Autumn Postponed - Chapter 2
Author's notes: Palmer's September beach vacation continues, with an unexpected, though not unwelcome, encounter with a couple of "locals."
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Chapter Two
I might have thought the whole thing had been a dream, if in the morning I hadn't found my shorts still on the bedroom chair where I'd flung them, and a raw, sore spot on my dick, the result of the single most fervent masturbation session of my life. I showered and then sat naked on the toilet, rubbing coat after coat of lotion into my cock, which didn't even stiffen fully from the attention. It did rise again, however, after pulling on the shorts I'd worn last night and stepping out onto the deck. Looking down, I saw two sets of footprints in sand leading to, and then away from, the stairs.
Still, my insatiable mind could only wonder if I would ever see Shy and Trey satisfying each other again. Scanning the horizon, I saw nothing but clouds, foreboding a pretty lousy day for splashing in the surf. Still, the breeze felt warm, and I thought I could at least sit on the beach and read, if it didn't rain.
I had a sudden brain storm when I remembered that it was the day before Labor Day. I was able to be at the beach because I was home schooled. How was it that Trey and Shy were also free to vacation when most boys their age would be getting ready for school the next Tuesday? I began to wonder if they were, perhaps, local boys, just enjoying the long weekend at the beach. If so, it was probably a fifty-fifty chance I might see them again.
Going back inside, I dressed and climbed the stairs to the dining room. My parents were up and dressed, siting at the dining room table drinking coffee. They informed me that they were planning to drive to Manteo and do some shopping. I could never understand why adults seemed so intrigued with shopping no matter where they went. Shopping was something I could do at home, and I certainly spent a lot of time at the mall with my friends. I told them I'd rather just stick around the cottage.
After a quick breakfast, I stepped out onto the deck. Of course I looked up the beach to the north, just on the outside chance that I'd see two boys there. Only a few people walked the beach, and they were all much too old to be of any interest to me. The breeze was actually more of a wind really, probably over 10 MPH. The nearly deserted beach and the stiff southerly wind suggested ideal conditions for flying one of my stunt kites.
I went in, told my parents my plan, agreeing to be careful not to hit anyone. I chose a kite and went out to the beach, stripping off my t-shirt and leaving it on a deck chair. The sand felt cool under my feet, but quite dry. The tide must not have been very high during the night. I assembled the kite, lay it on the sand and fed out the lines. Soon, I was veering and swerving my kite in various maneuvers which, to the uninitiated, probably looked pretty impressive, but were really quite simple.
Flying a stunt kite on a public beach required courtesy and vigilance. A fast moving kite could easily injure a passerby if it hit him at speed, and so I was careful to be aware of anyone who might be approaching. At the same time, it took only a momentary distraction to lose control of the kite. Since the wind was out of the southwest, I had no trouble seeing anyone walking down the beach from the north, and could float the kite high above until it's path was again clear. I could only rely on occasional glances over my shoulders to warn me of people approaching from behind. Still, even if someone got past me, the length of the kite's strings gave me time to send it high, letting hover until it was again safe to make it dive toward the sand.
After about forty-five minutes, I had pretty much squeezed as much enjoyment as I could out of kite flying. I drew the kite left until it hovered sideways, and began to lower it into the sand. Just before it touched down, I yanked the right string and the kite spun and landed right-side up, ensuring the wind wouldn't be able to move it while I wrapped the strings around the control handles. Having completed this tedious chore, I turned to walk back toward the cottage.
I wasn't sure if it had happened while I was wrapping the strings or while I was flying the kite, but at some point someone had laid out what looked like a beach blanket not far behind where I'd been standing. As I got closer it quickly became clear that there were two people lying on the beach, not on a blanket, but on separate large beach towels. Another few steps and I could see that they were both boys, more or less my age. Just as I began to wonder, the boy furthest from me sat up, and the wind caught his long hair, swirling it around his head. In a flash I realized I was drawing closer to Trey and Shy, who had chosen to lie on the beach directly in front of our cottage.
In the cloud-diffused sunlight, I could make out much more detail than I could earlier that morning. Shy's hair had clearly been bleached shades lighter from a summer in the sun. He took hold of it with both hands, gathered in behind his head, and then held it with one hand while he used the other to expertly wrap an elastic strap around it, forming it into a ponytail. It was a maneuver I had seen many girls perform many times before. Then he laid back down next to Trey.
I had secured my kite's carrying bag to the beach with a stick I had driven into the sand. The boys were lying only a few feet away from it. As I got closer, I could see both of them even more clearly. Both were slim, which I had already known, but both had nicely developed chests and signs of six-pack abs. Trey's hair was much darker that Shy's, but also showed signs of much sun exposure. He wore long board shorts, but had pulled the legs up, presumably to tan his upper thighs.
After a few more steps I could see that Shy was wearing a tight, skimpy spandex swimsuit, the type worn by competitive swimmers. It explained the tan lines I'd mistaken for underwear earlier that morning. It was a sky blue suit with no stripes or anything. It reminded me of the blue color Superman wore in comic books. From ten feet a way I could make out the bulge formed in the front by his genitals.
I immediately became aware of a swelling in my pants. Fortunately I had worn a pair of cargo shorts, since I hadn't planned to swim until my parents returned later that day. Unfortunately I had not worn any underwear. I quickly reached into my pocket to redirect my cock upwards, knowing it was the best chance of hiding my arousal. By the time I'd managed it, I had reached my kite bag.
I sat on the sand and began to break down my kite so it could be folded and slipped into the bag. I thought maybe I should have said hello or something, but I wasn't sure I could do so without my voice sounding squeaky from nerves. Instead I just sat there fiddling with my kite, stealing the occasional glance across their recumbent bodies. Trey was lying with his hands behind his head. His chest rose and fell with his breath, and his belly was concave, his hip bones sticking up sharply on either side of his abdomen. I suspected that if I had been sitting a bit further up, I could have looked down inside his shorts, into the opening formed by his pelvic bones.
My dick was now at its stiffest as I slid the kite and controls into the bag. As much as I wanted to stay there, I had no chair, no blanket and no towel, so I couldn't just lie on the sand, pretending to work on a tan. So, after one more glance at Shy's clearly defined dick (was it bigger than before?), I stood and turned to walk up the dune to the cottage.
"You're pretty good with that, dude," said a voice beside me. I turned to see Trey, who had rolled onto his side to face me. "You had it long?" He gestured towards the kite bag.
"Oh," I said, trying to force myself to sound casual, "I've had it about three years. But I only ever fly it down here."
"Where ya from?" Shy asked, still lying on his back, his hands folded across his belly, and that oh-so-enticing bulge so pronounced in his tight swimmers. I could actually see that he was circumcised, and imagined he was at least partially erect.
"Pittsburgh," I replied. "Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania," I added, not thinking how stupid it must have sounded. "Where you guys from?"
"We live here," Trey replied. "Well, not here, exactly. We're a few blocks west of the bypass." The bypass was the main four-lane road that stretched from Kitty Hawk in the north through Nags Head further south.
"Cool," I said, still trying to keep control of my voice. "I've never met anyone who lives here. Well, except maybe for people working in the stores and stuff." I wanted to slap my own face for sounding so stupid. I'd always known that people lived on the Outer Banks, and on one previous trip I had even seen school buses on the beach road. Trying to redeem myself, I added, "It must be great living at the beach."
"Yeah, all the tourists think that," Trey chuckled, lying back again. "We still have to go to school, though. Not like we spend all year on the beach."
"Oh, yeah," I replied stupidly. "I guess not. Are you back in school yet?" I asked, fishing for a reason to continue the conversation.
"We start back on Thursday," Shy piped in.
"When do you start back?" Trey asked.
"I'm homeschooled," I replied. "We can go away anytime it works for my parents."
"Weird," Shy snorted.
"S'not," Trey retorted. "Sounds like it could be kinda cool." He rolled onto his side again to face me and said, "So how long you here for?"
"Two weeks," I said. "We just got here yesterday."
"Cool," Trey smiled. "Maybe we can hang out sometime. You ever fly your kite on Jockey's Ridge?"
"No."
"Should try it," Trey said. "Don't have to worry about hitting anyone. Well, unless they're stupid enough to walk under your kite. You have a bike with you?"
"No, I don't," I told him.
"It's pretty far to walk to the dunes," Trey said.
"Maybe my dad would ride me," I offered. "Or us."
"Better with bikes," Shy said, now rolling onto his side as well. "He could use Dakota's."
"That's a thought," Trey said, sitting up now. "We could walk over to Shy's and you could use his brother's bike. It's not too far to walk from here."
"Won't his brother mind?" I asked.
"Naw," Shy shook his head. "He's gone to college. Left last week. You just have to not wreck it or anything."
"I'll try," I smiled. "When should we go?"
"Ought to wait until tomorrow, at least," Trey replied. "Too busy on weekends. I'll check the weather. You have a cell phone? You can gimme your number."
"Sure," I said. We both pulled out our phones, me from a pocket, Trey from a backpack, and we exchanged numbers.
"Oh, what's your name, dude?" Trey chuckled. "I forgot to ask." The thought of exchanging names hadn't even occurred to me, since I'd known their names since 2:30 that morning.
"I'm Palmer," I said.
"I'm Trey and this is Cheyenne," Trey said, pointing to the younger boy.
"Call me Shy," Shy said quickly.
"His parents have an Indian thing," Trey said. "Named him Cheyenne and his brother Dakota."
"Pain in the ass," Shy growled.
"So where you staying?" Trey asked. I smiled to myself, knowing they both knew exactly where I was staying. Still, I decided to play a little game of my own.
"Right there," I said, pointing up at the cottage. "See that window on the far right of the first floor. That's my room." Trying my best to be clandestine, I strained to turn my eyes towards them without turning my head. It was enough for me to see Shy slap Trey on the shoulder, with an "I told you so" look on his face. Another thought crossed my mind. "You guys thirsty? Wanna come up and get a drink or something?"
I could tell that I had managed to catch the local boys off guard. Trey turned to look at Shy, who shrugged and said, "Yeah, that sounds great."
Both boys put on their flip flops, shook the sand off their towels and slung them over their shoulders. Trey picked up his backpack and they followed me across the beach. We all rinsed the sand off our feet, and then climbed the stairs where they had satisfied each other so early that morning. The memory must have been strong for Shy, since there was no longer any doubt in my mind that he was sporting serious wood. I couldn't believe he hadn't carried a pair of shorts to slide on, there being no way for him to hide his arousal in the tight spandex, the only thing between him and being totally naked.
As soon as we entered the cottage and kicked off our flip flops, Shy asked, "Can I use your bathroom?"
"Sure," I said. "Go into my room. There's a bathroom on the left. We'll be upstairs," I said as I watched Shy walk into my bedroom, feeling my own dick pulse as I watched his round, firm buttocks flex as he moved. "Whatda' ya want to drink, Trey?"
Trey and I went upstairs where there was an open floor plan for lounging, cooking and dining. We sat at the kitchen counter drinking soda, talking about the upcoming weather forecast, school, favorites foods, and other such nonsense. It must have been ten minutes before I began to wonder what had happened to Shy.
"Boy," I smirked, "He really had to go, huh?"
"Eh, prob'ly beatin' off," Trey said casually.
"Yeah," I laughed, "Probably. I don't know how he wears those trunks. What would he do if he got a boner?"
"Dude," Trey said incredulously, "He definitely had one! Didn't you see?" He shook his head. "Don't know how you missed it. That's how I know he's beatin' off."
"Seriously?" I asked, equally incredulous. "I thought you were joking."
"Hell no," Trey laughed. "He beats it all the time. He's the horniest kid I know. Probably does it like 5 times a day."
Just then, we heard Shy's bare feet thumping on the stairs. I couldn't help glancing at his crotch, where I could tell that his dick had deflated, but was still clearly defined in the stretchy fabric. I looked at Trey and we both starting laughing.
"What?" Shy asked.
"Nuthin'," Trey answered. "How was your wank?"
"Fuck you," Shy snarled, flipping Trey the bird.
Trey and Shy finished their drinks just as my parents returned. I made introductions and told them about my plans to go to the state park the next day. Trey helped to secure their permission by explaining that we didn't need to bike along the bypass, but could use parallel roads the entire way. We finalized the details, and Trey and Shy said goodbye as I escorted them downstairs to the front door. I sighed deeply watching Shy, wearing nothing but flip flops, a towel around his shoulders and his bright blue speedos, run across the beach road, not self-conscious in the least.
I watched to see which street they would walk down, presuming it would be the shortest route to both their homes. They turned right as soon as they'd crossed the road, and then took the second left, across the road from the public beach access. I suspected that was where they'd crossed onto the beach the night before. Wondering if the seed I hoped I'd planted would bear fruit that night, I made plans to again go to bed early.
That evening my parents and I went out for dinner, returning to the cottage around 7:30. I suppose I might have been preoccupied all evening long, and probably didn't talk to my parents much, or at least not as much as usual. Still I was surprised when my mother asked if I was all right. Despite my assurances that I was fine, she still gave me a concerned sort of mother look, as if doubting my word.
The three of us sat on the upper deck for a time, admiring the bright stars, picking out planets and spotting satellites. We were all amazed how, once again, the reported temperature was 75 degrees, dropping no lower than 72 overnight. I privately hoped that this boded well for the elaborate scheme, known only to me, that replayed in my mind's eye dozens of times that evening, thus explaining my preoccupation during dinner. Finally, claiming to be tired from having spent the afternoon playing around with my new friends, I excused myself, saying I wanted to be rested for the next day's excursion to Jockey's Ridge.