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.