@ 27.055 MHz: Ad Astra; Beach Tourists

He had spent all of that bright Saturday

morning on the beach.  Shoeless, shirtless, clad

only in a pair of almost immodest athletic

shorts and white socks (the heels and toes, gray), he

had been tossing his volleyball around, by himself.

Few, if any, even bothered to take notice of

him.  But, at noon, as the heat became a little

extreme, I offered him the shelter of my

highly air conditioned room, the thirst-quench of a

pitcher of ice water with lemon slices, and my

ardently sincere appreciation, expressed in my

embrace.  He graciously accepted all of these

offerings, with a smile both shy and coy.  I

pulled from his body those shorts, and the thong 

beneath them.  Later, with his ankles resting on my

shoulders, a flex of his feet brought them nearer, and

then, right against my face (we were, by that moment, no

longer concern about the inhibitions of prudery or the

prejudice of haters), so that, inhaling deeply, I

enjoyed the fragrances of the sand, the salt water, and the

delicate scent of the sweat from his feet, as my

thrusting accelerated, drawing nearer and nearer to the

peak of intimate pleasure where sweetness is released.


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