Old Fisherman On Spring Break

He offered a stick with its prize of charred fish and that made the rounds. His belly stirred as he watched those young lips and bright teeth tug the warm flesh into their mouths, nodding to each other with the enjoyment of it. Knowing that a few moments before those lips had surrounded his cock; those fingers had parted the moist hidden curves, those faces had lost themselves in ecstasy.

Something beautifully primitive was happening. A circle of hungry people, fresh from sex and salt water, sitting around a fire and eating freshly cooked fish. Had this scene happened in just this way ever before? Perhaps it had. a group of women had shared the secrets of what lit their inner fires. An elder of some ancient village had shared his erotic lore. They had 'thanked' him with the gift of newly learned techniques. Soon they would go off and find mates, face challenges, make babies. But this evening, this night would be like a secret keepsake they would hide in a magic charm. And from time to time, even until they were as old as he, they would take it out and remember the passion that swept over them on the warm sand and the time they opened themselves and made love to the universe.