
The Dunes. 
A tale of summer love. 
© Sven the Elder September '98

Sven@brass-neck.demon.co.uk

Sand dunes are a living thing, sculpted and moved by
the wind they march timelessly across behind the beach
and the sand where most folks lie and play in the
sunshine.  To most of those people they are a temporary
nuisance, an irritation to be passed through or round
on their way to the goal - their own spot on the sand.

Sam was different, he loved the dunes, he liked their
simplicity, the uncomplicated but beautiful patterns
that the sand formed as the wind did it's work.  He
liked being able to lie in the marram grassed top, flat
on his back looking at the sky and the birds that
sometimes wheeled overhead.  He enjoyed being able to
pick out the tiny speck of the skylark, maybe 250 feet
up, hovering then wheeling in the wind.  Singing it's
heart out, telling the world, if any one of the world
had the time to listen, of his love for his mate and
life in general.

The Arctic Terns swooped too and from the nearby sea
edge, bringing back food for the young in the nest
scrapes at the foot of the dune, their noisy cacophony
screeling and wailing in the wind.  Sam lay on the top
of 'his' dune, maybe a hundred and fifty feet high, it
towered over the others in it's vicinity.  Seemingly
more permanent than the others it had been there for as
long as he had been coming to this part of the coast
with his mother and father.

Now a young man, he still liked to come away with them,
but was pleased to have his secret refuge away from his
younger sisters.  He sighed as he thought of them, back
in the cottage, growing up fast to be sure, but still
noisy and yelling and, and...  It didn't matter though
up here he was alone with his thoughts, peace and
quiet, the gentle sighing of the wind through the
waving grass.  The noises of nature, the mewing of the
Fulmars at odds with the harsher skreech of the
Kittiwakes.

Today he also thought of the family that had moved in
the cottage beside theirs.  Like Sam's family it would
appear they were going to be staying for the summer
months.  At sixteen, Sam had discovered girls a year or
so before, unlike some of his friends, the garrulous
ones, he was unsure of himself, diffident a more than a
little uncomfortable in their presence.  Right now he
wished he had the courage of some his brash buddy's,
the ones who swore they had actually kissed girls.

He laughed a little to himself, "As if they actually
had."  He knew Tom had, he'd seen him behind the bike
shed with Deirdre, but then Tom didn't brag about it
either.  Sam's shifted a little in the sand scrape he
had made on the top away from the sharp grass. Laying
on his stomach he spied on his world, dozing in the
summer sunshine, the wind carrying the sounds up from
the beach.  His mind went back to the his earlier
thoughts and again his dick hardened in his swimming
shorts as he though of the pretty red-haired girl, part
of the family that had arrived earlier.  He laid his
chin on his forearm and dozed as he thought of having
the courage to steal a kiss, or more.

o - O - o

He didn't hear or see Kate, the girl from the cottage,
who now stood so close, her summer dress swirling in
the breeze.  She watched him silently for a time,
taking in his strong, lithe legs and slightly pale,
early summer appearnce.  She smiled to herself as she
though that maybe , just maybe the vacation might not
be so bad after all.  Quietly she turned and half
climbing, half jumping, ran down the back of the dune
in the marks Sam had left when he climbed up.  She had
followed them carefully as well and wondered if he
would realise someone else had been there.  Looking
back up the slope from the bottom she realised that one
of the crescent arms of the high dune made sure the
tracks were hidden.  She chuckled as she realised that
it was only good fortune and a slight inquisitiveness
that had allowed her to find them.

She walked thoughtfully back, wondering how she might
'engineer' a casual meeting, had she glanced over her
shoulder she would have seen an equally pensive Sam
watching her head back.  He had her, as she landed
after one of the jumps that was the quick way down.  He
had been in time to see her long legs as she ran, the
dress billowing out behind.  How long had she been
watching, what had she thought of him lying there, what
had she been thinking, studying him as he had thought
of her.  Had she realised that he was grinding his hips
into the sand, squirming his penis until he had eased
it out of the side of his swimming briefs, gently
holding himself until he had come with a mingled sight
of relief and pleasure.  Had she witnessed that?

As it happened she hadn't, but Sam was unaware of that
and was unduly pensive as he walked back for his
supper.

The next day dawned bright and early, Sam's parents
were used to his early rising and exploring ways whilst
on vacation, so were not unduly surprised to find him
up breakfasted and out of the house when they got round
to rising.  Sam meanwhile was off down towards the
hinterland of the beach.  But not to 'his' dune. 
Instead he made his way to a part of the coastline
where the cliffs ended and there was a gradual drop off
to the first of the dunes.  Making his way to the
slight hill behind the last of the cliffs, Sam settled
in for a wait.  Back against a dry-stone wall, he used
the binoculars his parents had given him for his last
birthday.  Ostensibly they were to help with his hobby
of bird watching but Sam had found a number of other
uses which included watching folks doing things his
parents had not envisaged he would be interested in.

He scanned the dunes watching the first of the folks
coming down to make the best of what was promising to
be yet another good day.  He laughed a little to
himself as he watched some of the folks look about
furtivley, before quickly changing into swimming
things.  They couldn't see him from the few hundred
yards that he was sat away from them.

Sven the Elder

http://bitbard.pair.com/
&
http://www.asstr.org/~sven/


Erotic Authors Guild (UK Chapter)
e-mail to Sven at brass-neck dot demon dot co dot uk
