It was eight when I arrived at the beach. The air was balmy and the sky was clear. He wasn't there so I sat on the floor waiting for him to show up. Ten minutes later someone tapped me on the shoulder. I saw him and I smiled. "Oh, hi, you're James* issit?". I liked the way he look, tall, broad shoulder and squarish jaw, rather handsome fellow...kinda like james lye. We walked along the beach together, looking for a quiet place to sit. The original plan was, afterall, only to sit and admire the beach while talking like we always do in IRC.
Somewhere near the lighthouse we stopped. We sat on the sand and he took out a can of beer. I hate beer, what a vile tasting drink! He asked me if I want some, but I said, no, I hate beer. Soon we feel restless and he asked me if I wanted to go into the water. I said, why the hell not, I did bring some spare clothes with me. So we held hands and entered the warm water, he still had that can of beer in his other hand.
It was exhilirating, the water pounded against me and even the beer tasted better when one was soaked in moving water. Ever so slyly he positioned himself behind me, not touching, but I knew...
When the next big wave came it pushed me solidly against him. His hands quickly grab my hips to "steady" me but they didn't move away even after the wave pulled back. The naked moon, the water pushing and pulling ever so torturously, I guess we got a little bit crazy that night because suddenly we were kissing. He was a good kisser, even when I was awkward (because it was my first french kiss). We wrapped our arms around each other while the warm water play us on with its naughty shoves.
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should I continue and be an "erotica"

hiaks

writer like I always wanted to be or should I stop because it did get further and there are kids around?
Ivan, I need more persuasion.
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The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are
always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.
--Bertrand Russell