor to ask," I said. "The ride over here made me very horny. May I masturbate? I don't think it will take long." The guide's eyes opened wide. "No problem," he said. "No problem at all." I looked over at Peter and he was smiling. He was used to this kind of behavior from me now, so he started in on his salad. I leaned back on my towel and spread my legs. I grabbed my left breast with my left hand and masturbated with my right. I slid two fingers inside me, and clawed the fingers upwards towards my G-spot. I stroked away at myself, watching the guide and Peter watch me. That turned me on — having an audience. I stroked harder and made myself cum. Finally relaxed, I pulled my fingers out of my pussy and offered them to the guide. He licked them. "Like mango," he said. I didn't believe him, but accepted the compliment anyways. We got back on the jet skis, and completed our tour of the island. The beach was fairly crowded when we got back, which I hadn't anticipated. We drove up onto the beach, and I got off the jet ski. I was being watched now, I could feel it — you don't see a nude girl jet skiing everyday. But I calmly reached into the storage compartment and pulled out my bikini bottom. I unfolded it and, facing everyone, tied it below my hips. We thanked the guide and walked back towards the car. I had my arm around Peter, and I could feel the salt water beginning to dry on his skin. When we got to the car, I kissed him. I asked Peter to take the long way home, through Gustavia. I wanted to see if Eric had put up his sign. We drove slowly past Le Select and there it was. "Ce Soir Seulement — Kathi, Serveuse Américaine Nue." Tonight Only — Kathi, Nude American Waitress. It wasn't Nude Girl — it was better. I asked Peter to park so I could take a picture. I want to remember this, I thought. Then we walked in to say hello to Eric. He had done some decorating since we'd been there a few days ago. The nude photo of me was still on the bulletin board. But Eric had taken about twenty other nude pictures of me and taped them up to the wall. It was the Nude Kathi Bar. I looked around, but saw few familiar faces. This was the lunch crowd, the day crowd and they were all new to me. They looked at the photos on the wall, then at me, then back at the photos. I walked over to some of them. "Yes, I am the girl in the photos," I said. "My name is Kathi, and I will be waitressing tonight. In the nude. Please come by and see me." We chatted with Eric briefly, confirming the time for this evening, and left. Walking outside, I spied the Le Select Souvenir Shop. I jumped in to buy a t-shirt, a large. Nude in St. Barths "You're buying clothes now?" asked Peter. "Just a t-shirt," I said. Then we headed back to the villa. I took off my bikini in the car because, well, why not? I made Peter take his shorts off, too, so I'd have something to play with. We got back to the villa, ate lunch and took a nap. This exhibitionism was tiring! And I had a big night ahead of me. We lounged around the pool the rest of the afternoon. When it came time for an early dinner, Peter and I went to a restaurant in Point Milou called Le Ti. I had my sundress back on, and I even managed to button most of the buttons. I ordered shrimp and Peter had tuna. And my tits didn't accidentally fall out of my dress, not even once. I was positively lady-like. After dinner, we headed straight to Le Select. I changed out of my sundress and into the t-shirt in the car. This would be my new uniform, at least until I took it off. We found a parking spot and got out of the car. We walked to the bar, and I peeked in. It wasn't full, but there were a lot more people there now. Fifty? Sixty? There were a lot of men, but there was a fair sprinkling of women as well. I took a deep breath and walked into the bar and over to Eric. "You're early," he said. "I think I could use a drink," I said. Eric pulled out his bottle of armagnac and poured three small glasses. I took a sip and looked around the room. I saw some faces from earlier today, and I saw some faces from earlier in the week. I even recognized some of the girls. But there was a buzz in the room and it was, bluntly, about me. I was the girl on the sign, I was the girl in the photos, I was the girl they had come to see take off her clothes. I looked up at Peter. "Are you OK?" he asked. "You know you don't have to do this." I took another sip of the brandy. "I think you're wrong, Peter," I said. "I think I do have to do this." He leaned over and kissed me. "Ready?" asked Eric. I nodded and finished my drink. "Kill the music for a sec, Eric?" I asked. I stepped to the middle of the floor. "Ladies and gentlemen," I yelled. "My name is Kathi, and tonight I will be your nude ... American ... waitress. You are free to take pictures, and you are free to touch me. I ask for two things — no insertion, and please tip well. Aside from that, I am at your pleasure." I reached down to grab the bottom of the t-shirt and, in one motion, ripped it up and over my head. The crowd applauded, and I took a bow. This was fun. I tossed the t-shirt to Eric. "I'll want that back later," I said. And I walked over to a table and asked them if I could get them another round. I was more brazen this time. I sat in people's laps, and I put their hands on my tits. I even asked them to spank my ass. Some of the guys got grabby, but they understood when I told them to calm down. Even some of the girls got into it, flashing their tits at the boys. But I was the only one who was completely naked, the only one getting groped. The bar filled up quickly, and I was rushing to keep up. But I knew the customers were here to see me. So if they wanted to squeeze my breasts or touch my ass, I let them. This was my job, and I wanted to do it well. And I always had time for photos. This meant people were having a good time. They wanted to remember this experience. And I knew that, years from now and thousands of miles away, people would still be staring at my naked body. 
That turned me on. I was serving drinks out on the terrace when I saw Guillaume. He ordered red wine, and when I came back, I asked for a favor. "Finger me," I said, sitting on his knee. He was alone at a table in the back. But there were probably eighty people out on the terrace now, and all of them could see me. "Finger me," I said. "Please. I need to get off." He licked two fingers and put them inside of me. He started to stroke me, but I decided to ride his fingers like a cock. I bounced up and down on his fingers, trying to be as quiet as I could be. I put my arms around his neck. "Put another finger in," I said. "I need to feel full." Guillaume slid another finger into me. That worked. I rode him hard, stifling my moans. When I came, I fell into him. I caught my breath and stood up. I held onto Guillaume's hand, so his fingers were still inside of me. Only when I had turned to face the customers did I allow him to take them out. Many of the customers saw this. I know, because when I took their drink orders, they asked me if I just got finger-fucked. I told them I had. "But you said no insertion," they said. "He's the chief of police," I said. "I had to let him finger-fuck me." I didn't tell them that I asked him to. "I'll make it up to you as best I can," I said. "Let's take some photos." The guys — it was a table of guys, five of them — stood up. I put an arm around the necks of the two tallest. "Lift me up, please," I said. "Now grab my legs." I spread my legs as far as I could, and leaned back into their chests. "Don't drop me," I said. I pulled my arms down and placed my hands on my pussy. I spread my lips with my left hand, and started masturbating with my right. "Is this OK? If I jerk off for you? If I get myself off?" I asked. I didn't hear their answer, but I saw the camera flash. It flashed some more, and they switched places. They all wanted to be in a shot of me masturbating. My head rolled back and I came. They put me down on the ground, but I felt shaky. One guy gave me his chair so I could catch my breath. But I couldn't dawdle — I had drinks to serve. I got to my feet and stumbled towards the bar. A girl intercepted me, a tall redhead. "I don't know who you are or why you're doing this," she said, "but this is the sexiest thing I've seen in my life." I kissed her. "My name is Kathi," I said, "and I'm a nude American waitress. This is what I do, and I do it because I want to do it." I kissed her, slipping my tongue into her mouth. She embraced me, and I felt her hands squeeze my bare ass. I got my wits about me, and started serving drinks again. I had to work fast to catch up, but the crowd was kind to me. They saw how hard I was trying to please them. I paid special attention to the redhead. She had been kind to me when I was weak. And she was hot — that helped. But she was a customer, and I needed to make myself available to her as well. When I was caught up, I stopped by her table. She was sitting with a group of girls. "Would you care for a photo?" I asked. "I don't mind. I only ask that you email me a copy." "I don't want a photo," she said. "I want to you to eat me out. Would you do that?" "I'd like to do that," I answered. "I'd like to eat your pussy." She dropped her shorts and hopped up onto the table. I spread her legs and put my mouth on her. Kathi, the Nude American Waitress, was a lesbian, or maybe bisexual now. But Kathi, the Nude American Waitress had never eaten out a girl in front of a crowd of people. But I couldn't say no. I didn't want to. Her hips were rocking back and forth, so I knew I was doing it right. I could see the flash of cell phones out of the corner of my eye, so I knew the crowd was getting into it. I slipped three fingers into her — I have small hands — and that was it. She came on my face, and I slurped up as much of her pussy juice as I could. I kissed her. "Thank you for letting my pleasure you," I said. "Kathi!' she said, pulling up her shorts. "You made me cum. Thank you!" I got back to serving drinks, but the crowd was growing rambunctious. A couple of guys straight out asked if they could fuck me, but I declined. But then some of the girls said they wanted to see me get me fucked, and I knew what I had to do. I went inside and got Peter. I pulled him out to the terrace. "Ladies and gentlemen," I said. "Several of you have asked to see me get fucked. I've already been finger -fucked once tonight, and I've also masturbated. I've even eaten out another woman, all for your pleasure. But I understand you want to see a cock in me, and I want that, too." "This is my boyfriend, Peter, and I love the way he fucks me," I said. "Peter, will you fuck me now?" I didn't wait for an answer. I yanked down his shorts and threw myself at his cock. I reached above my head and tried to unbutton his shirt. He took my hands and placed them behind my back. I saw his shirt fall to the ground behind him. He was hard now, so I stood up. I asked a table of customers if they would pick up their beers. Then I laid down on the table. I spread my legs and he entered me. I put my arms out to the side, and my hands were held by two girls. I felt hands on my breasts — two guys. I clamped down on Peter's cock. I wanted to squeeze the cum out of him. He pounded away at me as cameras flashed around us. I looked around at the crowd, the crowd that was watching us fuck. The crowd that was watching me get fucked. I raised my head to look at Peter. "When you cum, cum on my face," I said. "I think they'd like that." Then the redhead appeared and put her fingers on my clit. "You cum, too," she said. "We want to see you cum again." I felt my back arch, and I spasmed. I'd cum again. Then I felt Peter pull out of me, and I scrambled off the table and onto my knees. I couldn't even open my eyes. But I felt the shots of sperm on my eyes, my nose, my mouth. Instinctively, I found Peter's cock with my mouth and cleaned it. Cameras flashed. Peter helped me to my feet, but I felt wobbly. Peter put his arm around me and led me to the bar. I sat down in a chair, and he handed me a bar towel so I could get cleaned up. "You were incredible," said Eric, "but you're done. Relax now." He handed me my t-shirt. I looked at Peter. "That's more than enough," he said. "You're done." I'd been waitressing for about four hours now. During that time, I'd been groped by pretty much everyone in the bar. I'd been finger-fucked once, masturbated once and been fucked by Peter as well. I was drained. I put on the shirt and drew my knees up into it. "But the sign," I said, "the Nude American Waitress ...." "You were terrific," said Eric. "You made everyone happy." "They're not done," I said. "They want more." And I was right. The crowd didn't get ugly, but they'd been promised a nude girl, and now she was curled up on a bar stool. I could hear a table outside — guys and girls — chanting "where's our girl, where's our girl." And that's when the redhead stood up. "My name is Morgan," she said, "and I want to be your Nude American Waitress. If you will allow, I will get naked and serve you tonight. Do I have your permission?" If the crowd didn't roar, it came close. I saw Morgan pull off her top, remove her bra and step out of her shorts. She was nude now, just as I had been. She filled me in for the last hour, until the final customer left. She didn't get fucked, but she was a good sport about being groped and letting people take photographs of her. She did a great job. She gathered her clothes and sat down next to me. Eric put our tips jars on the counter and poured us a round of armagnacs. I was so tired that Peter had to count my tips. I did, however, notice that Morgan didn't get dressed to count hers. I liked this girl. Peter and I said good-bye to Eric while Morgan got dressed. We walked to the door of the bar when Peter stopped. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked. I sighed, and pulled off my t-shirt. I was nude again. We waved at Eric and Morgan and walked to our car. We got in, and I leaned against Peter for warmth and support. We were home five minutes later. Peter carried me from the car to the bed. I was exhausted, and could barely move. He brought me a glass of water and I kissed him goodnight. I felt him climb into bed and wrap his arm around me. I felt warm and safe. I fell asleep. I woke up late the next morning to the smell of coffee. I stumbled out of bed and joined Peter in the kitchen. "Did last night happen?" I asked. "Did this week happen?" Peter handed me a cup of coffee. Black, no sugar. "Check your phone," he said. There were 256 email alerts. I scrolled through the emails. They were all from Eric, who had forwarded the emails which had been sent to him. They were all of me, the photographic record of what I'd done the night before. "Do you feel bad?" asked Peter. "Not bad," I said. "Maybe shocked. Or confused." "Why?" he asked. "I don't think this is who I am. Or maybe I am the person in these photos, and I've never realized it before." "Could you be both?" he asked. "What do you mean?" "We're on vacation, on a tiny island in the Caribbean. Normal people would drink too much. Or gamble. Or maybe head out to a nude beach. But we're not normal." "We have kinks, or a dark side — whatever," he continued. "So when we cut loose, it's more extreme. In New York, you're Kathi — punk rock girl, domme, Brooklynite. In St. Barth, you're someone different, more sexual, more aggressive. But you're still nice, you're still kind — you're just letting go, in a place where it's safe to do so." I drank my coffee. "So I am Nude Girl?" I asked. "Yes, when you want to be," he said. "And no, when you don't." 
"What do you want me to be?" "I don't want you to be anything." he said. "I like all of you. I'll take what you can give me." It was starting to make sense. We had breakfast, packed and headed off to the airport. We checked our luggage and waited for our plane back to St. Maarten. When they called our flight number, Peter and I held hands and walked out of the waiting room and onto the tarmac. I stopped. Peter looked at me. He knew what I had to do. He held my bag, and I unbuttoned my sundress one last time. I was nude again, on the tarmac of a small Caribbean airport. I walked over to the plane in full sight of everyone. I climbed the stairs up to the door. Then I turned around and saluted the island. It had been good to me. I got in the plane and took a seat up front. The pilot did a double-take, and took a picture of me with his phone. Peter sat across the aisle from me. "I'm ready for my dress now," I said. "No more Nude Girl?" he asked. "No more Nude Girl for now," I said. "Maybe later. Maybe. But it's time for me to be Kathi again."