Gay Sex On The Beach

Sex on the beach was a huge turn-on. Shedding my clothes and being bare to the elements was like letting go of a lifetime of inhibition.
*****
“Are we there yet?” Jeremy grouses from where he sits slumped in the passenger seat, not opening his eyes.
“Almost there, babe,” I respond, reaching over to pat his left thigh. His grouchy demeanor is all an act, I know. Jer’s been looking forward to this outing as much as I have, if not more. But he’s not a morning person — I learned that right at the start of our relationship, so I’m long since used to it now — and after crawling out of bed at the crack of dawn, I think he feels he has to complain just for form’s sake.
It is a long drive, I silently acknowledge to myself, well over an hour from Long Beach, with a fairly demanding hike following that. This tradition was a lot easier to maintain when we lived in Aliso Viejo, a convenient fifteen miles up the freeway. But it’s our anniversary tradition, all the more meaningful now in light of what happened just a few days ago.
Our freeway exit comes into view at last, and I breathe a sigh of relief, rolling my shoulders to relieve the tension of driving. Jeremy feels the change in velocity as we take the offramp, opens his beautiful sleepy brown eyes, and sits up to look out the window. “Looks like it’ll be a clear one,” he observes, studying the sky. I nod absently, focused on navigating around a surfboard-laden pickup truck. Southern California beaches in June can be a dicey prospect. Jer and I have spent a couple times down here bundled in sweatshirts and jeans, waiting in vain for the sun to peek through the clouds. June...