George

Getting down in the sand.

“A beachfront walk, our fingers touching.

“And out onto the sand, so we might disappear into shadows, the bright lights of the seafront a white neon stripe in the distance. On his back then, in the sand, my weight pressing him down, my lips at his mouth, exploring him. Tasting him. I smooth his hair away from his eyes and catch the moonlight glittering there.

“Our bodies wriggle together, hard. To fuck him here would be fine. But we aren’t the only couples kissing in the darkness. I must wait for what I want. But I can straddle him, can’t I? Keep him beneath me as we learn how to connect?

“I can hold him tight and in place, with my hand. Yes, like that. While I slip a finger into his shorts, searching for the button or the zip. Searching for the bulge that presses so firmly against mine. And loosen that button. Slide that zip. Keep his mouth open with my tongue till my cock joins his, rigid in the non-space between us.

“And my hand finds it, then. Pulls at his clothing until his cock finds the air, and slides into the circle of my grasp. The fat carved head of him, hard and heated beneath the circlings of my thumb. The crinkles and crunches of his hair as I slide my hand from balls to tip.

“And his eyes light up. And the other kissing couples disappear into nothing, and there is only us. Two English boys far from home. Two English boys falling into lust.”