The waves are storm tossed, the foamy crest of each melting into the next as the grey mare gallops powerfully through the surf.
He sits gracefully astride her, strong hands twisted in her mane. Arms corded. Bare feet training through the water as she prances.
His low riding jeans are soaked and cling to his tightly bunched thighs as salty droplets shimmer on his washboard stomach and broad shoulders.
He throws back his head, feeling the wind tug his spiky hair and his pale green eyes sparkle with the joy of the moment.
He is alive and glad of it.