Hans

What is it about sex and water?

Open any gay magazine and you’ll see what I mean.

There’s usually at least one naked twink spending what appears to be a quite excessive amount of time under the shower, languorously soaping up all those secret places with which we want to become more familiar (but, so annoyingly, obscuring them with bubbles in the process!)

Or else the photoshoot’s done in the pool at some rich queen’s Beverley Hills mansion. That’s a great one for fantasising over. (Rich queen to porno director: Of course you may use my little old house for a location, darling. But I think it would only be fair if, in return, you were to offer me first pick…” etc., etc.)

Yes, sex and water sure are a great mix. Water under sunshine can make even the most ordinary skin shine and glisten like burnished gold, while those cute little droplets are just aching to be licked off at the very first opportunity offered.

But, quite aside from the aesthetics of the matter, there’s another, more practical reason why sex and water go so well together. The beach.

Now I’m not referring here to lovely Leonardo’s movie. I mean real beaches which offer men like us the chance to take good long looks at beautiful boys in all their glory. Beaches have always attracted gay voyeurs and I guess that, as a result, it’s inevitable that many of them - particularly those with hidden areas among the dunes - ultimately become cruising grounds.

The beach was where I first met Hans.

We were strolling along in opposite directions with no one else in sight.

With his blue check shirt open and bare feet, he could easily have passed for a young guy taking just a recreational stroll. But as we neared each other we each recognised the universal signs given off when guys are interested in each other.

We both slowed down, pretending to look out at the sea.

As we did so, Hans took off his shirt completely and looked towards me.

He made a couple of remarks about how great the sea looked today, then asked for a cigarette. When no expression of disappointment followed my reply that I don’t smoke, it became pretty obvious that the cigarette wasn’t really at the forefront of his mind at all.

We both stood staring out at the water - and occasionally glancing sideways at each other - for a few more minutes.

Then suddenly Hans stripped off his pants and tossed them back onto the beach. He ran into the water, laughing with excitement, clambered up onto a half-submerged piece of wood and looked back at me.

“The water’s not too bad today. A bit on the cold side, maybe, but you soon get used to it.

“Come on in.”

I smiled back at him. “Maybe later”, I called. “It looks pretty good, but I’ll just watch you for now.”