...Then I spotted the clothes hanging on the line.It was behind the cabin, on the other side from where I'd been swimming.A whole clothesline, I could...make out through the trees, hung withclothes. This might be my salvation!Cautiously, I moved through the thicket in a half-crouch, looking thisway and that, listening for' anyone around. Clothes on the line meantthere was someone here... but maybe they'd gone hiking or something. If Icould just get close enough to grab something to wear...At last. Through the wet nylon of his rugby shorts I could see the shape of his speedos, blue and white vertical stripes, carefully cuddlin’ and shapin’ his bum. I started to get hard again. Luckily the water was so cold no one could see.We lay a bit more in the sun then I suggested we get lunch. There was a caravan parked in a bay off the beach road sellin’ hot dogs and chips, and we walked over to it. Every metre along the way I was conscious of his body, of the slight spring in his step as he walked,. More

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