I have very fond childhood memories of the seaside. They were days of crisp sandwiches and drinking orange juice out of those little glass mixer bottles through a straw in a pub garden. We would go to the beach in the morning then at lunch time walk up to the pub at the top of the track. My mum would bring buttered bread and then my parents would buy me a bag of crisps of my choosing and I would fill my sandwich with them and drink my juice while my Dad had a pint and my Mum and G & T. There was a little playground in the pub garden and I would play there while they ate their sandwiches and talked and read and then we would have return to the beach for the afternoon. It would nearly always end with me nodding off in the back of my Dad’s old Volvo as we drove back to my Grandparents house.
It was idyllic and perfect and I have tried hard to give my own kids similar childhood memories.
Maybe it was then that I fell in love with the sea or at least the seeds were sown of a love that would remain with me throughout my life. I think they truly blossomed though when I went to college by the sea. No longer was it just about summer and sunshine and sandcastles but about the scent that permeated the town especially on days when the sea was rough. You could almost taste the saltiness in the air. It was about sitting on the beach wrapped up in your winter coat as the wind whipped your hair round your face and the noise of the waves crashing on the beach blanked out any other sounds. It was about walking along the coast road to nights out at the club on the pier. There was nothing about it, even the wind and rain that I didn’t like. I think it was sitting on that beach in the winter when I realised that the sea made me feel alive in a very primal way. There is something about it that just stirs the blood. Sitting on a hill watching a beautiful sunset or laying on a field of bluebells or paddling in a stream comes close, it is that connection with the earth, with nature and life that calms the nerves but the sea seems to be like that but more!
It is alive, and fierce, and beautiful, and unknown, and dangerous, and big. It can’t be tamed or stopped it is utterly free and is absolutely essential to life on earth. It is wild and that wildness stirs something in me. It makes me want to strip off my clothes; even in the winter I look at the sea and want to feel it touch me. I know it will be cold, so cold it makes me gasp for breath and leap back out of it but if you stand there long enough and let it flow over your feet and up your legs you start to grow accustomed to it chilly caress and when you put your shoes and socks back on later and you finally get back out of the wind you can taste the salt spray on your lips and feel it clinging to your hair and your cheeks flush red almost as if you have been sitting in the sun.
Of course the sea in the summer can be very different but no less beguiling, in fact maybe even more so especially in places like Greece where the sea has a sparkling jewel-like beauty all of its own. Where the water is so perfectly clear you can see right down to the bottom and gentle waves lap at the shore. It is water that you can easily imagine a mermaid living in; a beautiful home suitable for a beautiful creature. It might not have quite the same wildness about it as a crashing and churning Winter Sea but its beauty is just as raw in my opinion and I don’t think I could ever get bored of it.
I don’t think I have a kink for the sea as such but I definitely have a passionate love for it, there is a romance to the sea which will forever charm me and the way it makes me feel alive also does tend to make me horny too. I have never fucked on a beach, I think sand is a no in that regard but a pebble beach might work and definitely in the water. I would love to do that so much. In the absence of that though I will happily find a quiet corner behind some rocks or in a little deserted cove and enjoy the pleasures of a joyful wank with the sea as my only witness.