Date: Sun, 3 Jun 2018 21:57:18 -0400
From: pensievemind@aol.com
Subject: Autumn Postponed - Chapter Two

Autumn Postponed - Chapter 2

Author's notes: Palmer's September beach vacation continues, with an
unexpected, though not unwelcome, encounter with a couple of "locals."

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Chapter Two

	I might have thought the whole thing had been a dream, if in the
morning I hadn't found my shorts still on the bedroom chair where I'd flung
them, and a raw, sore spot on my dick, the result of the single most
fervent masturbation session of my life.  I showered and then sat naked on
the toilet, rubbing coat after coat of lotion into my cock, which didn't
even stiffen fully from the attention.  It did rise again, however, after
pulling on the shorts I'd worn last night and stepping out onto the deck.
Looking down, I saw two sets of footprints in sand leading to, and then
away from, the stairs.

	Still, my insatiable mind could only wonder if I would ever see Shy
and Trey satisfying each other again.  Scanning the horizon, I saw nothing
but clouds, foreboding a pretty lousy day for splashing in the surf.
Still, the breeze felt warm, and I thought I could at least sit on the
beach and read, if it didn't rain.

	I had a sudden brain storm when I remembered that it was the day
before Labor Day.  I was able to be at the beach because I was home
schooled.  How was it that Trey and Shy were also free to vacation when
most boys their age would be getting ready for school the next Tuesday?  I
began to wonder if they were, perhaps, local boys, just enjoying the long
weekend at the beach.  If so, it was probably a fifty-fifty chance I might
see them again.

	Going back inside, I dressed and climbed the stairs to the dining
room.  My parents were up and dressed, siting at the dining room table
drinking coffee.  They informed me that they were planning to drive to
Manteo and do some shopping.  I could never understand why adults seemed so
intrigued with shopping no matter where they went.  Shopping was something
I could do at home, and I certainly spent a lot of time at the mall with my
friends.  I told them I'd rather just stick around the cottage.

	After a quick breakfast, I stepped out onto the deck.  Of course I
looked up the beach to the north, just on the outside chance that I'd see
two boys there.  Only a few people walked the beach, and they were all much
too old to be of any interest to me.  The breeze was actually more of a
wind really, probably over 10 MPH.  The nearly deserted beach and the stiff
southerly wind suggested ideal conditions for flying one of my stunt kites.

	I went in, told my parents my plan, agreeing to be careful not to
hit anyone.  I chose a kite and went out to the beach, stripping off my
t-shirt and leaving it on a deck chair.  The sand felt cool under my feet,
but quite dry.  The tide must not have been very high during the night.  I
assembled the kite, lay it on the sand and fed out the lines.  Soon, I was
veering and swerving my kite in various maneuvers which, to the
uninitiated, probably looked pretty impressive, but were really quite
simple.

	Flying a stunt kite on a public beach required courtesy and
vigilance.  A fast moving kite could easily injure a passerby if it hit him
at speed, and so I was careful to be aware of anyone who might be
approaching.  At the same time, it took only a momentary distraction to
lose control of the kite.  Since the wind was out of the southwest, I had
no trouble seeing anyone walking down the beach from the north, and could
float the kite high above until it's path was again clear.  I could only
rely on occasional glances over my shoulders to warn me of people
approaching from behind.  Still, even if someone got past me, the length of
the kite's strings gave me time to send it high, letting hover until it was
again safe to make it dive toward the sand.

	After about forty-five minutes, I had pretty much squeezed as much
enjoyment as I could out of kite flying.  I drew the kite left until it
hovered sideways, and began to lower it into the sand. Just before it
touched down, I yanked the right string and the kite spun and landed
right-side up, ensuring the wind wouldn't be able to move it while I
wrapped the strings around the control handles.  Having completed this
tedious chore, I turned to walk back toward the cottage.

	I wasn't sure if it had happened while I was wrapping the strings
or while I was flying the kite, but at some point someone had laid out what
looked like a beach blanket not far behind where I'd been standing.  As I
got closer it quickly became clear that there were two people lying on the
beach, not on a blanket, but on separate large beach towels.  Another few
steps and I could see that they were both boys, more or less my age.  Just
as I began to wonder, the boy furthest from me sat up, and the wind caught
his long hair, swirling it around his head.  In a flash I realized I was
drawing closer to Trey and Shy, who had chosen to lie on the beach directly
in front of our cottage.

	In the cloud-diffused sunlight, I could make out much more detail
than I could earlier that morning.  Shy's hair had clearly been bleached
shades lighter from a summer in the sun.  He took hold of it with both
hands, gathered in behind his head, and then held it with one hand while he
used the other to expertly wrap an elastic strap around it, forming it into
a ponytail.  It was a maneuver I had seen many girls perform many times
before.  Then he laid back down next to Trey.

	I had secured my kite's carrying bag to the beach with a stick I
had driven into the sand.  The boys were lying only a few feet away from
it.  As I got closer, I could see both of them even more clearly.  Both
were slim, which I had already known, but both had nicely developed chests
and signs of six-pack abs.  Trey's hair was much darker that Shy's, but
also showed signs of much sun exposure.  He wore long board shorts, but had
pulled the legs up, presumably to tan his upper thighs.

	After a few more steps I could see that Shy was wearing a tight,
skimpy spandex swimsuit, the type worn by competitive swimmers.  It
explained the tan lines I'd mistaken for underwear earlier that morning.
It was a sky blue suit with no stripes or anything.  It reminded me of the
blue color Superman wore in comic books.  From ten feet a way I could make
out the bulge formed in the front by his genitals.

	I immediately became aware of a swelling in my pants.  Fortunately
I had worn a pair of cargo shorts, since I hadn't planned to swim until my
parents returned later that day.  Unfortunately I had not worn any
underwear.  I quickly reached into my pocket to redirect my cock upwards,
knowing it was the best chance of hiding my arousal.  By the time I'd
managed it, I had reached my kite bag.

	I sat on the sand and began to break down my kite so it could be
folded and slipped into the bag.  I thought maybe I should have said hello
or something, but I wasn't sure I could do so without my voice sounding
squeaky from nerves.  Instead I just sat there fiddling with my kite,
stealing the occasional glance across their recumbent bodies.  Trey was
lying with his hands behind his head.  His chest rose and fell with his
breath, and his belly was concave, his hip bones sticking up sharply on
either side of his abdomen.  I suspected that if I had been sitting a bit
further up, I could have looked down inside his shorts, into the opening
formed by his pelvic bones.

	My dick was now at its stiffest as I slid the kite and controls
into the bag.  As much as I wanted to stay there, I had no chair, no
blanket and no towel, so I couldn't just lie on the sand, pretending to
work on a tan.  So, after one more glance at Shy's clearly defined dick
(was it bigger than before?), I stood and turned to walk up the dune to the
cottage.

	"You're pretty good with that, dude," said a voice beside me.  I
turned to see Trey, who had rolled onto his side to face me.  "You had it
long?"  He gestured towards the kite bag.

	"Oh," I said, trying to force myself to sound casual, "I've had it
about three years.  But I only ever fly it down here."

	"Where ya from?" Shy asked, still lying on his back, his hands
folded across his belly, and that oh-so-enticing bulge so pronounced in his
tight swimmers.  I could actually see that he was circumcised, and imagined
he was at least partially erect.

	"Pittsburgh," I replied.  "Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania," I added, not
thinking how stupid it must have sounded.  "Where you guys from?"

	"We live here," Trey replied.  "Well, not here, exactly.  We're a
few blocks west of the bypass."  The bypass was the main four-lane road
that stretched from Kitty Hawk in the north through Nags Head further
south.

	"Cool," I said, still trying to keep control of my voice.  "I've
never met anyone who lives here.  Well, except maybe for people working in
the stores and stuff."  I wanted to slap my own face for sounding so
stupid.  I'd always known that people lived on the Outer Banks, and on one
previous trip I had even seen school buses on the beach road.  Trying to
redeem myself, I added, "It must be great living at the beach."

	"Yeah, all the tourists think that," Trey chuckled, lying back
again.  "We still have to go to school, though.  Not like we spend all year
on the beach."

	"Oh, yeah," I replied stupidly.  "I guess not.  Are you back in
school yet?" I asked, fishing for a reason to continue the conversation.

	"We start back on Thursday," Shy piped in.

	"When do you start back?" Trey asked.

	"I'm homeschooled," I replied.  "We can go away anytime it works
for my parents."

	"Weird," Shy snorted.

	"S'not," Trey retorted.  "Sounds like it could be kinda cool."  He
rolled onto his side again to face me and said, "So how long you here for?"

	"Two weeks," I said.  "We just got here yesterday."

	"Cool," Trey smiled. "Maybe we can hang out sometime.  You ever fly
your kite on Jockey's Ridge?"

	"No."

	"Should try it," Trey said.  "Don't have to worry about hitting
anyone.  Well, unless they're stupid enough to walk under your kite.  You
have a bike with you?"

	"No, I don't," I told him.

	"It's pretty far to walk to the dunes," Trey said.

	"Maybe my dad would ride me," I offered.  "Or us."

	"Better with bikes," Shy said, now rolling onto his side as well.
"He could use Dakota's."

	"That's a thought," Trey said, sitting up now.  "We could walk over
to Shy's and you could use his brother's bike.  It's not too far to walk
from here."

	"Won't his brother mind?" I asked.

	"Naw," Shy shook his head.  "He's gone to college.  Left last week.
You just have to not wreck it or anything."

	"I'll try," I smiled.  "When should we go?"

	"Ought to wait until tomorrow, at least," Trey replied.  "Too busy
on weekends.  I'll check the weather.  You have a cell phone?  You can
gimme your number."

	"Sure," I said.  We both pulled out our phones, me from a pocket,
Trey from a backpack, and we exchanged numbers.

	"Oh, what's your name, dude?" Trey chuckled.  "I forgot to ask."
The thought of exchanging names hadn't even occurred to me, since I'd known
their names since 2:30 that morning.

	"I'm Palmer," I said.

	"I'm Trey and this is Cheyenne," Trey said, pointing to the younger
boy.

	"Call me Shy," Shy said quickly.

	"His parents have an Indian thing," Trey said.  "Named him Cheyenne
and his brother Dakota."

	"Pain in the ass," Shy growled.

	"So where you staying?" Trey asked.  I smiled to myself, knowing
they both knew exactly where I was staying.  Still, I decided to play a
little game of my own.

	"Right there," I said, pointing up at the cottage.  "See that
window on the far right of the first floor.  That's my room."  Trying my
best to be clandestine, I strained to turn my eyes towards them without
turning my head.  It was enough for me to see Shy slap Trey on the
shoulder, with an "I told you so" look on his face.  Another thought
crossed my mind. "You guys thirsty?  Wanna come up and get a drink or
something?"

	I could tell that I had managed to catch the local boys off guard.
Trey turned to look at Shy, who shrugged and said, "Yeah, that sounds
great."

	Both boys put on their flip flops, shook the sand off their towels
and slung them over their shoulders.  Trey picked up his backpack and they
followed me across the beach.  We all rinsed the sand off our feet, and
then climbed the stairs where they had satisfied each other so early that
morning.  The memory must have been strong for Shy, since there was no
longer any doubt in my mind that he was sporting serious wood.  I couldn't
believe he hadn't carried a pair of shorts to slide on, there being no way
for him to hide his arousal in the tight spandex, the only thing between
him and being totally naked.

	As soon as we entered the cottage and kicked off our flip flops,
Shy asked, "Can I use your bathroom?"

	"Sure," I said.  "Go into my room.  There's a bathroom on the left.
We'll be upstairs," I said as I watched Shy walk into my bedroom, feeling
my own dick pulse as I watched his round, firm buttocks flex as he moved.
"Whatda' ya want to drink, Trey?"

	Trey and I went upstairs where there was an open floor plan for
lounging, cooking and dining.  We sat at the kitchen counter drinking soda,
talking about the upcoming weather forecast, school, favorites foods, and
other such nonsense.  It must have been ten minutes before I began to
wonder what had happened to Shy.

	"Boy," I smirked, "He really had to go, huh?"

	"Eh, prob'ly beatin' off," Trey said casually.

	"Yeah," I laughed, "Probably.  I don't know how he wears those
trunks.  What would he do if he got a boner?"

	"Dude," Trey said incredulously, "He definitely had one!  Didn't
you see?"  He shook his head.  "Don't know how you missed it.  That's how I
know he's beatin' off."

	"Seriously?" I asked, equally incredulous.  "I thought you were
joking."

	"Hell no," Trey laughed.  "He beats it all the time.  He's the
horniest kid I know.  Probably does it like 5 times a day."

	Just then, we heard Shy's bare feet thumping on the stairs.  I
couldn't help glancing at his crotch, where I could tell that his dick had
deflated, but was still clearly defined in the stretchy fabric.  I looked
at Trey and we both starting laughing.

	"What?" Shy asked.

	"Nuthin'," Trey answered.  "How was your wank?"

	"Fuck you," Shy snarled, flipping Trey the bird.

	Trey and Shy finished their drinks just as my parents returned.  I
made introductions and told them about my plans to go to the state park the
next day.  Trey helped to secure their permission by explaining that we
didn't need to bike along the bypass, but could use parallel roads the
entire way.  We finalized the details, and Trey and Shy said goodbye as I
escorted them downstairs to the front door.  I sighed deeply watching Shy,
wearing nothing but flip flops, a towel around his shoulders and his bright
blue speedos, run across the beach road, not self-conscious in the least.

	I watched to see which street they would walk down, presuming it
would be the shortest route to both their homes.  They turned right as soon
as they'd crossed the road, and then took the second left, across the road
from the public beach access.  I suspected that was where they'd crossed
onto the beach the night before.  Wondering if the seed I hoped I'd planted
would bear fruit that night, I made plans to again go to bed early.

	That evening my parents and I went out for dinner, returning to the
cottage around 7:30.  I suppose I might have been preoccupied all evening
long, and probably didn't talk to my parents much, or at least not as much
as usual.  Still I was surprised when my mother asked if I was all right.
Despite my assurances that I was fine, she still gave me a concerned sort
of mother look, as if doubting my word.

	The three of us sat on the upper deck for a time, admiring the
bright stars, picking out planets and spotting satellites.  We were all
amazed how, once again, the reported temperature was 75 degrees, dropping
no lower than 72 overnight.  I privately hoped that this boded well for the
elaborate scheme, known only to me, that replayed in my mind's eye dozens
of times that evening, thus explaining my preoccupation during dinner.
Finally, claiming to be tired from having spent the afternoon playing
around with my new friends, I excused myself, saying I wanted to be rested
for the next day's excursion to Jockey's Ridge.