Date: Sun, 03 Sep 2006 14:03:27 -0700
From: David Andrew <daprivate12@hotmail.com>
Subject: Tangiers Beach

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any
means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author.
Comments on the story are appreciated. None of this is fantasy, but looking
back on some of the things I've seen and done it does seem more like fantasy
than reality. So to start at the beginning...

I was educated in a British boarding school. After all that has been written
about British boarding schools you may be surprised to hear that I didn't
encounter any hint of homosexuality. What did happen at frequent intervals
were ball fights, usually in the dormitories just before lights-out. One boy
passing another would flick his hand out to grab at his crotch. This would
lead to instant retaliation, in the struggle they might fall over another
boy's bed and he would become embroiled too. Often it would spread quickly
until a dozen or more boys would be involved in a swirling mass of bodies.
None of this was serious stuff, just high spirits. Occasionally a boy's
pants would be pulled down in the struggling, but he was always allowed to
pull them up again so I don't really think that any of this had anything to
do with homosexuality. We didn't know much about queers, practically nothing
in fact, but we knew that they were loathsome.

In the fullness of time I joined the Royal Navy, Fleet Air Arm. At the end
of my four year commission I became an airline pilot, first with a small
airline, later I joined a national airline, and got married before my 22nd
birthday, far too young as I now know. We'd planned for us both to work for
a while to get a bit of money saved up and to do a bit of travelling before
starting a family, but within weeks my wife was pregnant. Well everything
changed. She was sick for the first trimester, the doctor told her that sex
would be very risky during the second, and during the third she was so big
that sex was both awkward and uncomfortable. And even after the baby was
born my wife fed him which meant a lot of wakeful nights and not much sex.
Sometime during the second year of virtual celibacy I was on a flight with a
two day layover in Tangiers. It was a beautiful day, but I had come without
any swimming togs; in Northern Europe in October who would think of swimming
togs? It was also a national holiday, the shops were closed, so I couldn't
buy any. Looking out from the balcony of my room in the hotel I could see
that the beach out front was crowded, but way over to my right the crowds
thinned out, and about within a mile or so it was deserted. It was too good
a day to waste in the hotel so I set off along the beach. I walked until I
had left the crowd behind, then a bit further, then a bit further still to
be sure. Feeling very self-conscious I stripped off and ran into the sea. It
felt great, there was a bit of surf, not of Hawaiian proportions, but enough
for body-surfing. I was already excited when I went in, but the swirling
water and millions of bubbles around my cock and balls got me really hard.
As I rode in on a wave I could feel my cock being vibrated vigorously by the
churning water which carried me right up the beach. Sometimes my prick would
be dragged across the sand in the shallows, sometimes I was dumped suddenly
on to the hard sand which really hurt. Each ride was just so exciting, I
would lie face down on the sand as the wave receded feeling the water
rushing past my naked body. I had been in the water about 30 to 40 minutes
when a bigger than average wave came by. In the split second between being
lifted up and rushing off down the face of the wave I saw a man lying in a
hollow scooped out of the sand high up on the beach; he was naked, and
watching me. It was just a glimpse, a split second, then the rush of water
carried me in. This time I lay there for the longest time, my mind was in a
whirl, I don't know why but I really was turned on by the thought that a man
had been watching me. I should have just picked up my things and moved
further along the beach, but I didn't. After some time, I'm not sure how
long, I got up and walked up the beach to where he lay.

He looked up as I approached, not the slightest bit surprised, it was as
though he was expecting me. He said something in French and gestured for me
to join him. I lay down beside him. Our conversation was limited since he
spoke no English, and I only schoolboy French. I found it difficult to
concentrate on what he was saying because my heart was pounding and I was
feeling a bit light-headed. It must have been obvious that I was nervous, he
tried to reassure me and started to massage gently around the base of my
neck and my shoulder blades. It felt so good! I knew perfectly well that I
was getting into a sexual situation, that I should get up and go, but it was
so incredibly sensuous that I just lay there and let it happen. He started
at my shoulders, but, little by little, his hand went further down my back,
until he was stroking all the way down, over my ass and down the back of my
thighs. At first I was very tense, but in the heat of the sun the tension
drained away, my hips relaxed under his hands and I felt my balls loosen
until they came down on the hot sand. Now the only thing about me that was
still tense was my bone hard cock under my body. I knew that I was getting
in deeper, but still I didn't move. He must have felt the difference because
his fingers started to slide down the crack of my ass instead of over it,
and as his hands came up my legs they slid up the inside of my thighs,
brushing very lightly against the back of my scrotum. For a while this got
me up tight again, but that feeling passed and soon the fingers were probing
at my hole and stroking my balls. Although I had relaxed physically, my
heart was still racing. A small voice of conscience was saying, "Get up and
go," the rest of me was saying, "Let it happen." I was still being torn when
he reached between my legs, took hold of my balls and squeezed them gently
between his fingers. Actually he didn't squeeze, just took them and closed
his fingers around them, but this was too much for me, the cum just flowed
out of my balls into the sand. I didn't move, just lay there, the juice
flowed and flowed. He didn't realize what had happened, went on fondling,
but by now I wanted him to stop. I didn't know how to tell him I had come so
I rolled over to show him. He burst out laughing. Just then I saw a group of
four Arabs heading not many yards away and heading for the spot where we
lay. I lost my nerve, got up and ran to where I had left my clothes, grabbed
them and hurried away pulling them on over the cum and the sand as I went.

I didn't stop until I got back to the hotel, but even before I reached the
safety of my room I was regretting that I had run away. I thought about what
had happened all the way back and by the time I had the door shut behind me
I had another raging erection. By now I was really regretting my cowardice,
I thought about going back, it was quite a way, but mostly I thought I would
look a real fool. Knowing what I do now I am sure he would have been
delighted to see me coming back, but I didn't go. Instead I went out on to
the balcony and lay down in the warm sun. As the heat soaked into my balls I
jerked off fantasizing about what might have happened if I had not come when
I did. I wouldn't have seen the Arabs approaching for one thing, and they
are definitely into homosexuality. I still wonder what the outcome might
have been.

Looking back I honestly can't say how I came to do what I did, nor what was
in my mind when I walked up the beach to where the guy lay. When I left the
hotel I had no sexual expectations. Yes, skinny dipping is exciting, but not
exactly sexual, or at least not from the point of view of having sex as a
result. Had I met an attractive woman on the beach I'd very likely have
tried to get into conversation, before I'd stripped off that is. Might even
have tried to get her into bed, but as to a sexual encounter with a man, it
never would have crossed my mind. Yet I must have known as I walked towards
him that I was going into a homosexual situation. Certainly he must have
thought so, I was naked and I had a full erection as I walked towards him.
But I was moving like an automaton, it was as though I had no option, I had
to go to him. I might have developed a guilt complex about what I'd done, or
perhaps felt ashamed, but on my very next flight I was taken in hand by one
of our stewardesses, literally. We had a brief, torrid affair, not a love
affair, this was pure, mutual lust. She taught me that sex is neither holy,
nor sacred, just a game that adults play. I guess this attitude has saved me
from a lot of guilt and recriminations over the years. I didn't try to
forget Tangiers, but looking back it seemed to be something that had
happened to me rather than something I had done. You might think it even
more strange that after this happened I went on with my normal, heterosexual
life.

However, a couple of years later I started flying 707's, and having layovers
in faraway places, New York City for one. That's where I got turned on by
men again... For real this time.

Let me know what you think so far with an e-mail to daprivate12@hotmail.com

David