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-mirror.org/~sven/ Erotic Authors Guild (UK Chapter) e-mail to Sven at brass-neck dot demon dot co dot uk