Blowjob on the beach

It was one of those late summer afternoons when the sun no longer burns, but still warms enough for the skin to remember the entire summer. The beach was almost empty: a couple of families packing up umbrellas in the distance, a woman walking with her dog, and further away, where the sand becomes coarser and the dunes start to block the view of the promenade, only he and I remained.

I don't know exactly when we saw each other. I think it was when I got out of the water, my swimsuit clinging to my body, my hair dripping. He was sitting on an old towel, with his back to the few people who remained, looking at the horizon as if waiting for something to happen there. He wore a dark blue swimsuit, one of those short ones that accentuate everything, and a gray sleeveless shirt that revealed broad, tanned shoulders. He wasn't cover-model handsome, but he had that dangerous calm of men who know exactly what they want and don't need to say it.

We exchanged glances once. Then again. The third time, neither of us looked away.

I approached slowly, as if I was just going to pass by, but we both knew that wasn't the case. I sat down a meter away, looking at the sea as well. The silence between us was comfortable, electric. After a couple of minutes, he spoke without looking at me:

"Do you mind if I take off my shirt? It's still hot."

"No," I replied, and my voice came out huskier than I expected. "Take it off."

He removed it slowly. His torso was exactly as I had imagined: dark hair on his chest that went down in a perfect line until it disappeared into his swimsuit, muscles marked by work rather than the gym, a small white scar just below his last rib. He glanced at me sideways as he folded his shirt.

"Do you have heat too?" he asked.

I smiled sidelong and took off mine without saying anything. The salty air brushed against my nipples, and I felt them harden instantly. He noticed. He didn't say anything, but his breathing changed.

We stayed like that for a while, just looking at the sea, letting the tension build up on its own. At some point, his left hand rested on the sand, very close to my thigh. He didn't touch me. It was just there. Waiting to see if I would move my leg those five centimeters that were missing.

I moved them.

His fingers brushed against the inside of my thigh, went up slowly to the edge of my swimsuit. I felt how I got hard instantly, how the fabric tensed. He let out a short, almost inaudible sigh.

"Here?" he asked in a low voice.

"Here," I replied.

He looked around. No one. Just the sound of the waves and a distant seagull.

He got on his knees in front of me, with his back to the sea, so that his body almost completely blocked the view from the promenade. He looked me in the eye while he put his fingers inside my swimsuit and lowered it just enough. My cock came out free, hard, shiny with saliva and sea ...