Hi Elise Good to see you've got a visual of something I describe in my book "Mardi Gras"! Moments later, five tall, strong men carried a long wooden boat down to the water. As soon as they launched it, four of them pulled their brief swim trunks up into their butt-cracks, bent over and pushed their craft into deeper water before vaulting into their allotted places on the wooden planks that served as seats. With practiced precision, each man grasped a long oar threaded through rowlocks on alternate sides and started heaving in unison. At the back of the boat, the fifth member stood with his legs braced to cope with the sudden shifts of motion, one hand on the gunwale and the other on the long oar trailing out the back as a sweeping rudder. Spray splashed over the edge, soaking boat and men as they rowed through the shore break. The man at the back yelled "Pull" as the boat surged and seemed to hang in the air for a few seconds as they crested a wave then landed with a crash on the other side, sending more spray into the air. The men picked up the pace as they strove to get the boat to the next wave before it broke. Raw power and aggression. The man at the back, a bronzed Adonis, his arm and leg muscles bulging as he strained to hold himself and the boat steady. "Why do they wear their swimmers like that?" I asked. Simon glanced at the surf-boat and shrugged. "So their bum doesn't get rubbed by the cossie, I expect." I watched for a few moments as the surf boat made it safely beyond the break then turned and headed parallel to the shore. "Well, I don't know about you, but the sight of well-built males with bare asses bending over is always a turn on for me." Simon snorted. "Show ponies, a lot of them . . . only interested in taking part in surf carnivals." He pointed to a small group, a mix of young and old, male and female, clad in long-sleeved bright yellow shirts, red baggy shorts and floppy red hats. "They're the real deal. Weekend volunteers who are here to rescue people." Alison (writing as A.B.Gayle)
Surf Boat Illustrations
Good to see you've got a visual of something I describe in my book "Mardi Gras"!
Moments later, five tall, strong men carried a long wooden boat down to the water. As soon as they launched it, four of them pulled their brief swim trunks up into their butt-cracks, bent over and pushed their craft into deeper water before vaulting
into their allotted places on the wooden planks that served as seats. With practiced precision, each man grasped a long oar threaded through rowlocks on alternate sides and started heaving in unison. At the back of the boat, the fifth member stood with his legs braced to cope with the sudden shifts of motion, one hand on the gunwale and the other on the long oar trailing out the back as a sweeping rudder.
Spray splashed over the edge, soaking boat and men as they rowed through the shore break. The man at the back yelled "Pull" as the boat surged and seemed to hang in the air for a few seconds as they crested a wave then landed with a crash on the other side, sending more spray into the air. The men picked up the pace as they strove to get the boat to the next wave before it broke. Raw power and aggression. The man at the back, a bronzed Adonis, his arm and leg muscles bulging as he strained to hold himself and the boat steady.
"Why do they wear their swimmers like that?" I asked.
Simon glanced at the surf-boat and shrugged. "So their bum doesn't get rubbed by the cossie, I expect."
I watched for a few moments as the surf boat made it safely beyond the break then turned and headed parallel to the shore. "Well, I don't know about you, but the sight of well-built males with bare asses bending over is always a turn on for me."
Simon snorted. "Show ponies, a lot of them . . . only interested in taking part in surf carnivals." He pointed to a small group, a mix of young and old, male and female, clad in long-sleeved bright yellow shirts, red baggy shorts and floppy red hats. "They're the real deal. Weekend volunteers who are here to rescue people."
Alison (writing as A.B.Gayle)