Beach Encounter

By andrew staker

Published on Jul 18, 2001

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BEACH ENCOUNTER

It being summer, and me being me, I found myself reading some

book--poetry?--by the seaside. It was not Glenelg--too

populated--nor was it nude Maslins--too nude!--that was my kind

of beach at all. No, mon scene was somewhere in between. Like

with most things, my beaches happened to be (or had to be?)

niche.

So there I was, pink pineapple crush and shade and all the

sand-culture paraphernalia--"Get back Nature: let commercial

plastics and metals be my shield against you!"--around me, lazing

under the ozone 'hole'!

Taking a customary break--raising the eyes and viewing non-paper

reality--there was nothing but the happy little bourgeois family

playing in the sand a little down stage left. Much too far away

for me to make out their convo... and who'd want to?

On my next such 'intermission', chance brought my eye to a lone

(and hence rare) sight. Out of the warm, silken water, an ivory

body jutted. Slightly silhouetted by the sun, he turned to me.

His piano-key mouth (minus sharps and flats!) spoke symbolically.

He slid through the sea sensuously. He turned toward the

intangible horizon, his V back straight at me. Such a sight.

He was young: the body perhaps in the process of transformation

from boy to man, but by no way there yet. He swung his sexy arms

round and round, the muscles underneath rolling on his young

bones, the flux of teenage power visible on his taut, tanned

skin.

I could feel the pressure rising. My pathetic Hawaiian shirt (I

had insisted on it) made me feel ten times more emasculated.

Inferiority set in.

He finally turned back and smiled. His darkish hair and blue eyes

were centred on me. His lips never closed, yet he spoke not. His

abdomen was now on show. He slowly, skilfully dove with his back

into the water, tensing his chest and his stomach. He did a

couple of backstrokes and came back to inspect the mystical

effects he knew he would have on me.

He giggled with mischief, brimmed with juvenility. Yet he did not

close the space between us. Nor was it in my power to move. I was

far too sceptical to step. He continued pacing to and fro, the

water cutting off his lower body from his upper precisely at

his slim waist.

I was so curious to know what kind of swimwear he sported. Was he

a Speedo-type or a shorts-type? Was he Speedoboy or

surfie/skatie-boy, like so many other scrumptious muffins at the

malls and beaches?

And so he lolled, like the waves surrounding him. He wooed me

with his siren's hymn. It was fishing in reverse, and I was

hooked. With his slender, tanned finger he called me. I followed

like a fool, without restraint. My manly compass had its bearings

and my legs followed.

The water wrapped itself deliciously around my ankles, then my

knees and finally my waistline. The lad had disappeared into the

water. A darkened, cherry-red area coursed its way through the

blue ocean water. When about a metre away, flesh came to life and

got up. The salty liquid dripped off his satiny hair, his

sky-like, ocean-blue eyes dissolved into the scenery. His lips

were a near-blinding spectacle: rouge vivant.

We looked at each other. He scanned left-right, up-down and

through me, all in apparently one glance. The cute little

corners of his mouth moved: I sure hoped it had been approval. We

looked slyly toward the family. The kids were engrossed in the

sand and water, while the young husband romance (romanced?) his

wifey.

We sank ourselves up to our necks. I could feel his fingers run

across my front. Not too bad. My hand was on his butt. Speedos! I

slipped under and felt around: smooth and bloody tight. My index

finger swiftly ran up and down. At this point, he laughed

boyishly.

"O yeah?" he smirked.

His hand flew home under the front of my swimwear. He felt my

hardening cock. He smiled again. "Mmm," he said. He drew breath

and went under. He sucked my dick. It was the best, most

interesting feeling I had ever had. His finger teased my arse

before it shoved itself home. I moaned slightly. He came up, took

more air, and went back down.

END

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