The year that I turned 18 was a busy one for me. I had just taken my A level exams at college, and was waiting to see if the results would allow me to go to the university of my choice. I had a long hot summer to wait, and spent the summer living in a holiday chalet that my parents owned on the Norfolk coast. I spent every sunny day on the beach, and in the evenings worked as a barman in a large holiday village nearby.
I had a lot of sex that summer, working in a holiday village meant a constant supply of women who considered sex an essential part of the holiday experience, my partners ranged from girls of my own age to well preserved married women in their 40s. However, I sensed that something was not quite right, I made love to the ladies because it was the thing to do and sometimes my conquests were very insistent, not because I felt that I wanted to do it for it's own sake. I was also aware that I was attracted to men, not all men you understand, but some guys really got my pulses racing. I knew that I wanted to explore them sexually but only had the most basic knowledge about what form that exploration would take.
One fateful day I walked down to the beach to find a chilly breeze blowing in from the sea. I therefore walked to the end of the long sweeping bay, past a headland where you had to go past giant fallen rocks, and onto the nudist beach. The nudist beach was situated in a small sheltered cove, which trapped the sun and protected you from the wind. On this weekday morning the beach was deserted so I laid my towel down, stripped down to a tiny pair of swimming shorts and started reading my book and soaking up the sun.
After about half an hour another guy appeared on the beach. He was in his late 30s, tall, slim, fair haired, and very good looking.
