tagRomanceSummer Loving

Summer Loving

byjane marwood©

Not my usual fayre. Just a simple love story.


"I am only teasing you Emma, I really don't mind being on a public beach. The sunbeds aren't that bad and at least the males we have seen have been young."

Emma turned lazily and looked at her friend. "I know, Claire. We are here for as long as we want, and William H. is not going to be here for another five days. I am just hoping that I can find an interesting diversion before I have to play gooseberry at the 'Cap'. I don't mind William's company at all, but he is your husband and you enjoy being with him. So at least, for a day or two after he arrives, you need to be on your own." Their conversation was sporadic as they lazed in the morning sunshine.

"Oh, here is Robert." Emma pronounced it in the French way. "Better put our tops on, or the poor man will have a heart attack." They both watched as the plump attendant shuffled towards them. He looked hot and his face was reddened, probably more by exertion than the sun, thought Emma. Why on earth does he wear all those clothes?

Robert had collected their municipal sunbed rental fee for the last three days. He knew from their beach towels, that they were staying at the Cap d'Antibes Hotel, and he knew that they were wealthy. The Lois Vuitton zip-up beach bags were not of the ilk of his usual customers.

Like every good Frenchman, he kept the change without comment. he lifted his chin to indicate the teenager seated upon the beach about twenty yards away. Emma looked and waved her hand in a negative gesture. It's a public beach and he has every right, she thought. She watched Robert shuffle, even more slowly, back along the sand.

Claire removed her bikini-top again and turned on her front. Emma followed suit but sat up with her arms around her knees and gazed out to the blue of the sea and sky. It was a beautiful day, warm, but not sweltering. She was lost in her thoughts. Here she was, twenty-six-years-old, newly divorced, as rich as Croesus, and enjoying life as only the unburdened can. She felt Claire tap her on the back. She turned her head and looked at her, sensing immediately that her friend wanted to talk.

She laid on her front and saw Claire gesture towards the teenager. She whispered. "Don't be obvious but watch." They both laid with their heads upon their hands, half closing their eyes. It was an ideal way of watching someone, without them knowing. They were both past-masters at the art of appearing to be asleep when they were not. Boarding school teaches you a lot about playing possum while matron is checking the dormitory.

They watched him. He was seated with his back leaning against the stone wall of the beach-entrance. Emma made an inventory as she observed him. He had a backpack, old and frayed. A case that could either be a guitar or a rifle... make that a guitar, the thin type. One cheesecloth shirt. One pair of well-worn chinos fastened with a plaited belt, well-worn-out. Rope sandals, again, well-worn. No wristwatch.

He was examining the contents of his backpack. He pulled out a towel. Not big enough to be a beach towel and certainly very thin and well-washed over a long period of time. His body looked long and lean. His hair was dirty blonde with multiple highlights from the sun. There was a smattering of soft blonde hair on his chin and cheeks. His face looked quite handsome from what she could see. He certainly looked very young. No more than eighteen, nineteen perhaps.

He took another object out of the bag and started looking around the beach. He was looking in their direction, but not at them. Claire whispered. "He's looking to see if Robert is about." They both watched in fascination as he eased off his sandals and, while still looking around, began to undo the belt to his pants. They both watched, as he lifted his bottom up enough to ease the well-worn garment down his long legs and was able to shuffle the chinos off his feet.

Neither Emma or Claire could decide whether he was wearing black trunks or whether they were underpants. He folded the chinos carefully and began to unbutton his shirt. He slipped it from his body and laid it over his hips. Hiding the object of their curiosity.

His body was well tanned. He had no hair upon his chest and his legs did not appear to have any either, although Emma thought that with his blonde hair they would hardly show. He was definitely not a hairy boy. Claire and Emma just caught his look as he examined them. She thought that it was to see whether they were awake and watching, rather than anything predatory. Their experienced sleeping act was sufficient to allay his curiosity.

He stayed still for a few moments, then quickly and fluidly, he sprang up and sprinted across the sand to the sea. Claire whispered. "Just turn over naturally and see what he is doing. He has taken something with him."

He had made for the shallows on the most deserted part of the beach near to a rock formation that swimmers avoided. Although he was now a good fifty yards away, they could see to their astonishment, that he was washing himself in the sea. Claire had turned over and was sat up as she watched. "Is that possible, he is using soap in the sea?"

Emma followed her gaze. "I can tell you one thing, they are not swimming trunks. He has had to pull them up twice already, and there is a label hanging out at the back."

Claire squinted her eyes against the sun and observed as closely as she could. "Yes, you are right, they sagged as soon as he got them wet. If you were to look for a little while longer, you would almost see why they are sagging. Pretty full package, I would say!"

They both giggled like the schoolgirls that they were not so long ago.

Claire suddenly decided. She put her bikini top back on and reached for the purse in her bag. "Keep watch, I am just going across the road." Emma did as she was told, not thinking for a minute why Claire would suddenly decide to climb the three steps that separated the paved street from the beach wall and visit the row of shops upon the other side.

It was a lazy day and the weather promoted a beautiful feeling of wellbeing. Emma continued to observe the boy. It was a distance, but she was able to see, more or less, what he was doing.

He was now seated upon the other side of the rocks facing out to sea, the objects that he had taken with him were placed on top of the craggy rocks and he seemed to be preoccupied with something in the water. Emma watched and was surprised to see that a cloth, or a garment, had now been placed beside the other objects he had taken with him.

So, she thought, he has taken soap and probably a razor down to the beach. He has washed and perhaps shaved, and then he has washed his underpants in the sea. Her suspicions were confirmed as he placed the soap back on the rock and laid his body back, keeping his bottom half hidden beneath the water as it frothed against the rocks. She could see him looking around casually. Seeing that his part of the beach was deserted, he inched his body out of the water and sat on the top boulder with his arms hugging his knees. Emma knew that if he was intending to let his body dry in the sun, there was good chance that she might catch a glimpse of what his underpants had been hiding.

She was suddenly aware of Claire, flopping down on the bed beside hers. She handed Emma a small pair of binoculars. Emma giggled when she saw them. "I could see him from the top of the steps. Well worth a look." Emma giggled again as she picked up the glasses and scanned the area until she found the tanned skin of the boy suddenly fill the eyepieces. She watched his face as her looked to left and right, surveying the beach around him.

His face was very handsome, and his body was well-toned but not overly muscular. She thought that his thighs were particularly long and beautifully shaped. She continued watching. The small binoculars were excellent with just the right amount of magnification to observe him as if she were standing only a few yards away from him.

She waited for what she had already predicted that he would have to do, if he were to dry himself sufficiently to put the skimpy pants back on.

Gradually he widened his knees, watching his surroundings carefully as he allowed the sun to catch the appropriate part of his body. Delicious, absolutely delicious. His penis was thick and certainly longer than she had imagined. She waited until his thighs parted sufficiently until she could see the bulge below. There we are, she thought. How nice you are my little beauties. Pale and full and tightly tucked away within his scrotum. Delish! She handed the glasses to Claire who was leaning over her.

"Lie on your elbows, it really holds the glasses steady. He is now all beautifully revealed for your delectation."

Holding the glasses steady and giggling was proving difficult for Claire until she suddenly expelled her breath. "He is beautiful Emma, really beautiful. He will have to stay like that for a while if he is to dry his pretty jewels. Oh, that is nice."

They both watched as the boy reached behind him and turned the pants over before placing a few pebbles on the top of them. They spent the next twenty minutes, alternately taking the binoculars as the boy continued to sit with his legs apart, oblivious to their interest.

They both knew what his next move would be and were intrigued to see how he would accomplish it. Here we go thought Emma. She held the glasses up to her eyes watching the boy's body as he rolled on to his side.

Now she could see one superbly shaped buttock. She watched for a while as the he kept glancing behind him. He need not have worried as even the busier parts of the beach had thinned. She knew that people were already thinking about their lunch. She handed the glasses to Claire and just looked at the apparition of a beautiful naked boy laying on the rocks as if he were posing for a renaissance painter.

Claire suddenly giggled. "Sorry you missed that Emma, his penis flopped over from one side to the other. I feel guilty hogging that particular manoeuvre."

They were both giggling. Giggling was something that they naturally did, when in each other's company. "Here Emma, the next bit will reveal all. He has to put them back on. He has been pretty slick so far, but I think he will take the opportunity to do it while everyone is making their way down to the cafés.

As if taking Claire's words as a cue. The boy stood up upon the rock. Emma thought that he looked wonderful. Narrow hips and an even narrower waist, curving upwards to a youthful torso and boyish broadening shoulders. He bent sideways and retrieved his briefs. His balance was perfect as he raised one foot and then the other. Sliding the now dry garment upwards over the curvature of his thighs and over the twin hillocks of his buttocks.

Once they were in place, he bent over and picked up what Emma presumed, was his soap and razor.

Claire whispered. "Think you had better put the bins back in the shopping bag. I have something else for you in there. Have a look."

Emma lazily leaned up on one elbow and put the binoculars into the bag. She took out the other items that Claire had bought. There was a plain blue beach towel and a pair of swimming shorts. The shorts were in a bleached-out cotton and looked expensive. The labels had already been removed.

Emma grinned. "You are going to walk across and casually give him these, Claire?" She suddenly giggled. "I know you are going to make him try them on while you watch. Is that it? Matron was right. You are a wicked, wicked girl" Claire could not stop giggling. At last she managed to speak. "Don't turn around, he is on his way back. He looks a lot more relaxed. But no, to your assumption Emma, I am not going to give them to him, but you are... and you are going to find out who he is and what he is doing. That is, if he speaks English."

She looked at Emma. "He has provided us with a delightful morning's entertainment. I don't think he will be offended. I just think he will be delightfully embarrassed and grateful for them. Give it a go, girl."

Emma thought about it and then decided. "OK Claire tell me when he is back in place. He might suddenly drift off." Emma wrapped the costume up in the beach towel. Claire watched the boy's progress up the beach "He doesn't seem to be in a hurry. But I think it would still be better if you did it straight away before you have second thoughts. About ten yards to go now. Ah, clever boy, he is sitting on his little towel so that he doesn't get sand on him. He will probably wait a bit as we are talking together. He might hope that we are going to head off for lunch, so he can do his little act in reverse."

Emma reached for her top and sat upright facing Claire. She still had her back to the boy. "How do I look, Claire?" Claire giggled instantly. "You look, my dear Emma, like a predatory fresh divorcee of twenty-six, who is going to embarrass the hell out of a beautiful young boy."

She stopped giggling and looked earnestly at her friend. "Let me tell you Emma. You look divine. If you were dressed in a tube-top and a pair of cut-offs, you would look no older than he does. Tell you what, give me the bracelet and the diamond ring, they are a bit cap-hotel. Keep the little star necklace and the ankle chain, they look cute. Chanel cute, but cute."

She looked over Emma's shoulder again. "OK, you look perfect, go do your stuff."

Emma did not wait until she might have second thoughts. She put the towel under her arm and sauntered along the beach until she was standing in front of him. His eyes were closed and then they suddenly opened as her shadow fell across him. He looked at her and blushed. Even under his tan, he was not able to conceal the pink flush to his cheeks.

Emma spoke softly, seeing that he was already embarrassed before she made him realise that she knew that he was wearing underpants rather than trunks. He made a move to flip some of the towel over his hips. But Emma could see that it was far too small.

"Hi, do you speak any English. He blushed again before he spoke. "Oh, ah... Yes, I'm from the U.S."

Emma was pleased to discover that he was American, it would make conversation far simpler. She kept her eyes on his, although she was dying to have a good look at his lean and tanned body, now that she was standing so near to him. "What are you doing here, you don't look as if you are on vacation? He managed to blush again. "No, I was looking for a job, erm... playing guitar and singing."

Emma smiled at him, encouraging him to get over his embarrassment. He was still laid back against the wall and she could see that he was ready to lean forward and hide the brevity of his underpants. "Did you manage to get one? Only I noticed that you don't have, how shall I say it... many possessions."

The blush came on cue as she allowed her eyes to wander over his body before she looked into his face again. "Yes, erm... Miss, I managed to get a trial at the Trop last night. The owner said that I should turn up between one and two today. He wants some music to keep the people that are lunching from sort of drifting off to other places afterwards... and my playing is kind of suitable for the place. You know kind of sixties, summer of love, erm... well that kind."

His longest sentence drifted into nothing as he began to fidget. Emma was absolutely intrigued. "So, you will be playing just down the beach and you wanted to get cleaned up before you got there." He blushed immediately at the realisation that she knew what he had been doing. He was just going to lean forward and cover himself when she spoke again.

"Don't worry, I won't tell." She grinned at him. "My friend and I observed your dilemma. Here catch!" She tossed the towel with the trunks still wrapped inside. She watched as he opened the towel and saw the trunks. "These are for me?" Emma grinned again. "I don't wear boy's trunks. Do you think they will fit?" He stretched them out, giving Emma another chance to examine his body. "Yes, I am sure they will, Miss."

"Good, my name is Emma, what's yours?"

He blushed again as he saw her looking at him. "My name is Richard... but, I prefer Ricky. I mean my parents call me Richard, but I don't like it very much."

Emma could see that he was blushing again. He laid the towel casually but purposefully over his hips. "OK Ricky, if you are at the Trop soon, hadn't you better make a move. It is nearly one now. But you don't have a watch, so how do you know that you won't be late?"

"I was just going to get dressed and go down. I left my amplifier there last night, so I am nearly ready."

Emma grinned at him mischievously. "Sorry, Ricky I was teasing you. You were just waiting until we turned the other way. Put your chinos on and take your guitar. Do you need your backpack? If you don't, I will take it to the kiosk for you, so you don't look like you have been sleeping on the beach."

His face went bright red. "How d'did you know?"

"Well Ricky, why wash in the sea, if you had a room?"

He looked rueful. "Sorry, of course. Would you Miss, I mean look after my pack?"

"Yes, of course, now I'll stand here and shield you while you put your pants on. Come on, I won't molest you."

Blushing with all his might. He stood up and let the towel fall. He reached for his chinos and put them on. He blushed as Emma spoke again. "You don't have to be so rushed, just put your shirt on and let me see if you look presentable."

Emma was almost sure that she could hear Claire giggling as she watched the young boy. He looked reasonable as he fastened the shirt and let it hang loose over the frayed belt of his chinos. She picked up his backpack and the new towel and trunks.

"Just come and meet Claire and then you had better go."

He picked up the guitar case as she walked with him to the sunbeds. She was pleased to see that Claire had anticipated their intention and had replaced her top. "Claire this is Ricky, he really needs to go. He is playing and singing at the Trop."

Claire turned to the boy. "How old are your Ricky?"

He blushed again but answered her. "Eighteen, Miss."

"How long have you been eighteen, Ricky?"

He smiled. The smile lit up his face, and Emma was enthralled by it.

"Since midnight, Miss."

Claire grinned at him. "Well if you were not in so much of a hurry, I would give you a birthday kiss." She was just as delighted with his blushes as Emma. She spoke to him again.

"Don't acknowledge us when we come down to the Trop. Just do your thing, and if we meet you, it will be as strangers. Got it?"

He looked puzzled but nodded. "Erm, OK... erm, Miss."

"Good boy, now off you go and remember, you haven't met us."

He blushed and looked at both of them. "Thank you for the trunks and the towel. Really... thank you."

They watched him walk off.

Claire tapped Emma on the arm. "Was it a full package then?"

They both giggled. "Like a basket of fruit, including a big banana."

It was an hour later that they reached the beach veranda of the restaurant. The folding doors had been pulled back as usual, leaving the restaurant and the veranda as one room. They were pleased to see that the outside table they favoured was not occupied. They sat immediately as they heard his guitar. He was playing the theme from 'The Sting.'

Claire had often tried to play it on the piano at college. She had never mastered it and wondered how difficult it must be to play it on the guitar.

Emma smiled at her. "That's a relief, he is really a very good guitar player. I wonder what the voice is like?" Claire giggled and crossed her eyes. "Well, with that package, he isn't going to sing soprano."

Emma saw Albert, the restaurant owner approaching. He did not normally serve the customers, but for the last three days he had always come to their table to see what they would like to drink.

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byjane marwood© 16 comments/ 21311 views/ 21 favorites

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