Alone at the Beach, Part 1

I was desperately alone. Far from everyone I knew. Further still from the one I loved because he was one I never found, never knew.
I walked down to the beach. The sun was setting. Everyone gone. Summer’s warm breath still lingered over the late August sea, moving from the water’s horizon to the western setting sun. I mounted the dunes and scanned the empty beach. Empty? No, there at the water’s edge a silhouetted figure. I moved closer. The figure became clear.
Bright blue shorts, nylon and delicate, caught my eye. The fabric descended from a most narrow waist and curved softly around the firmest buttocks. From there fluttering loosely around golden dark thighs. His legs apart, his arms folded before him. I trembled at the sight.
The breeze seemed to blow stronger and I shivered.

From the waist, a manly back rose upward in a spreading “v” , mounting to the fullness of think rounded shoulders. Only a vision in my mind allowed me to see the depth of his muscled arms that he held before him. At the neck, close cropped thick curls turned upward to the elegant frame of his head.

Suddenly his arms stretched upward. He clenched his fingers hand to hand over his head. He stretched. The waist became even more slender, the chest broader: the most elegantly formed inverted triangle of manhood. Then he turned sideways. Profile.

Was it possible? The noble head and straight nose. The lush curls and small ears. The neck and the mounding chest augmented by the fine tips of small nipples silhouetted in the evening sky. The flattening of the stomach as it moved to the still noticeable blue of his fluttering nylon shorts. And below the waistline, a hesitation, a prominence, a daring thrust outward. The majestic line that moved from the chest and slid downward to the flat and tapered stomach suddenly thrust beyond the linear silhouette. He could not possibly have been erect. No, the mounding was not upward. Yet, it was full, round like an outcrop of mountain stone. Beneath it, the blue nylon trembled around the immensity of his calves, golden copper in the pink of evening and lower still the solidity of his knees above the arabesque or his calves and slender ankles. And the delicate feet rested deeply in wet sand where, from the point at which they joined, cast his reflection in the ebbing mirror of water as it pooled beneath him.

My heart raced to the point of fainting. My stomach collapsed and my lungs sucked for air. Without my realization my cock was hard and pulsing ready at the slightest touch to expel its pent up cum. He turned and saw me. His eye held mine. Was it a second? Was it minutes? I froze.

Again his arms reached up. Again he arched backward with a great sigh.
Then quickly his hands lunged downward toward to band of his shorts, in less than a second he pushed them down to reveal his hair and his cock and his balls then in a flash he flipped them back up and with a confusion of motion and enticement rushed into the water before him.

Had it done this for me? Was this an invitation? Was he being boyishly vulgar exposing himself for that brief second or was he offering to me the beauty of his being?
I watched. He dived into a wave, then rising up and shimmering with wet his back shimmered rose in the setting sunlight, the nylon of his shorts hugged his skin and the roundness of his ass was defined by the cleavage between his cheeks. He dived again and this time when he surfaced the band of his shorts had slipped. The white of his untanned skin gleamed perceptibly and defined the upper half of his rounded ass.

This was for me. This was for me. I knew it. I could not be afraid. I had to take me chance.
Like a madman I dashed into the water. In a single leap I dived beneath the waves and swam underwater breathlessly to reach him.
I surface a few feet away. Water dripping from my hair and my eyes still unclear, I nodded. He returned the greeting. I stepped closer.
“Great water, crystal clear,……. Warm.” I muttered.

“Yeh, I love it in the evening when everyone else is gone”. He answered heartily. He answered. He was speaking to me. There was a connection. I was not imagining.

“the water’s so warm” he continued. “It kind of wraps itself around you. And so clear. Look you can see straight to the bottom.”

“Yes” I managed, still shaken. The beauty before me was unspeakable.
The chest and arms, now glimmering in the slick wetness of the salt water, the eyelashes dripping over the deep set eyes, the curls of the thick hair circling his brow and ears.

“you know” he said, “the one thing that gets in the way is this” and he pulled at his shorts. “I love feeling the water around me, don’t you?”

My heart was ready to burst from my chest. My head reeled in dizziness. My eyes could not remove themselves from his flesh and muscle and sinew.

He grabbed at his shorts, bent over, yanked them down, lifted his legs and pulled them off. He was naked before me. A god descended to the earth. A wave rushed by. It hid his nakedness and pushed me off balance.

The water was calm again. The surface mounted to his pubic line. A few golden brown curls glistened above the surface, just below, a wonderfully full and round and delicate pink white cock floated outward, not yet hard, long of its own but distended by the water.
“Look.” He said, “ My ship’s out floating.” He spread his legs to emphasize the object of his observation.

“Looking for a port?” I asked. (Where did the cleverness come from? I surprised even myself.)

“Could be”, he answered. “You know where it can find some easy docking?”

My eyes met his again. Now, even through the salt and the water his scent filled my nose. I fell before him in the water, up to my neck in the gentle swells. My mouth opened and sucked in that delicate, that thick, that deliciously rich cock still flaccid yet full.

With tongue and lips and breath I pulled and sucked and sucked and pulled the salt of the water intensified my desire. My hands found his legs and worked their way upward across the massiveness of his thighs to the roundness of his ass and then in their maniacal search the found the depth of his ass and plunged their fingers deep and deeper into its dark recess. Within an instant his cock was like an iron rod clothed in soft velvet. Inside its shaft, hard and virile, on the surface soft and tender. Now, it was he who was thrusting. Again and again as my fingers probed deeper and deeper into that heroic ass, his cock pushed and pulled against my lips and tongue and mouth. His hands grabbed my hair. He cupped my head. I felt that enormous tool thrust itself deep into my throat. I felt my fingers ride upward to their knuckles into his ass. I felt my hair being pulled out of their roots, his thighs pressing, pressing against my cheeks. He screamed and lunged forward. The hot come gushed into my mouth and mixed with the ocean’s brine. My lips bit tighter. My lips and nose and chin pressed heavily against the softness of his pubes. We held tight. We did not move. There was a moment of faintness, of ecstasy.

End of part one...