I first saw him on the bus walking down the aisle towards me in slow motion, picking the seat right in front of me. I observed with perverse delight, the way his hair fell in half-curls, the lone tiny mole garnishing the back of his neck and the way his muscles changed shape as he turned towards the window. The faint scent of his cologne drove my olfactories wild.
Now, I see him walking towards me on the beach, -- that erotic masterpiece, with his athletic swagger, his quick grin, thumbs hooked through his belt loops.
He stops near me and divests himself of his clothes. As he bends over to drop his watch on the towel, I take in his glutes, hugged by the lycra in his trunks. As he walks away towards the water, the alternating squeeze and relax motion mesmerizes me. I try not to blink, intent on catching every nano-second of the action.
His toes curl as the first wave washes over his feet. I feel a tingling within. He wades in further. The waves lap eagerly at his calves, licking their sinewy contours. He wades in deeper. The water swirls around his thighs, taming the curly black hair, that now cling fast to them.
He takes another step. The tingling within me intensifies as I watch the water graze his groin. The absorbent fibres of his trunk hungrily devour the moisture and the wetness spreads upwards, transforming the trunk into a filmy sheath and heightening the excitement factor of the taunt flesh within.
I hear a splash, and see him disappear beneath the water's surface, only to re-surface again. My mind's viewfinder goes into action, framing his powerful shoulders as they break through the surface, their muscles gleaming in the dusk sunlight.
He plows the waves, powerful legs propelling him through the water. And as he becomes a distant blur, I'm left with un-holy thots of me and him. Undressing and licking and teasing and whispering. Two bodies, fitting like Legos together and screaming in a tangle of sex.
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