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Diana looked at Tony and giggled. They picked up the gear and found a soft area of sand. "Okay, so let's get comfy, DiDi. I decided I wasn't even going to get my bathing suit wet today. Off it goes." Diana knew that was the real reason to come all the way here, away from the beaches near the village. Still, her natural shyness was still with her. She held her head down as she was taking off her outer wear. Then, before releasing the ties that held her bikini on, she glanced over and say that, as always, Tony was faster than she. Tony was standing on her bare feet, letting the breeze from off shore play over her naked skin as she held her hand up, shading her eyes, looking out to sea. She really did look beautiful, to Diana's eyes. And her dark nipples were erect. That was clear, and Diana didn't mind looking anymore. But it still felt odd, even as she felt her own puffy nipples becoming hard. Diana quickly dropped her bikini onto the sand, and then, trying to act naturally but. At the age of fifteen, I was thin and had a rather pale, melancholic complexion. My natural air of melancholy was often mistaken for unhappiness caused by some trouble, hence my fellow students always tried to cheer me up in vain. I knew exactly the cause of this melancholy: I was in love, not with a particular person, but with the notion of love and masculinity. My burgeoning body longed to be touched, kissed, dominated. Its thirst demands to be quenched by a virile body. Every night, in the dark silence of the night, my hand would caress my entire body and experience the unknown excitements of new territories. I would pause for a long time at my penis, wondering at its changing shape, the hard, powerful phallus in contrast with the softness of the balls, I would gently touch it first, moist as if between the crimson lips of a blooming youth, then strike it violently, my whole body and mind borne u*********sly to the bottom of the darkness by an uncontrollable whirlwind of passion..
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