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I love the beach. There's a famous one in my city that's always packed during the summer. It's the only nude beach within the city, where cops won't bother you for drinking openly or having sex. Every young person has to go at least once, even to say you've done it.

 

Hot sands and a gorgeous view, complete with nude tanners and people offering mushrooms chocolates. Hippy musicians play music in the distance, and there's a kebab stand set up by the shore. Vendors sell trinkets and loose clothes, and there's always a guy selling boozy freezies wearing nothing but his sandals and a portable cooler.  

I go down there with my boyfriend Jamie and friend Rachel. By the time we reach the entrance to the forest, we're already a bit tipsy. We mixed up frozen juice and vodkas into jars and toted them in cooler bags. I pass porta potties at the entrance, and wrinkle my nose. It stinks even from this distance. 

It's a long walk down to the beach. The trail is well trod and maintained, but every time I go I forget how many steps there are. There are groups ahead and behind us, and every so often we pass someone red-faced and puffing as they make the climb back to the top. 

Finally, we reach the bottom, just as my thighs start to burn. Jamie slings off his bag, handing it to me. 

 

"You guys find a spot to sit. All that beer is running through me!" With that, he stumbles over loose sand, following a sign where the bathrooms are. Rachel turns to me and shrugs. "Let's find a spot by the rocks," she suggests, "fewer people over there." 

I take a look at the options. There's a spot by huge driftwood logs towards the trail, partially in the shade. There's the rocky area, out by the far side of the beach. The sandy area is packed, but it's also in full sun right by the waves. 

 

Should I:

A) Follow Jamie to the bathrooms

B) Sit by the rocky area

C) Sit by the driftwood

D) Sit by the sandy area 

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Thanks everyone! B it is.

 

I nod at her. "Good idea. It'll be nice to have some shade once it gets hotter."

We set up by the rocks, laying out a big blanket on a spot without too many lumps. I kick off my shoes and dig out another jar of our drink. Rachel does the same. By the exaggerated sway of her movements I can tell she's a bit drunk already. 

 

"Happy summer!" I declare, reaching my glass outwards. Rachel laughs.

 

"Happy summer to you, too!" We cheer. She leans back to pull off her shorts and panties in one go. "Are you gonna get naked?" 

 

"Nah," I try not to stare as she lifts her bikini top over her head. Her tiny tits were mesmerizing, but I forced my gaze to the sand. I didn't want to be a creep.

"Oh come on!" She goads. "We're so far from everyone else!" 

"I have to be way more drunk to have my pussy out." I wasn't as brave as Rachel. She had already laid back with spread legs. 

"But this year I can finally go bare chested." I slid off my shirt, gesturing to faded top scars.

"Oh I didn't know you couldn't."

"Yeah. You can't have any sun on the scars for like a year." 

"What's taking Jamie so long?" I can feel my bladder filling up, but it's not urgent yet. I take another long swig of my drink. The sun warms my skin, and the breeze is perfect.

Rachel shrugs. "I don't know, but he's gonna miss shots. Want one?" She pulls out a mickey of cheap tequila, and some plastic dollar store shot glasses. I grin when I see it. I had completely forgotten she'd brought them.

 

A) take the shot

B) wait for Jamie to come back

C) let's have water instead

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  • 1 month later...

"He can catch up to us later," I say as I grab the glass. We cheers, throwing it back. My eyes water as it burns all the way down my throat. I unscrew the jar to my slushie to chase it. 

Rachel breaks out into a coughing fit, causing me to laugh. Rachel has never managed shots well.

With my laughter, I feel my bladder loosen and leak. I panic and clench my muscles shut. I really should use the bathroom soon. I can feel the pressure building, and another laughing fit would definitely cause me to leak even more.

Unaware of my dilemma, Rachel is still wheezing from her shot.

"Are you dying?" I tease her, and offer my slushie. She flips me off, but takes a few sips. 

"Nooo!" She dramatically gestures to her crotch, "this trash liquor made me piss!" Sure enough, there's a  damp spot the size of an orange between her legs. She doesn't look very embarrassed about it. But then again, she is pretty drunk. 

"Let's go to the bathroom. I gotta pee too." I don't mention the damp patch on my boxers, too embarrassed to say anything. I've had a weak bladder pretty much all my life, but it got significantly worse after a hysterectomy. It was supposed to go away after a few months, but apparently some people lose bladder control for a year and a bit post-surgery. 

It got to the point where I had to start wearing protection to bed, especially after drinking. Just thinking about it makes my cheeks burn red. Rachel didn't know about my bladder troubles. 

I look towards the bathrooms. All our stuff is with us, and I don't want to risk leaving it unattended. 

A. Wait until Jaime returns 

B. Insist on going first

C. Let Rachel go first 

 

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