Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Tiny Tale Tuesday: St. Marian Beach

The sun crept over the horizon, painting vermilion and ochre over the rising and swelling sea. I checked my phone: six AM. St. Marian Beach was just opening. I know it wasn't exactly the same thing as a public place, but baby steps. Even if I was alone, and probably would be for at least half an hour, my heart stamped against my ribcage. I sighed, watching the water. The longer I waited, the more likely someone was to actually wander in and see me.

Without giving myself any more time to change my mind, I dropped my swim trunks down around my ankles. The warm breeze blew across the ocean, sliding between my legs. I nodded to no one and lay down.

Sand wriggled into the cracks and creases of my body. I felt the tiny grains work up into my crack, mingling with nervous sweat. I pressed a finger against my hole. Tiny spasms of discomfort snaked up my spine as I worked deeper into the folds and crevices of heat. The fingers of my other hand curled around my shaft, tightening. I could feel the tiny, thrumming pulse of my cock against my palm.

I twisted my finger inside myself, massaging the tender flesh. So much heat, so much feeling. A moan sneaked past my lips, then another, louder. The sensation built in my gut, electricity and pressure. It crackled across my skin, filling me, stiffening my cock.

I bucked up my hips and my finger pressed against that spot. It lanced up, heat and lightning swirling up, filling my balls with raw power. This moan, I had no hope of stopping. It didn't sneak out. It thrust itself forward. My back drew up off the sand. The breeze may have been warm, but it cooled the sweat along my spine. My calves and thighs shivered, supporting my weight even as my body numbed, as the energy built to a peak. My body, tight, forced it out, white and hot and pungent. It mingled with the smell of the sea, the fish and salt and my own sweat and come. It filled my nose.

I sighed as I lowered back into the sand. It conformed to my limp weight, hugging me. On the ocean, vermilion had faded to rose pink, ochre to peach. I wiped my hands off on the sand, then sat up.

Someone else was there. Long body, short black hair, white Speedo. My body turned frigid, save for the wash of heat in my cheeks. I looked away, but couldn't resist glancing back.

He nodded and winked, then pulled his swimsuit down, flashing a half-hard cock and a neat triangle of curly bush. He cocked his head over his shoulder toward the canvas dressing rooms. "Need to change?" he shouted.

I nodded and stood up, covering myself with my wadded up swim trunks. What did I have to hide? It wouldn't stay secret for long.

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