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Tropical sands
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
This story is another from the archives, and is not written by me.
Requests for just about anything concerning these posts will be ignored.
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TROPICAL SANDS
Yesterday, the thoughts of another cold and bleak winter day
filled my head and today, those thoughts were only memories. In
just a few hours I would be sucking up sun and feeling sand
between my toes, running along virgin stretches of beach and
swimming among the corals of some tropical lagoon.
As the hands on my watch seemed to move more and more quickly, I
felt the excitement building inside me - not an entirely
unpleasant feeling, somewhat like having a jar of butterflies in
one's stomach. The images of a soon to be tanned body filled my
head. Not long now. What would be first on my list of things to
do? Perhaps a stroll along the beach, the water nipping at my
heels. Perhaps a trip into town to check out the locals. Maybe I
would just check in at the hotel and lie down, get rested and
then fall into that seemingly age-old routine - cruising. One
thing was for sure, the choice was mine, entirely mine.
"Coffee, sir?", came a pleasant masculine voice.
"Yes, please. Double cream, thanks", I replied, matching his
definitely friendly tone.
"One coffee, double cream, coming right up!"
There was nothing but chuckling to be heard inside my head.
Straight guys can be so nice some times. Sigh!
"Sir...", he returned, "your coffee."
"Thank you. I sure hope drinking this relaxes me a bit!", I
jested, half trying to start conversation and half knowing that
it would do me no good.
"Can I bring you something else? Perhaps a sandwich?"
His tone was undeniably friendly, yet there was now evidence of
flight school training. It's all commerce and that was painfully
obvious now. I guess in the recesses of my mind, I really knew
that this guy was as straight as an arrow but there's always that
one hope, that one thin strand of thread, that one straw to
clutch on to. Every time I met someone new, there were always the
same thoughts filling my head. Is he? Is he? No. Probably not.
But maybe if I put my arm around him and get really chummy he
will crack allowing me a glance at those well guarded feelings.
Then I shake my head and wrestle free of these puny thoughts.
"No thanks. The coffee will do me just fine", I said in a now
rather cooled voice. "How long before we land?"
"About 15 minutes. The captain will be just now commencing final
approach. You should hear an announcement in a few moments."
"Thanks."
His duty to me finished, he strolled further along the aisle. I
heard the same tone of voice as he asked a young woman if she'd
like some coffee. Amazingly enough, her eyes grew as she replied
with affirmative gestures. It was quite funny, but I knew that
she probably had more of a chance at him then I did anyway.
Just then, dull rumblings came from outside as the plane was
maneuvered into its landing stance. A burst of static filled the
cabin, shortly thereafter, waning to support the captain's voice.
"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain,
Elizabeth J. MacKenzie. On behalf of Can-Air and our crew, I
would like to thank you for flying with us. We are currently on
our final approach and will reach the terminal in about 10
minutes. Please refrain from smoking and remain seated until the
plane comes to a full stop. Have a pleasant holiday. Bonjour
mesdames et mesieurs...."
As the Captain's message continued in French, I craned to see the
island taking shape below us. It looked like a giant crab, claws
out-stretched into a sea of blue, more shades than I had ever
thought possible for water. Just below, I could see the airport,
with runways in several directions, some of them appearing to
pave themselves right off the island and into the water. I began
to compose myself and reached under the seat infront of me for my
carry on. It was then that I felt a little bump and heard the
planes engines whir into full reverse thrust, tires screaming at
the pavement.
Not long after, I had risen from my seat and was joining the
queue to leave the plane. A rush of air came past me; a welcomed
refreshment it was, moist and warm and as I examined it more, I
could almost taste the salt in it. Definitely, it was not the air
one would inhale in the dry southwestern Ontario I had left. The
queue swayed left and right as it snaked its way along to the
front of the plane. There, two of the stewardesses were
delivering their final programmed farewells.
When I finally reached the exit, and was properly greeted by the
crew, I descended the stairs, my head towards the sun I would
soon be worshipping. Everything was so bright. Sand everywhere,
like the whole place was just some big sand pit inviting everyone
to play in it. That's the feeling I got and from the smiles on
everyone's face, it was obvious that they felt the same. Play
time was here at long last.
It took a short time to clear customs. Thank goodness they had
not decided to personally inspect my baggage. I hate having
strangers invade my personal effects, and I could just picture
them holding up a pair of my under shorts and asking me where I
got them or something equally embarrassing.
A taxi rolled up. The driver popped out and rushed my bags into
the trunk then hurried without a breathe to open the door for me.
This placed was starting to get a little unbelieveable. I mean,
where in the hell can you go these days where a cabbie will open
the door to his cab for you? Especially if you are a man. Men
have always been expected to open their own doors, but it was
nice, just the same. I was definitely going to enjoy this
vacation.
The driver was already back in place and pulling away from the
curb by the time I gotten seated, comfortable and turned my head
forward away from the concrete of the airport.
"The Sands Hotel please", I paused, then thinking about it a bit
more, "and...take the scenic route if you would."
This could be a chance to see the place, en route to the hotel
anyway. I wouldn't have to expend any energy and I was already
getting quite tired. Jet lag never hits you until you start
getting on in years.
Palm tree after palm tree, beach after beach, the road wound its
way up from the shore and into the densely forested hills. The
wind flowed through my hair making eddies that played tricks on
my spine. Every now and then, a chill ran down me from top to
bottom, just ever so slight a quiver, and I peered up then at the
sun reassuring myself that it was still there. Some sight-seeing
route, not much to see but sand, sky and dense, virgin jungle-
like vegetation.
The car had slowed and turned to meet the approaching curb
near a rather ornate entrance way. As I poised to reach the door,
the doorman was there, opening it and inviting me out. He was a
hulk of a man, at least six feet three inches in height with a
mass of chest that could choke even the most aspiring of
bodybuilders. His hair was blonde, bleached by the constant sun,
and shoulder length, yet neat and well groomed, as was the rest
of him. His face was gorgeously bronzed, and as he smiled, the
contrasting white of his teeth added to an exquisite and quite
breath-taking view.
Maybe he would carry my bags to my room for me and come in for a
little drink or something. But the place was too ritzy to have
only a doorman, and once inside, bellhops rushed him for my
luggage. The smile fading from my face and my head filling with
impure thoughts, I watched as he turned and glided towards his
post. At least I'd had the foresight to glance at his name badge
- Perry.
The decor of the place was very elaborate yet welcoming to say
the least. The ceiling of the lobby was domed supporting a huge
chandelier and many intricate brass fixtures. The main desk was
wooden, and on a closer examination, I discovered it to be
cherry, and very, very expensive. The ends were capped with
leather, matching a very elegant porters chair off to one side.
Before I had a chance to ring the bell, there was already writing
going on and keys being pulled for me, setting the scenes for a
most definitely good stay.
The thoughts of lying down on the beach under the sun were more
than I could bear, tired as I was. Going back to the ocean side
would also allow me another look at that bull of a doorman. The
thought occurred to me to ask him down to the beach or maybe to
give me a tour of the island. I'm sure there are some very remote
spots I would be interested in seeing, especially with him!
But, alas, when I exited, I saw no sign of him. Perhaps he had
just finished his shift, or maybe he was helping yet another
guest to settle in.
The lure of the sun abated my quest and turned my thoughts to the
beckoning sandy white beach in back of the hotel. It was such a
gorgeous scene - even if it was quit void of men - with tall,
windswept palms, beautifully green tropical bushes and here and
there, a crest of grass along the dunes.
The water was warm and inviting, so off went the t-shirt and down
came the shorts. I was knee deep in the surf and enjoying the sun
immensely before the feeling came that I was not alone. Looking
about I saw no one, but that feeling was there and irrevocable.
Well...if they want to gawk, let 'em. I'm here to have a great
time and that's what I am going to do.
The surf caught me off guard and a wave against my back swept me
over, face first into the sandy mud. I would have afforded much
energy to righting myself, but at the time it seemed unimportant,
and I simply rolled to my back. The water was shallow enough to
allow me to just lie there with an occasional effort to hold my
breathe for the big waves.
When I'd finally decided to look up and notice the surroundings
having fully gorged myself on the warmth of the sun and hugging
advances of each wave, I noticed a silhouetted figure in the
distance, sitting and set out against the dunes. From my vantage
it was not possible for me to discern just who it was, but the
figure was definitely male, and quite possibly good-looking.
Enough. I raised myself from my watery bed, muscled up onto the
beach and grabbed for my towel. Sand filled my hand. Where once
was a towel, there was nothing but sand. In fact, my shorts and
t-shirt were gone also. When I looked about to see where they had
possibly gotten too, I saw that same figure set out against the
dunes, beckoning me closer.
The wind ebbed and a wave came about my feet. As I walked I left
water-filled footprints in the warm, white sand. The man, and
indeed it was a man, became more and more shapely with every
step. Step after step after step and then, before I knew it, I
was running. And in the distance, this man grew stronger and
stronger with every detail I was willing to lend.
My shorts were there. My t-shirt, in a pile off to one side, was
draped with sand and my towel lay partly exposed under his
muscled, bronze physique. I tugged at it gently, hoping to
retrieve it and be on my way and also trying desperately to hope
for something more. Why had he taken my clothes in the first
place? They surely could not have blown here for the wind was not
strong at all.
The towel suddenly became unimportant to me and I dropped to my
knees at his side. He lay in a very awkward position, perhaps
a standing invitation to me to alleviate his predicament. I was
now convinced that my clothes had been deliberately taken and he
was my one and only suspect, caught red-handed with the evidence.
The shade of the dune made an interesting bedroom and I wondered
at that moment just what I could expect. I took the time to give
more substance to his form.
His hair was golden blonde, falling down to his shoulders. And
oh, the shoulders, broad, each with a distinct array of muscle,
giving his back a definite butterfly shape. With a hand I wanted
to follow the curves of his back but I dared not. With eyes, I
went on, exploring the most intimate of places, right down to his
toes and then back up again for a second helping.
It was altogether too dim to see just who this guy was, after
all, he was rather face down and quite vulnerable. Sometime had
elapsed before I'd made any attempt at communicating, but it was
something that was imminent, and in a somewhat broken tone at
first, I began.
"You didn't happen to notice how my clothes got here did you?
And, by the way, I believe that you are lying on my towel", the
raucous words being drowned and smoothed some by the pounding
surf.
"Funny. I think I took them. They were just lying on the beach. I
didn't see anyone around. They're yours? Then you must want them
back, of course", came his reply, but with such coolness that the
words were anything but an elegant attempt at a line.
"Well...maybe you didn't see me...but what the hell do you think
you're doing now, lying here in the middle of my clothes?" With
this I had made a definite attempt to make him fumble and quit
the little game.
"I thought anyone could plainly see that I was masturbating," he
grumbled, gruffly, "but then, I can see that you aren't just
anyone." With that, he turned slightly, raising his head from his
arm rest, putting me in full view.
It was Perry. The thought of it made my heart pound and I was
sure that even he would hear over the surf. I felt a ball forming
in my throat and my mood became silly, like a school boy finding
girls for the first time. Only this was a man....no, more than
that, it was Perry.
Well, it was painfully obvious that he was of course gay. This
whole resort was gay in fact, and I couldn't see them making a
name for themselves in the resort business with an all straight
staff. Thank goodness they had at least that much foresight! And
then thank them again for hiring Perry.
He turned even further, revealing his wonderfully rippled
stomach, which was in itself an eye full, not to mention what lay
beneath. His bikini hung low in the front and from its border
protruded a rather nice sight. I'd caught him right in the middle
of something, something I wouldn't mind joining in on. Before I
could take another breathe, my stance changed from annoyed to one
conveying a little more passivity. A hand found its mark at my
shoulder and I pivoted forward to land on top of him.
He rolled and I found myself peering up, over the line of his
well developed chest. I'd found his eyes after a momentary
distraction. Blue, of course, with a depth matching the waters of
the pounding surf, and as equally breathe-taking. I placed a hand
at his back, and began that journey, upon which, moments before,
only eyes were permitted. Now I grabbed at every inch of flesh,
letting gravity pull my hand down until it rested firmly on his
cheeks.
With an almost convulsive action, I grabbed a handful, with
immediate results from Perry. His head cocked back, like a gun
being readied for the firing, and with as much force, it came
down, finding my shoulder, his tongue finding an ear. I groaned.
The thoughts of him I'd had earlier in the day now became a game
plan and I wasn't about to let him miss bringing a single one to
life.
The towel, slightly moistened by the sweat of his bulk, filled my
face and I made every attempt to eat it. I was so enveloped in
the passion of the moment and my little mental pictures that I
could do little more than just lie there at his mercy. This did
not hinder him in the least. Immediately, he began my mental
task, taking ever effort to sew my imagined fabric with the most
intricate of threads.
The undulating of his body atop me was not unlike the warmth of
the pounding surf I had just left. Sweet kisses on my earlobe
made me scream with pleasure and I grabbed at his ass even more,
forcing him down on me with much co-operation. I knew in moments
that I would be far beyond any attempts at rhythm. He'd be making
the man out of me I'd hoped to become.
Without so much as a peep, I came, each spasm making me grab at
him more. With my stomach, I could feel the strength of his whole
body as it gently continued, heaving and arching. I felt one last
puff of breathe in my ear and a tongue retreating, expecting some
sudden fury. Moments later, I felt new warmth at my stomach. I
could not contain my joy and moaned approvingly at Perry, whose
excitement had certainly peaked as well. I pulled him close, not
wanting to miss anything he was offering me then. I had him. All
of him.
To say that it was not an exhausting experience would have been
foolish. It was something that was obvious to even the most inane
of observers, if there had been any. We just lay there, on the
sand, reassuring each other that everything was as fantastic as
we had each thought. I must be dreaming, then an arm out of
nowhere grabs me, I turn to see Perry, and the clouds disappear
instantly. No, I'm not dreaming!
Oh! And to think that this was only my first day. What a sin to
even think that. I was sure hoping it would not be my last day,
but in a sense, I didn't really care.
--
I will ignore all requests for: reposts, e-mailing parts, ftp/gif/archive
sites, and subscription requests. These stories get deleted immediately after
they are posted. For more info on the ARCHIVE postings, read the FAQ posted
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