Sun and Sand

This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.

The story is copyright 1999 by "Its Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of present, and also the email address of I'd love to receive feedback.


Each year we go on holiday to the same seaside hotel in South Wales, in a popular walled town in Pembrokeshire. Tenby. It's famous for its sandy beaches, safe swimming, caves in the cliffs. I think they are limestone cliffs, because the rocks get all slippery when they are wet, but I'm really not that sure. We stay in a small, family run hotel overlooking the sea, at the top of the cliffs, and stay there for two whole, blissful weeks. We've been going to the same place since I was eight, and this is the seventh year we've stayed here. We know the owners pretty well, and they treat their regulars well, so we've got one of the best rooms, but not the most expensive price. We're there now. It's August, and we are at the end of our stay there.

I guess you've worked out that I'm fifteen. I hate my name. My mum insists on using it in full. Jeremy. Reminds me of the Milky Bar Kid. Weedy with washed out blond hair, spindly legs and arms, knobbly knees, and stupid National Health glasses, and incapable of eating real chocolate. Fancy lumbering me with `Jeremy'! Now just before all you guys called by the same name start getting upset, you can like the name all right. You can be proud of it. I'm the one who hates it, and I hate it because of the way my mum uses it. I'd probably be OK if she thought of me as a tough kid, but she thinks of me as `her little Jeremy', which is so, so well I don't know what it is.

So I call myself `Jerry', which works. Jerry Halcross. A bit of a loner, no brothers, no sisters, just a pet cat to talk to, and we don't take her on holiday. I play tennis, swim, learnt to paddle a canoe last year, and try really hard to be Jerry, not Jeremy, well not the Jeremy my mother sees, anyway.

Oh, yes. I think I'm gay.

I've never said that to anyone before. I've thought it quite often, but I've never actually said it. I'm not sure whether it makes me feel any better about myself, telling you, but I wanted to do it. So I have and I know I can trust you. When I'm sure, then I may tell everyone else, but for now it's just you, and I'd like to keep it that way. Well, apart from Ray, that is.

Yes, apart from Ray.

If you've got the time, I'll tell you about Ray. Well the bits that are important, anyway. If you're my real, true friend, you need to understand me. To understand me, you need to know how I feel about Ray.

He was here last year, in the same hotel, and he was here this year, too. Last year was great. He's about my age, born a couple of months before, but same build, same height,, soft brown hair, and deep brown eyes. You know when you look at a dog's eyes? That colour. So deep you could drown in them. He has a lovely face, the sort that looks at you and you feel that there is no-one else but you in the whole world, cute button nose with a splash of freckles, strong eyebrows, not bushy, but strong, and a perfectly wonderful pair of lips. And the most amazing, long eyelashes you ever saw. It makes him look like a doe, when he looks at you. And do you know the best bit? The cheekiest grin you ever saw, and a laugh like rippling water running over rocks (I got that bit out of a soft girl's' comic, but it's just right for him).

And I love everything about him. I love him. I love Ray.

There, I've said it. It's scary, but I've told you

Last year, we were still kids. We mucked about on the beach. We may have been both fourteen, but we played being younger. Raced, swam, snorkelled, built sandcastles, dug big holes with amazing ramparts around them and waited like King Canute to be washed into the sea, just played like puppies. We wrestled, rolling up and down the beach, we ate ice creams from the van that drives up and down the beach, took boat trips over to Caldy Island where the monastery is, got seasick, got lost. All the usual stuff. Like a pair of brothers, almost like twins. It was great.

And this year was going to be the same.

But it didn't work out that way.

It started that way. But

Oh heck, I've got to tell you, and I don't know where to start. OK, the beginning, but I don't quite know where that is. I mean, I missed Ray all through the winter, all through school. What? Oh it's one of those big `comprehensive' schools, about 1,500 kids, ages 11 to 18, co-ed. I missed having someone to talk to about stuff. Sex, girls, wanking, all that stuff. Someone who wasn't at my school. Someone who wouldn't judge me or make fun of me. Well I said I was a bit of a loner, didn't I?

And I really looked forward to seeing him again, we got on so, so well.

Anyway, we got to the hotel this year. Yes the Buckingham Hotel, just up those steps, and straight across the road. Do stop interrupting! And ray and his family weren't there yet. I checked with the owners to make sure. "They're booked to arrive tomorrow" they told me. So my holiday was going to be great. Ray was coming, we could muck about again, build sandcastles, and talk about stuiff.

So we settled in for the evening. A walk to the old familiar places, down through the town to the harbour, round the castle ruin to the lifeboat station, past St Catherine's Rock with the strange old fort on it, and back to the hotel for supper. Onto the beach in the morning, and back to the hotel for lunch. Ray arrived with his family at about 2 o'clock, and we fell on each other and couldn't stop talking.

"Let's go to the beach," Ray said. "I want to see if it's the same." So we walked down the steps, about a hundred of them, to the narrow strip of sand that the outgoing tide had exposed, and walked to the west, towards Giltar Point all those miles away. It was like coming home. We were both taller, both voices had broken. We'd both filled out a bit, and we teased each other about the new `adult' hair appearing down the fronts of our legs. Before either of knew it, we were wrestling, well tussling, at the water's edge.

"I'm going to get you in!" he teased me.

"You aren't"


"Are not"

And we both fell into the edge of the wash from the waves, and were giggling uncontrollably, and ducked each other under. We weren't wearing street clothes, just bathing stuff, so nothing mattered. Sand, sea and sun, everywhere, two puppies, just a little larger than last year, rolling over and over, arms and legs all entangled.

"Race you to the dunes," he giggled as I sat on his chest.

"Loser gets the ice cream!"

"You're on!"

And we ran up the beach, to the dunes that start after the cliff turns inland, and into the dunes, past the spiky grass along the channels of sand and collapsed out of breath, panting, gasping, and still wrestling. It felt good. Just as good as last year. Freedom, a good friend, sun, sand and sea, and the feeling of two fit, young bodies, struggling to overpower each other, in pure friendship. Wonderful.


Except ... except that that other feeling was there, too.

Did you ever climb ropes in the school gym? Did you get it, too? That odd, squirmy feeling as you climbed, as the rope brushed your crotch through your gym shorts? That `I can't stand it, but I don't want it to stop, what is it?' feeling that stopped you getting to the top of the rope?

That feeling.

But stronger.

And it took my breath away. Don't be daft, of course I knew what it was. I didn't when I was seven, climbing ropes, but I've known for ages. I told you Ray and I talked about sex and wanking and stuff. Look, can you just listen for a bit?

It felt really good, wrestling with Ray, and having that feeling, and starting to get hard, safe that it was all trapped inside pretty tight speedos. It felt good. And that's where I thought it would end. Or rather I didn't think, coz it didn't matter. Anyway, we went back to the hotel, back along the firm sand, back past the ice cream place at the bottom of the ramps where the cliff stopped, and yes, I lost the race, so I bought the ice cream - two 99 Flakes, and we walked back, side by side, chatting about the year we'd spent at school, families, cousins, favourite food, girlfriends.

Ray said he didn't have one. He mumbled a bit. I didn't have one either, but it was no big deal for me. Didn't seem to be one for him either. My dad said that girlfriends take a bit of time, so it didn't matter. Doesn't matter.

Anyway, we got back, and went up to his room. It was either his or mine - we practically lived together last year. Inseparable, they called us then. Trunks were dry by then, so we sat on his bed, and talked away, nineteen to the dozen, all sorts of stuff, you know, Final Fantasy, Resident Evil, Toca 2, all playstation stuff, sitting there, thighs touching, heads together, laughing at jokes that only we understood, talking about teachers and their funny habits, other kids in school, and getting to know each other again.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you," Ray said, looking me in the eyes. "I kept thinking about last summer, and my fair haired, blue eyed friend, and how much fun it was to be with you."

And he put his hand on mine, just briefly.

It felt electric. Not the same as when we'd been wrestling, but a bit of that `rope climbing' feeling. I wanted that hand back, but didn't, couldn't say so, and didn't know why.

"I've missed you, too, you know," I said. I meant to laugh, but I felt suddenly, well, not sad, but emotional. Can't describe it, but the words sort of came out oddly. And his hand came back, but this time onto my chin, and his lips brushed mine.

"I've missed you," he murmured. And then he went bright red. "I, er, I shouldn't, er, didn't mean to... Oh Shit!"


"Oh, Jerry--"

"It's OK"


"We're friends, right?"

"But I kissed you, Jerry, I kissed you, and--"

"It felt good, Ray."


"It felt strange, by good, Ray, just like when we were wrestling in the dunes earlier."

I had the strangest feelings. All out of breath, heart pounding, something not quite right, but everything perfect at the same time, and that tingling feeling, and the feeling that I was about to burst out of my trunks. "I've never kissed before." Madness took hold, Kiss me again, properly, like "

It's hard to talk with a pair of soft lips on yours, and a tongue halfway into your mouth, and I melted as he kissed me, and I put my hands onto his back, and we fell sideways onto the bed, still kissing. His eyes were open, but far away, far away.

We came up for air, panting. I looked at Ray properly for the first time in my life. I mean you look at other kids, but you don't see them, do you? I told you he was beautiful. He took my breath away. I was propped up on an elbow, and he was looking up at me, smiling, and his speedos looked as full as mine felt, but I was worried.

No, not because I was excited by being with him, or because we had kissed each other, or because I had enjoyed it. I was worried because I didn't know what to do next. I wasn't too sure I wanted to, well, you know, er .. Oh this is difficult! Well the only experience of sex I had was with me!



"I, er would you, er, oh heck, hold me, Jerry, please hold me," and those brown eyes looked up at me, and I didn't care suddenly, and I stroked his brown hair out of his face, and stroked his perfect chest, and held him. "I'm scared," he whispered into my ear, "I'm scared of losing you, and I'm scared of me, and I've missed you so much, and I want to learn how to please you, and I don't want to frighten you."

"I'm scared too, Ray, but it feels good. I--I, er, I want to learn with you, but "


"But I don't think that I want your cock up my ass. Things are meant to come out of there, not go in! I need to do something with this, though," and I pointed to my bulging trunks.

"Can I touch you?"

I was so nervous. I'd been naked with him before, but never excited and naked, not with anyone. I hesitated, "if I can touch you."

When I felt his hand just brush the outside of my trunks, I thought I would die. I pressed forwards and pulled backwards at the same time, so sort of stayed where I was, and moved my hand towards Ray's bulge, too, and it felt good, so good I tried to take the trunks off, but they were tied at the waist, and so were mine. We managed in the end. I'd never thought of a cock as beautiful before. Always just a `thing' that you peed through and wanked. Not a thing of beauty.

But Ray's was. It stood bolt upright, curved from the base and long and slim, and darker than his body, with a sort of line underneath it almost like a zip fastener, leading to the tip of his foreskin, all strained over the head, tight, drum tight, with a tracery of veins just visible all over it. And there was a scent about it, musky, special, Ray. And he was telling me how beautiful mine was, too, how he'd been longing to see it, to touch it, to know what it felt like to touch it. And then he did touch it, with his fingertips, between both hands, and so gently, and moved them downwards towards the base, stretching my own foreskin open, down and over the head. And he bent to it, and kissed the tip of my cock with his lips. With his lips.

And it was the most gentle, strong, vicious, wonderful feeling I've ever had. I don't know how he knew to do it, but he did, and I touched his hair, and was in heaven, but there was more, and I nearly died as he opened his lips and softly took my cock into his mouth, and then he released it and said "Touch mine, please touch mine", and in a dream we sort of shuffled so that I could touch him and he could touch me. And I matched him, lick for lick, kiss for kiss. As he made me feel so special, I did the same for him, sucking, licking stroking, pulling squeezing, smelling his scent, feeling his cockhead in my mouth, licking the shaft of his beautiful boyhood, feeling him tense and swell, and hearing him gasp and cry out and feeling my mouth fill, flood with him as he came, and not knowing whether to spit it out, I swallowed, and tensed as he sucked so hard it made me cum into his mouth, filling him, making his splutter, and choke a little. It felt so good.

"Ray ."

"Jerry, I've missed you so much ."

"Ray I think you're beautiful."

"I love you, Jerry."

"Hold me, Ray, Just Hold me"

We spent the rest of the afternoon just holding each other, sometimes weeping for joy, still scared, each losing his virginity to the other, each wondering why, how "

"Jerry, we've the whole holiday to discover each other."

And we did, and I love him, and next weekend I'm going to stay with him at his parents' home. But I had to tell someone.