Wet T-shirt Competition for Guys

We drove to Budrim and looked at all the nice houses. We gazed at the views, and enjoyed the countryside.

We walked along the beach front at Moolooalaba, there were many people on the beach. The sand was white, the sky was blue. We wandered along the boardwalk, watching the bush turkeys and the lizards basking in the sun. We bought fish for dinner and prawns for tomorrows lunch at the fish markets.

We wandered back as the afternoon shadows grew longer and the people started leaving the beach.

All those boys washing the sand off under the beach showers were a sight to be seen. Wet and muscular with their shorts sticking to them, it was like a wet t-shirt competition for guys. And of the guys showering together, (sharing the beach shower, not actually soaping each other up, you understand) I imagined as boyfriends. I pictured which one did what to the other one, you know, as you do. Or is that just me?

You've got to love the beach. It takes me back to all those years spent down the Great Ocean Road, and all those bare-arsed surfers changing on the side of the road between their panel vans. But, of course, it is more than that, it is the smell of the beach and the taste of the salty air on your lips. It is the sunshine and the crisp white sand seemingly all perfectly framed by the blue of the sea. The squeak under your feet, dipping your toes to feel the temperature of the water, the first splash on your skin, before swimming out to where the waves break, then riding the rollercoaster back in. It is freedom and inhibition, it is the endless possibilities as vast as the infinite expanse of water in front of you.