Harry Keogh was not a natural born voyeur, just a curious boy. Last Tuesday down here on the beach he’d stumbled on something, and he hoped to do so again today. That was why, after he delivered up his stone to Miss Gower, he checked that no one was watching him and cut away across the dunes and round towards the other side of the reedy marsh. It was only a little more than a hundred yards, but in half that distance he’d already picked up fresh footprints in the sand. A man’s and a woman’s; and of course he’d seen ‘Sergeant’ and Miss Hartley heading this way, as he’d suspected they might.
Earlier, Harry had conveniently ‘forgotten’ his bathing briefs; this had left him free to pursue his own interests, for Jimmy had subsequently gone off to swim with the rest of the boys. What Harry was looking for was simple: he wanted pointers. Sitting next to Brenda in the cinema and pressing his knee against hers (or, when she leaned close to him, squeezing her upper arm so that his knuckles touched her small breasts through her coat and jumper) was all very well and even sort of exciting, but it seemed pretty tame when compared with the games teachers Lane and Hartley got up to!
Finally, coming over a dune and crouching down he located them sitting on a patch of sand within a semicircle of tall reeds – the same spot where he’d seen them last week. Harry backtracked and quickly chose a place at the crest of another dune where he could lie down and peer through a clump of crabgrass. Last week she (Miss Hartley) had been playing with ‘Sergeant’s’ thing, whose size Harry had found extraordinary. Her sweater had been up and ‘Sergeant’ had had one hand up her skirt while the other fondled and tugged at her firm, large-nippled breasts. When he’d come, she had taken a handkerchief and delicately soaked up the glistening semen from his belly and chest. Then she’d kissed him on the tip of his thing – actually kissed him there – and start to put her clothes right while he just lay there like a dead man. Harry had tried hard to imagine Brenda Cowell doing that to him, but the picture just wouldn’t develop in his mind. It was too alien.
This time it was very different. This time it was going to be what Harry really wanted to see. By the time he got himself settled down on his stomach, ‘Sergeant’ had his track-suit bottoms right off and Miss Hartley’s short white, pleated tennis skirt up around her waist. He was trying to get her knickers off, and his thing – even bigger than last week, if that was at all possible – was jerking about on its own like a puppet on some unseen string.
From beyond the dunes, far off down the beach, Harry could hear the kids shouting and laughing where they swam and splashed in one of the big tidal pools; the sun burned the back of his neck and ears where he lay perfectly still, his chin in the palms of his hands; sand fleas jumped only inches from his face. But he allowed nothing to distract him; his eyes remained riveted to the sexual activity of the lovers in their reed bower.
At first she seemed to be fighting ‘Sergeant’, trying to push his hands away. But at the same time she unbuttoned her blouse so that her breasts jutted up naked in the sunlight, their pointed tips unbelievably brown. Harry sensed a sort of panic in her, reflected in his own suddenly pounding blood. It was as if she were hypnotised, with ‘Sergeant’s’ penis a snake where it swayed over her belly – mesmerised into lifted her bottom so that her lover could remove her panties, and into bending her knees and parting her legs. In there, she was dark as night – as if she wore a smaller pair of black knickers under her white ones. Black, yes, and then pink where she put her hands under her thighs to open herself for ‘Sergeant’.
Harry caught a glimpse of her, pink, white, curving, dark, brown, but that was all. Climbing between her legs, his incredible penis disappearing into her in a moment, ‘Sergeant’ allowed no more. All that was left were feet and legs and the gym teacher’s tight buttocks starting to lunge, shutting off the view. The watching boy gasped, felt himself grown hard inside his pants, rolled on his side to relieve the throbbing of his genitals – and spotted Stanley Green coming over the dunes, scowling, his little pig eyes full of venom!