NIGHT BREEZES
Slowly he slipped into the water, his loose shirt billowing out across the gentle waves like seafoam riding the surf. His feet felt the warm sand caressing each toe, and the gentle lapping of the tide caused tingles in his aching loins. He looked up to see the moon, swollen, and dreamt of what that pale, engorged body would do if given life to meet his. As the moon disappeared beneath a scudding cloud, the night grew dimmer, more lonely - more hauntingly beautiful. Soon, however, he heard . . . footsteps, crunching on the sand, coming toward him. He leaned into the shadows of the cove, waiting to see who it was.
Suddenly, around the edge of the cove came a man dressed in nothing more than night breezes and moonlight -- the dappled darkness glistening along the hard length of his body, shining on the engorged evidence of his lust. His eyes glazed as he saw the way the stranger's shaft dipped and bobbed as he walked, unerringly, toward his hiding place. The unknown man stepped into the water and waded toward him.
He could feel himself growing hard, aching -- and from the heat, he knew it was not seawater parting the lips of his shaft to float, faintly silvered, along the eddies of the tide. The stranger reached him, grasping his head in hard, smooth hands and tilting it back, forcing his mouth open to accept the randy tongue, hot from the fires of his passion.
He ran his hands along the muscles of this unknown god's body, reaching between his legs for the throbbing lance of manhood that beckoned. He too was hard, swollen and ready.
He raised himself on his toes, thankful that the water aided his motions.
As he lifted himself in preparation for the penetration, the stranger tore his wet shirt from his shoulders, tasting his neck, his earlobe . . . he looked into silver-grey eyes as he slid onto the engorged shaft -- along the length, easing the ache inside him. His eyes closed as the feeling of fulfillment hit him. He opened his mouth to moist, sweet kisses, the stranger's tongue supporting him as much as his legs and his hands.
They moved in the rhythm primeval, a lustful, wondrous dance of hips and teeth and moans -- both seeking, and giving. Soon, all too soon, he became aware of a building, driving need for release. His breath came in pants and heaves as he clung to the muscular frame in front of him, seeking the ultimate fulfillment - the stranger clenching his waist, tight, gripping as he drove forcefully into his body . . . shaking. His scream of passion tore the night -- he felt the stranger's molten seed pouring into him as he clenched his sheath around the stranger's gift. Holding. Claiming him.
He was held almost tenderly as the tremors passed. As he was settled onto shaky legs upon the sand below the waves, he realized he had not heard the stranger speak.
He moved from his cavern as the stranger walked toward the beach. On the sand, a single glance back, before turning and rounding the dune, just as the moon rose above him, dazzling in its beauty. When he looked again, the stranger was gone. He moaned with release, and with a strange, aching longing. As he left the water, he shivered. He was cold. Night breezes caressed his body, and he looked up, to see the moon.