The beach

The sea below the hotel sparkled like a carpet of gemstones. The concierge had said an hour spent in the waves was more comfortable than a lifetime spent in a palace, and as she descended to the beach Shauna admitted it could be more than false modesty.

And speaking of modesty, she'd arrived overdressed. Her black monokini, the halter straps climbing between her exposed breasts, was grounds for a national emergency in England, but the men and the women here seemed to cover their sexes begrudgingly. Soon she saw why. An Asian gentleman with extensive tattoos across his back carried a Scandinavian-looking woman to the water, impaling her on his hard cock with every step. The dress code, she realized, waving at a coupling Spanish couple who did not extend her the same invitation to join them they did to others, was that any scrap of clothing indicated a desire merely to swim or sunbathe or enjoy the day. Nudity showed you were looking to get hot.

The grit of the sand briefly kept her focused. She clenched it between her toes, but the wind picked up, and the smell of sex mingled with the heat of the sun to make her head spin. You have a mission, she thought. Keep it together. Up the beach, away from the throngs, a rocky outcropping cast its long shadow, and she settled her towel beneath it.

Shauna watched from afar. Waves lapped at men's balls as they fucked in the sea, and sand concealed the women's chests, falsely modest by accident, as they were plowed from behind. And then everyone else, almost equally naked but unconcerned with the unfolding depravity, stepping over the writhing bodies as if they were driftwood. By now she was quite sure she was soaking through her monokini, but... oh, the hell with it. She raked her fingers across her breast and twisted the nipple. She'd be useless if she couldn't calm herself down.

Shauna moaned with the release of her nipple, and dimly she noticed someone on a nearby towel shift around to look at her.

“My, my. Are those Agent Wren's tits I see?”