Two Boys on a Seaside Adventure.

When I was 17, my parents and I went for a fortnight's holiday on the north-east coast of England, where we stayed in a small hotel. My parents were in a double room whilst I was in a single room further along the corridor. As we were settling in, a lad, whom I guessed to be a couple of years younger than I, came to our rooms and asked if we had all we needed. He was a cheery soul, and it turned out he was the proprietor's son, and called Michael. Over the next couple of days, Michael somehow seemed always to be around wherever I was. It gave me much to think about!   Our third day was exceptionally hot, and by mid-day, my folks had had enough and said that after lunch they were going to spend the afternoon in the comfort of their air-conditioned room. After the meal, though, I decided I was going to go for a swim; and so, collecting trunks and a towel, I went downstairs to the main lounge, where I bought myself a cool drink before setting out. With my glass in my hand, I sat down beside the window, looking out towards the sea.   I'd been there little more than a minute when, right on cue, Michael turned up yet again. He grinned broadly and sat beside me. Just to make conversation, I said, “Gosh, is it always as hot as this here?” No, he told me, it quite often rained! He then asked me what I intended to do and I told him I planned to go swimming.   “If you go to the local pool,” he said, “you'll find it's overcrowded with holidaymakers. It always is on hot days like this. You'll not get much of a swim there.” So, I asked him, what ought I to do? “We've got a beach chalet about a mile up the coast,” he replied, “so we could go there.” (I noted with interest his use of the word “we”.) It wasn't usually available to hotel guests, Michael said, but he was sure his parents would let him take me if I was interested, and we could get there by bicycle.   With yet another grin, he told me to wait and he shot off. He was away merely minutes, and then, returning with trunks and a towel, he led me through the hotel and to a large wooden shed at the rear of the building from where we collected bicycles. We mounted these and, yelling, “Follow me!” Michael peddled quickly away.   It took us perhaps twenty minutes to reach the chalet which looked out to sea across a stretch of beach which Michael clearly considered to be his own domain. Taking a key from his pocket, he unlocked the chalet door and invited me in. Looking around, I realised it was more than just a beach chalet because it had a living room, small kitchen and a bedroom, and there were toilet and bathing facilities. He led me through into the bedroom and said, “Let's get changed then,” and proceeded to do just that. I quickly followed his advice, and moments later, wearing only trunks, we ran outside, crossed about fifty yards of deserted beach, and both plunged into the sea.   Together, we swam out a couple of hundred yards into the warm and placid sea (rather unusual on that coast!, and then, treading water, we stopped for breath. I was a strong swimmer myself but I realised, by the way he'd stayed with me, that Michael was too. His usual grin appeared, and he cried, “This is great, isn't it?” and he dived back into the sea; and for the best part of an hour we swam and capered about in the warm water. I couldn't help but notice that Michael seemed to find it especially pleasurable if, during our caperings, we had close bodily contact.   Eventually, we swam back to the shore and, as we stood on the sand, getting our breath back, I realised what a fine looking lad he was. Though he was barely 5 feet tall, he was well made and his skin was tanned – no doubt because he spent time on the beach – and the substantial 'package' in the front of his trunks suggested he'd reached puberty.   At last, after one final swim out into the sea and back again, we decided we'd had enough and so trotted briskly back up the beach to the chalet. Once inside, Michael went into the bedroom while I went into the toilet for a pee. When I'd done that, I took off my trunks, rang the seawater out of them in the sink and, wrapping my towel round my loins, I also went into the bedroom.   Imagine my surprise when I got in there to find him sitting naked on the bed, but with his hands placed obviously and protectively over his penis and testicles. But as usual, Michael was grinning, and I instantly realised that his posture was really only an invitation for me to investigate what he had hidden under his hands. I was a little surprised as he'd made no attempt to show me his assets earlier. However, things began to drop into place in my mind and I realised that his invitation to the chalet for a swim was part of a plan he'd probably had for some days. Crafty kid!   “Hello,” I said, grinning myself and indicating his concealing hands, “and what have we got hidden under there?” “It's a secret,” he replied, “but you can try to discover it if you like!” Happy to play the game, I said, “Well, I'd better do just that!” And I launched myself at him. Still with his hands protectively in place, he immediately curled into a ball and rolled into the middle of the bed, but when I grabbed and tickled him, he, with a squawk, spread wide his arms and legs – and showed me all he'd got, which was a circumcised penis, quite thin, flaccid and attractive, neat testicles, still youthfully pinkish; and all this surmounted by an arc of very black pubic hair, not extensive, but pronounced enough to show that he was into puberty.   For some minutes, we rolled playfully about on the bed, during this encounter I lost my towel, leaving me naked too. But, very gradually, the tickling and horseplay changed to stroking and caressing, and that soon became centred on the sensitive regions between our legs. Without either of us saying anything, our capering evolved into love-making, and soon Michael was in my arms and we were kissing and fondling.   After some minutes of this, I whispered into Michael's ear “Have you ever done this before?” He said, yes, he had, with a friend from school, when they'd had sleepovers together. I have to confess that I was thoroughly aroused, my penis throbbing excitedly between my legs, and was delighted to discover he was no virgin. So, taking him into my arms, I kissed him - ears, face, neck, shoulders, and soon I had my lips firmly on his nipples. He tasted good: 'boyhood' flavoured with the saltiness of the sea! He was quite happy to let me caress and fondle him, and responded willingly to all I did. Soon, I was between his legs, and using lips, tongue and fingers on that 5” of teenage passion which was rigidly pulsating between his thighs.   After some minutes, though, he whispered, “My turn now,” so I let him roll me on to my back and straddled me. I could feel his hard penis pressing on to my body as he leaned forward to kiss me. Just as I had done moments before to him, he now performed on me, gradually working his way down my body until my manhood was getting the lips-and-tongue treatment.   Eventually, though, I rolled him on to his side and took his thin but hard penis between my fingers and began to stroke it. His response was to do the same to me, so we were soon lying side by side and wanking each other as hard as we could. As the rapture began to mount in me, I found myself wondering which of us was going to succumb first.   It was Michael! I felt his penis throb and harden between my fingers, and so, using my weight and greater strength, I rolled him on to his back and said, “Just lie back, Michael, and let it cum.” Without further bidding, he did just that, so I really began to work on him. Inside a couple of minutes, his body suddenly grew tense and he arched his back, and he gasped out loud, then, in a series of spasms, he ejaculated hard, shooting semen on to his belly and chest; and it was quite a creditable amount for one of his years. I made sure he enjoyed every last moment of his orgasm before I stopped rubbing him, and then I let him relax back on to the bed, and I just held him in my arms, gently kissing him.   I, of course, was still thoroughly aroused, and within a short time, realizing this, Michael released himself from my embrace, straddled my thighs and took my rigid, pulsing penis into his right fist, saying as he did so, “You want it hard, don't you?” I indicated that I did want it – VERY hard! And Michael started to work on me in a way which clearly indicated that he knew exactly what “hard” meant. He even knew how to work my foreskin, something he himself didn't possess. At one point, I almost feared he'd wrench my penis from its mooring, but it was so enjoyable that I offered no objections. I just lay back and tried to thrust in rhythm with Michael's endeavours. His efforts quickly bore fruit and a toenail-curling orgasm swept through me, bringing forth a colossal load which landed not only on my body but also on Michael's belly as he leaned forward over me.   He worked on me, as I had on him, until I ran dry and my penis began to shrink. He then rolled on to his back on my left, and I took him in my arms, and there I held him until I'd gained some measure of normality.   After a few more minutes, Michael said, “We're in a rather wet and sticky mess, aren't we?” and without more ado, he slipped off the bed and went into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with a handful of kitchen tissues and, with these, we wiped ourselves dry, and then he settled down again beside me, and we lay for some time in silence. I think, in fact, we were both hovering on the threshold of sleep, something which often happens to me after sexual fulfilment.   Suddenly, however, Michael turned to me and asked, “Have you enjoyed this afternoon?” I assured him I had; and then I asked him why he'd suggested visiting the chalet. To my surprise – and delight! - he replied, “I liked the look of you when you arrived last Saturday afternoon and I wanted to get to know you. I've watched you about the hotel” - which fact I'd noted myself! - “and when you said you wanted to go for a swim, I thought it was my best chance to get to know you. You see, I already know that I'm gay – have done since I was about 11 - and I fancied you rotten!!”   No one, certainly anyone as young as Michael, had ever said anything like that to me before, and to say I was flattered is putting it mildly – and I told him so. I also went on to say that I found him extremely attractive and was delighted that we'd met up and had that afternoon's adventure together.   We lay on the bed for about another twenty minutes, fondling and kissing, and then we went through into the living room where Michael produced two glasses of orange juice which we drank gratefully. As we were drinking, I looked outside and realised that the tide had come in some considerable distance since we'd finish our swim; indeed, it must have been just about high tide as the sea seemed very near.   An idea struck me and so, still naked, I picked up our towels and walked outside, and Michael followed me. Turning to him, I said, “How about a 'skinny dip' before we set off back?” With his usual grin, he cried, “Sure! Let's go!” The sea was a mere ten yards away and so, dropping our towels on to the sea-grass in front of the chalet, we ran across the narrow strip of sand and, for the second time, we plunged into the sea.   We swam out about a hundred yards and there, treading water, we looked back at the shore and saw that the now very narrow beach was still deserted. For some minutes, we splashed around together like a pair of playful dolphins, and then we swam back until we reached shallow water where we stood up. There was still nobody else around and, looking down, we each saw the other was hard again (no doubt the result of the close contact capering we'd just enjoyed in the deeper water) and the expression on Michael's face told me that the idea that had just occurred to me had also just occurred to him.   Standing thigh-deep in the warm water, and without uttering a word, we turned towards each other, and I grasped Michael's penis and he grasped mine. With no preliminaries, we each began to rub the other, and with an energy and intensity that seemed to suggest that wanking was soon to go on restrictive ration!   I was the first to blow this time and, in spite of my earlier orgasm, I managed to shoot a couple of substantial ropes of semen into the sea – and the orgasm was great! It took me another minute of hard rubbing to achieve the same goal for Michael, but the cry he gave as the joy hit him did rather suggest that he found it extremely enjoyable. (OMG, didn't we have stamina at that age?!)   After we were both satisfied, we held each other until we'd got our breath back, and then, after mutually washing away all traces of our ejaculations, we briefly kissed and waded back to the beach with our arms around each other. We walked slowly across the narrow strip of sand, our legs were still somewhat trembly, to the patch of sea-grass in front of the chalet. There we retrieved our towels and wiped each other dry and, after washing the sand off our feet at an outside tap beside the chalet wall, we went back into the bedroom and dressed.   After that, we locked the chalet and began to cycle back to the hotel, and as we rode, Michael asked me what I planned to do that evening after dinner. “Oh, I suppose my folks and I will go for a leisurely stroll along the pier,” I replied, “as it's too hot to do anything more energetic.”   “And after that,” Michael persisted, “after your folks have gone to bed?” I told him I thought I'd probably go back to my room and, very possibly, just read. Whereupon Michael asked, “Do you know how to play Backgammon?” I replied that I'd heard of the game but knew nothing about it.   “Then tonight I could bring my board along to your room and teach you, couldn't I?” I agreed that that seemed a very sound plan. And that's exactly what happened: Michael arrived at my room on the stroke of 9-00pm with his Backgammon board and proceeded to explain the game to me. I have to admit, though, that his tuition didn't last long because we were soon diverted by another 'game' (the very one we'd played that afternoon!) which, by mutual consent, quickly claimed our undivided attention, but that's another tale, and there's neither time nor space to tell it here and now.