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Wet as a very wet thing
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robinl@s054.aone.net.au
http://www.home.aone.net.au/what4/
May 99
TOS, Kirk, [NC17], masturbation

I think that's how my headers go.

Challenge Story: This story was written in response to a challenge on
alt.startrek.creative (write it online, no betas, include your favourite pair, 
involve swimming). Also, I promised Ned a TOS story with no Spock, AND its 
National Masturbation Month. So three birds with one stone here.

Ok, so there's a tiny bit of Spock <g>. Go sue me.

Paramount own Trek. I just play with it.

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Kirk stretched out long legs across his towel, and reached up to dig fingers
in the sand behind his head. It was muggy, the air humid, hot, and even with
the fading light the heat persisted. He rolled over onto his tummy. Nice to
take a break. Nice to get away for a little while, and to enjoy it knowing
that it was only a short leave and the ship couldn't get too lonely without
him. The ship? Kirk grinned. Yeah yeah. The ship and who was on it.

He thought about Spock then. Pleasant thoughts, sure, and ones that made him
glad to be face down on his towel. The tight black swimsuit got even tighter
as he wiggled his hips into the warm sand. Should have dug a hip hole first.
Thinking about Spock was something he'd been doing a lot of recently. After
their last "session" together, and seeing the way Spock's arse rose up to
meet his hand, and the red patterns left by his fingers and palm on the smooth
white cheeks and the Braille like feel of the welts under his fingertips.
Mmmmmmm. And the warm wet feel of Vulcan come dripping down his bare leg as
Spock was driven to orgasm by the application of his strong right hand on a
bare white bum.

Kirk wiggled some more, and not without a small groan escaping his lips. He
glanced around the  beach, and noted only a few couples at the southern end,
sitting close together, enjoying the twilight. Damn! Could probably still be
arrested for wanking in public. Kirk pouted, and considered his
alternatives. Perhaps this inconvenient erection would just disappear of its own 
accord? Nup. No chance. Perhaps if he ground a little harder into the sand? 
What,and look as if he was humping the sand fleas? No way. Hmmmm.

He rolled over onto his back again, and looked down. Sunsets lasted a long
time here, and the light was good enough to see the tented swimsuit, pushed
upwards by his defiant cock. He bent his knees up and crouched over. Shit.
He looked like some pimply adolescent, horny and rampant, lusting after bikini
clad bimbos. What did they do? Yes!

Kirk pushed to standing and sprinted for the surf. In a clean dive he plowed
into the next wave and came up gasping. The water was slightly cooler than
the surrounding air, and the feel of it surging around his near naked body made
him smile. He dived under the next wave, and swam under water eyes open,
watching the sunset turn the churning waves above him red and gold and
black. When he surfaced, the water was up to his shoulders and he was past the
break. He slipped his trunks down and off, holding them in one hand while the 
other latched on to his erection. Ahhhhh! Balancing on his toes, Kirk bobbed
happily as the waves rolled around him, providing a natural rhythm for his hand. 
His balls were caressed by the wave action and his cock warmed and cooled by his
hand and the water. Mmmmm, I wish Spock was here. Water would be too cold.
But when he does *this*. . .OH! Kirk ran a thumb over his cock head and groaned,
eyes closed. His hand moved faster and his feet left the sandy sea floor for
longer periods as he floated, curling round the action at his groin.

He came, gasping, but quietly, cautious even at this time of the other
people on the beach. The last thing he wanted to see was a rescue party helping 
a "drowning man". He reached out and started swimming back to shore, then
waded through the break. It wasn't until he reached his towel that a niggling
feeling hit the back of his head. Something he'd forgotten. Something he had
to do and hadn't done. Was something missing? He shrugged, trusting his
subconscious to work it out later. He wrapped the towel around his waist,
and headed for the beach house where he was staying that night. The porch light
was on; the only light now that the sun had finally set. His bare feet
padded up the weathered silvered timber steps, and he cast a final glance up at 
the stars. Yeah, he missed them, missed the ship, missed Spock. But it was only
a short leave.

Back on the beach, the waves lapped at the fine white sand and the line of
flotsam and shells. They added a new item to the debris. One new pair of
black Speedos.

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