All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. Comments on the story are appreciated. None of this is fantasy, but looking back on some of the things I've seen and done it does seem more like fantasy than reality. So to start at the beginning...
I was educated in a British boarding school. After all that has been written about British boarding schools you may be surprised to hear that I didn't encounter any hint of homosexuality. What did happen at frequent intervals were ball fights, usually in the dormitories just before lights-out. One boy passing another would flick his hand out to grab at his crotch. This would lead to instant retaliation, in the struggle they might fall over another boy's bed and he would become embroiled too. Often it would spread quickly until a dozen or more boys would be involved in a swirling mass of bodies. None of this was serious stuff, just high spirits. Occasionally a boy's pants would be pulled down in the struggling, but he was always allowed to pull them up again so I don't really think that any of this had anything to do with homosexuality. We didn't know much about queers, practically nothing in fact, but we knew that they were loathsome.
In the fullness of time I joined the Royal Navy, Fleet Air Arm. At the end of my four year commission I became an airline pilot, first with a small airline, later I joined a national airline, and got married before my 22nd birthday, far too young as I now know. We'd planned for us both to work for a while to get a bit of money saved up and to do a bit of travelling before starting a family, but within weeks my wife was pregnant. Well everything changed. She was sick for the first trimester, the doctor told her that sex would be very risky during the second, and during the third she was so big that sex was both awkward and uncomfortable. And even after the baby was born my wife fed him which meant a lot of wakeful nights and not much sex. Sometime during the second year of virtual celibacy I was on a flight with a two day layover in Tangiers. It was a beautiful day, but I had come without any swimming togs; in Northern Europe in October who would think of swimming togs? It was also a national holiday, the shops were closed, so I couldn't buy any. Looking out from the balcony of my room in the hotel I could see that the beach out front was crowded, but way over to my right the crowds thinned out, and about within a mile or so it was deserted. It was too good a day to waste in the hotel so I set off along the beach. I walked until I had left the crowd behind, then a bit further, then a bit further still to be sure. Feeling very self-conscious I stripped off and ran into the sea. It felt great, there was a bit of surf, not of Hawaiian proportions, but enough for body-surfing. I was already excited when I went in, but the swirling water and millions of bubbles around my cock and balls got me really hard. As I rode in on a wave I could feel my cock being vibrated vigorously by the churning water which carried me right up the beach. Sometimes my prick would be dragged across the sand in the shallows, sometimes I was dumped suddenly on to the hard sand which really hurt. Each ride was just so exciting, I would lie face down on the sand as the wave receded feeling the water rushing past my naked body. I had been in the water about 30 to 40 minutes when a bigger than average wave came by. In the split second between being lifted up and rushing off down the face of the wave I saw a man lying in a hollow scooped out of the sand high up on the beach; he was naked, and watching me. It was just a glimpse, a split second, then the rush of water carried me in. This time I lay there for the longest time, my mind was in a whirl, I don't know why but I really was turned on by the thought that a man had been watching me. I should have just picked up my things and moved further along the beach, but I didn't. After some time, I'm not sure how long, I got up and walked up the beach to where he lay.
He looked up as I approached, not the slightest bit surprised, it was as though he was expecting me. He said something in French and gestured for me to join him. I lay down beside him. Our conversation was limited since he spoke no English, and I only schoolboy French. I found it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying because my heart was pounding and I was feeling a bit light-headed. It must have been obvious that I was nervous, he tried to reassure me and started to massage gently around the base of my neck and my shoulder blades. It felt so good! I knew perfectly well that I was getting into a sexual situation, that I should get up and go, but it was so incredibly sensuous that I just lay there and let it happen. He started at my shoulders, but, little by little, his hand went further down my back, until he was stroking all the way down, over my ass and down the back of my thighs. At first I was very tense, but in the heat of the sun the tension drained away, my hips relaxed under his hands and I felt my balls loosen until they came down on the hot sand. Now the only thing about me that was still tense was my bone hard cock under my body. I knew that I was getting in deeper, but still I didn't move. He must have felt the difference because his fingers started to slide down the crack of my ass instead of over it, and as his hands came up my legs they slid up the inside of my thighs, brushing very lightly against the back of my scrotum. For a while this got me up tight again, but that feeling passed and soon the fingers were probing at my hole and stroking my balls. Although I had relaxed physically, my heart was still racing. A small voice of conscience was saying, "Get up and go," the rest of me was saying, "Let it happen." I was still being torn when he reached between my legs, took hold of my balls and squeezed them gently between his fingers. Actually he didn't squeeze, just took them and closed his fingers around them, but this was too much for me, the cum just flowed out of my balls into the sand. I didn't move, just lay there, the juice flowed and flowed. He didn't realize what had happened, went on fondling, but by now I wanted him to stop. I didn't know how to tell him I had come so I rolled over to show him. He burst out laughing. Just then I saw a group of four Arabs heading not many yards away and heading for the spot where we lay. I lost my nerve, got up and ran to where I had left my clothes, grabbed them and hurried away pulling them on over the cum and the sand as I went.
I didn't stop until I got back to the hotel, but even before I reached the safety of my room I was regretting that I had run away. I thought about what had happened all the way back and by the time I had the door shut behind me I had another raging erection. By now I was really regretting my cowardice, I thought about going back, it was quite a way, but mostly I thought I would look a real fool. Knowing what I do now I am sure he would have been delighted to see me coming back, but I didn't go. Instead I went out on to the balcony and lay down in the warm sun. As the heat soaked into my balls I jerked off fantasizing about what might have happened if I had not come when I did. I wouldn't have seen the Arabs approaching for one thing, and they are definitely into homosexuality. I still wonder what the outcome might have been.
Looking back I honestly can't say how I came to do what I did, nor what was in my mind when I walked up the beach to where the guy lay. When I left the hotel I had no sexual expectations. Yes, skinny dipping is exciting, but not exactly sexual, or at least not from the point of view of having sex as a result. Had I met an attractive woman on the beach I'd very likely have tried to get into conversation, before I'd stripped off that is. Might even have tried to get her into bed, but as to a sexual encounter with a man, it never would have crossed my mind. Yet I must have known as I walked towards him that I was going into a homosexual situation. Certainly he must have thought so, I was naked and I had a full erection as I walked towards him. But I was moving like an automaton, it was as though I had no option, I had to go to him. I might have developed a guilt complex about what I'd done, or perhaps felt ashamed, but on my very next flight I was taken in hand by one of our stewardesses, literally. We had a brief, torrid affair, not a love affair, this was pure, mutual lust. She taught me that sex is neither holy, nor sacred, just a game that adults play. I guess this attitude has saved me from a lot of guilt and recriminations over the years. I didn't try to forget Tangiers, but looking back it seemed to be something that had happened to me rather than something I had done. You might think it even more strange that after this happened I went on with my normal, heterosexual life.
However, a couple of years later I started flying 707's, and having layovers in faraway places, New York City for one. That's where I got turned on by men again... For real this time.
Let me know what you think so far with an e-mail to daprivate12@hotmail.com
David