Footprints in the Sand

Ben and his best friend Riley had planned and dreamed and saved their money all year, eating far more Super Noodles than was healthy. Bussing tables at a trendy restaurant in Jericho didn’t pay well, but it was all an overworked university student could aspire to, and it was flexible. Ben needed to work around the demands of his architecture course and Riley usually had his arse super-glued to a seat in the library, as he was reading linguistics. The academic workload at Oxford was relentless—finals had been a living nightmare—but now it was over, and Ben and Riley had forgone the champagne-soaked celebrations to save every penny for their trip.

Then, three days before they were due to depart for sunnier climes, Riley’s grumbling appendix had thrown a major wobbly. The only compensation for emergency surgery was the blue-light ride in an ambulance in the company of a hot, bossy paramedic who had promised him a date once he’d healed.

Typical. Trust Riley to find himself a dommy type without even trying. Ben kicked at the waves. Riley had insisted Ben shouldn’t cancel the trip because he was laid up. Riley had gotten his money back through his travel insurance, but Ben didn’t have that option. With Riley’s encouragement, he had packed his bag with skimpy shorts and even skimpier swimwear, groaned at his appalling passport photo and caught a train to the airport. Scared but determined to have some fun, Ben had decided that for a few days he could fight his nerves and pretend to be the out and proud submissive he was in his head. But now he was here in Italy, his courage had deserted him. The only people he’d spoken to so far were the receptionist at the main building and the porter who had shown him to his waterfront cabin, though he had spotted a whole mix of men wandering around the place looking a lot more comfortable than he felt.

This place is gorgeous. The layout works perfectly. Ben cast a newly minted architect’s eye over the site. Well-spaced cabins, set back from the water and shaded by trees, followed the gentle sweep of the bay. Each had a unique design, and Ben loved the veranda and plunge pool at the front of the one he’d been allocated. He wandered back towards it, paddling through the shallows before turning upslope. His feet were far too pale, as were his legs sticking out from a conservative pair of navy shorts. He still wore his travelling clothes because, having dumped his bag and kicked off his shoes, he’d made a beeline for the water. Now he needed a dip in his private pool to cool off, along with a frosty-cold beer. The fridge in his cabin was stocked with goodies, and he was glad Riley had insisted on somewhere all-inclusive so that they wouldn’t have to worry about what they were spending.

Unpacking was not at the top of Ben’s priority list, so he ignored the duffel sitting on the king-sized bed. He stripped, letting his clothes lie where they dropped. After a quick mental debate, he decided the place was private enough to go without swim shorts and, feeling brave and somewhat liberated, he made it to the plunge pool without being spotted. He was just about to get in when he realised he’d forgotten his beer and had to run back to the fridge, dangly bits bouncing. His face heated for no reason at all and he laughed at how ridiculous he felt. Riley would have been rolling with laughter had he been there. Ben grabbed a bottle, then danced back towards the pool. He clambered in, grateful to sink beneath the surface.

The water was cool, but not so cold as to make him wince. It felt great against his overheated skin and he lounged, sipping his beer and watching the beach. Every now and again a couple or a small group of men wandered past, and he received a few friendly waves when he was spotted. He waved back, a little melancholy that he didn’t have anyone to take a stroll with. He almost choked on his beer when two men, one leading the other on a leash attached to a wide leather collar, walked by. Ben’s fingers strayed to his bare neck as he tried not to stare. The man he assumed to be the dominant partner wore shorts, but his submissive was completely naked, his cock ringed and half hard. Beneath the water, Ben’s dick twitched. He prayed that he wouldn’t be noticed and called out as a voyeur, but the pair were completely engrossed in each other and ambled by without a glance. I guess they’re up for being watched anyway, or they wouldn’t be taking a constitutional like that.

A yawn caught Ben by surprise. Wow, travelling took more out of me than I thought. An early night with a book isn’t such a bad idea. He clambered out of the pool, wondering if he could shake dry like a soggy pup, but opted instead for a thick, fluffy towel from the wet room. Having retrieved his e-reader, he dumped his bag in a corner. The fierce air conditioning in the cabin soon had him snuggling beneath the light duvet on the bed. The mattress was comfortable, the feather pillows cloud-soft beneath his head. This is the life. He sighed happily, the sound converting into another yawn. Eyelids growing heavy, he gave up on the idea of reading and closed his eyes. He promised himself that a good night’s rest would set him up to be more adventurous the following day.