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Hey Guys
New to posting here in stories. But my first attempt, at describing one of the best days with someone I ever had. True story.
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We walked the cliffs, and the wind was curious about us. It would gust up and around, flirting with my hair. His wide-brimmed hat he held down since it would soon be at the bottom of the cliff if he didn’t. Yet we kept walking. It wasn’t the nicest weather to be heading down to the beach. But I was only here today, and this man said yes to my invitation.
He walked ahead of me, unsure why. I knew the way, and he didn’t. But perhaps I let him. His legs got the sun and the manual work. They were thick and strong on his shorter body. His back would touch his shirt as the wind blew through, a nice arch. He walked, knowing he wanted to be here. And I rarely felt that, so I walked behind.
We talked about his work. He was a gardener. I pointed at plants and asked him their names. He responded immediately; he really was a gardener. We descended into the rainforest, which led from the cliffs to the beach. The green ferns brushed our shorts as the wind had disappeared. There was a certain stillness here. I heard him clearer. He would turn around, his hat covering his brows, and he would grin. His ancestors broke many hearts in Italy, just like he does now. He pulled his hat down further as the sun broke through the trees briefly, his fingernails traced with dirt.
Then we talked about my dog—well, my dead dog. He had dogs, he adopted dogs, and he has fourteen of them. I didn’t believe him; that would have made him crazy. Later, I found out he was telling the truth. For now, we walked down the rocky embankment that led to the beach. His footing gave way, and he reached out in panic. I grabbed his arm and held him up. His arm was strong and warm.
The beach was ready for the storm. I was surprised to see people, as most had escaped up beyond the cliffs to their homes. Yet we had this moment to share, and as the wind wrapped up against us again, a few sprays of rain began.
We wandered through the grass beside the sand, unspoken, yet both looked for a little relief from the wind. The taste of salt in the air thickened as we breathed, mixing with the salt on my own lip. We came upon a little mound of grass and sand and sat down behind it. It sounded like being inside a seashell, quieter than standing up. The droplets still hit us occasionally, with the threat of a downpour near.
I stood back up again. First, I smiled and slid off my shirt. Then, I put my thumb under the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down and off. And last, my undies. I felt my balls feel the wind. He stood there clothed, stepped in, and smiled. He didn’t look around, he didn’t look down, but he remained constantly staring into my eyes. His kind brown eyes got closer, and he kissed me.
I felt his body warmth next to me, his waist against mine, I felt him hard beneath his shorts. I was hard against him, too, out in the open. His rough hands were holding my shoulders, and I reached down and slid his shorts off. His navy briefs were old, tattered, and barely holding his dick in. Dark bushy hair pushed out from his dick that tented, he laughed and let go of the embrace and quickly took off his briefs and then his shirt. A gardener tan, his muscled body. The hair on his belly connected down to his beautiful uncircumcised dick. We kissed again as we both knelt. I pushed him down onto his back and laid on top of him. The rain got heavier. I was cold, but I was kept warm. Who was this man? I am naked on a beach. In the middle of nowhere, with one of the most beautiful men I have ever come across. And he is cradling me, the storm overhead. A storm we rode through in the grass.
I remember tasting the salt in the rain, I lay beside him, stroking. He slid down to admire my manhood. My balls were bouncing, tapping his lips and beard. He looked up and gave me a cheeky smile, slightly poking out his tongue. He mouthed the words “cum”. A rumble in the distance, as I blew onto his stubble. He grinned at me, which got him over the edge too, and quickly met me back up face to face and leaned over me as I felt the warmth of his cum pooling on my belly button. He dropped down onto one arm and we held each other, chuckled and kissed. We didn’t want to leave.
But we would. And walk up the cliffs and get into our separate cars. Away from the beach wilderness, the storm, and any future we reflected in each other's eyes, as we lay there near the roar of the waves.
New to posting here in stories. But my first attempt, at describing one of the best days with someone I ever had. True story.
--------
We walked the cliffs, and the wind was curious about us. It would gust up and around, flirting with my hair. His wide-brimmed hat he held down since it would soon be at the bottom of the cliff if he didn’t. Yet we kept walking. It wasn’t the nicest weather to be heading down to the beach. But I was only here today, and this man said yes to my invitation.
He walked ahead of me, unsure why. I knew the way, and he didn’t. But perhaps I let him. His legs got the sun and the manual work. They were thick and strong on his shorter body. His back would touch his shirt as the wind blew through, a nice arch. He walked, knowing he wanted to be here. And I rarely felt that, so I walked behind.
We talked about his work. He was a gardener. I pointed at plants and asked him their names. He responded immediately; he really was a gardener. We descended into the rainforest, which led from the cliffs to the beach. The green ferns brushed our shorts as the wind had disappeared. There was a certain stillness here. I heard him clearer. He would turn around, his hat covering his brows, and he would grin. His ancestors broke many hearts in Italy, just like he does now. He pulled his hat down further as the sun broke through the trees briefly, his fingernails traced with dirt.
Then we talked about my dog—well, my dead dog. He had dogs, he adopted dogs, and he has fourteen of them. I didn’t believe him; that would have made him crazy. Later, I found out he was telling the truth. For now, we walked down the rocky embankment that led to the beach. His footing gave way, and he reached out in panic. I grabbed his arm and held him up. His arm was strong and warm.
The beach was ready for the storm. I was surprised to see people, as most had escaped up beyond the cliffs to their homes. Yet we had this moment to share, and as the wind wrapped up against us again, a few sprays of rain began.
We wandered through the grass beside the sand, unspoken, yet both looked for a little relief from the wind. The taste of salt in the air thickened as we breathed, mixing with the salt on my own lip. We came upon a little mound of grass and sand and sat down behind it. It sounded like being inside a seashell, quieter than standing up. The droplets still hit us occasionally, with the threat of a downpour near.
I stood back up again. First, I smiled and slid off my shirt. Then, I put my thumb under the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down and off. And last, my undies. I felt my balls feel the wind. He stood there clothed, stepped in, and smiled. He didn’t look around, he didn’t look down, but he remained constantly staring into my eyes. His kind brown eyes got closer, and he kissed me.
I felt his body warmth next to me, his waist against mine, I felt him hard beneath his shorts. I was hard against him, too, out in the open. His rough hands were holding my shoulders, and I reached down and slid his shorts off. His navy briefs were old, tattered, and barely holding his dick in. Dark bushy hair pushed out from his dick that tented, he laughed and let go of the embrace and quickly took off his briefs and then his shirt. A gardener tan, his muscled body. The hair on his belly connected down to his beautiful uncircumcised dick. We kissed again as we both knelt. I pushed him down onto his back and laid on top of him. The rain got heavier. I was cold, but I was kept warm. Who was this man? I am naked on a beach. In the middle of nowhere, with one of the most beautiful men I have ever come across. And he is cradling me, the storm overhead. A storm we rode through in the grass.
I remember tasting the salt in the rain, I lay beside him, stroking. He slid down to admire my manhood. My balls were bouncing, tapping his lips and beard. He looked up and gave me a cheeky smile, slightly poking out his tongue. He mouthed the words “cum”. A rumble in the distance, as I blew onto his stubble. He grinned at me, which got him over the edge too, and quickly met me back up face to face and leaned over me as I felt the warmth of his cum pooling on my belly button. He dropped down onto one arm and we held each other, chuckled and kissed. We didn’t want to leave.
But we would. And walk up the cliffs and get into our separate cars. Away from the beach wilderness, the storm, and any future we reflected in each other's eyes, as we lay there near the roar of the waves.
