With the move to Cloister Abbey almost complete, my manservant Clive and I took to the beach in order to rest and enjoy a day away from the toil and sweat of unpacking boxes and putting things in their place. There’s nothing like burying one’s feet in the sand and allowing the sound of the ocean crashing on shore to lull one to a well deserved time out. I love the beach! Swimming naked in the ocean is a favorite past time. The feeling of sun and water against my skin is revitalizing; I always come home feeling energized and lusty after a dip and swim in the Atlantic.
All around us, naked men display their tanned cocks and balls to anyone (everyone, really) who’ll take notice. Some inch closer to get a better look, risking a lifeguard’s disapproving whistle blow for breaking the six feet apart rule enforced in public areas. Others, discretely, fondle and pleasure themselves for onlookers to enjoy while taking inviting side glances at neighbors who pretend not to stare while sprawled on their blankets. It’s nice to see men, in all their forms and shapes, enjoying themselves, making connections, hoping for a lingering stare that reminds them of how things used to be. I miss frisky swimmers who made their way out to the sandbars where they played fish and Marco Polo with willing bait. I also miss thong tan lines and bulging, white Speedos that left nothing to the imagination and fueled titillating fantasies about the boys of summer.
I can spend full days at the beach! Embraced by sun and warmth, salty seamen and mermen, pressing my cock and balls deep into the sand while spread out on a wide blanket admiring and being admired — such is the stuff summer memories are made of. Such are what my fantasies are born of.
Come, swim with me!