. . . . . . . “I wrap my arms around your waist from behind as you turn your head and our lips meet. I close my eyes and savor the taste and feel of your lips massaging mine. “Come on.” I take your hand and lead you over to a blanket, gentle breeze. Next to us is a battery operated radio and an ice bucket containing two bottles of KF beer. “This is a private beach a common friend of us owns,” I explain as we sit down next to each other on the blanket, “While the owner’s away on vacation he. Your own hidden animal kicked in. The smell of sex and sweat, golden bodies, flashing in the blazing sun. You pushed me hard, back to the rough, sandy ground. Straddling me, your sex, lunged down on my gleaming pole. You impaled yourself on the piercing staff. Time and time again, we ground our flesh together. Oh yes, we have unleashed the beast. I felt the stirring of a vast orgasm coming from you. The way your sex gripped at me, fluid coating my shaft. Effortlessly, I tossed you over, to. He’d even acted as coach a couple of times when the regular soccer had been sick. It was other more subtle things since New Years that an outsider might not have noticed that went on between the three of them. A hand lingering a little too long, a knowing smile with nothing said, the way the three of them would stand in the kitchen teasing each other or wrapping their arms around each other in a communal hug. But there had never been a repeat of that New Year’s Eve kiss nor anything more. "There are men who love women. This you understand, I think. But thereare also men who love men, and women who love women, and men and womenwho love both."Such thoughts had never occurred to me, and I could not understand howsuch things could be, or, purely as a matter of simple mechanics, howthose of the same gender could fit their parts together. Perhaps theymerely kissed, or embraced? But I had no time to pursue myspeculations because Ginny was already continuing her lecture on thesubject of.
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