Date: Wed, 18 Jul 2001 11:16:10 +0930
From: andrew staker <mallowisious@hotmail.com>
Subject: Beach Encounter

                                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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