“Seems like a long way to go just to change a light bulb,” Cotten says.
Cotten is a photographer and wants to snap photos of the reef for a travel agency. I love his name and couldn’t resist asking where it came from. He said he was named after Joseph Cotten, an actor from the 40s and 50s, who played Jedediah in Citizen Kane. I lied and told him it was one of my favorite movies. I’d never seen it before.
“Amazing, I get that a lot,” he says.
I’d like to get Cotten in bed.
We met at a resort in Jamaica about three weeks ago. He was on a calendar project photographing the Caribbean. I was on vacation. Retired from the U.S. Coast Guard myself, I now worked with lighthouse restoration along the North Atlantic coast. My home is one of the old lighthouses off Tybee Island in Savannah, but I found myself becoming a more permanent resident of the Caribbean each time I visited. I’d plan to only stay two weeks at a time, but that would quickly turn into two months. My longest venture here was five months straight just last year.
Cotten was chatting up the bartender in the lobby bar about how he needed to get some shots of lighthouses for one of his calendars, and some shots out on the water for the travel agency project. The bartender suggested he come talk to me. He was shy, but two nights later he stopped by my table with a bottle of rum and two shot glasses. Admiring his scruffy jaw and almond brown eyes, I wasn’t concentrating on the favor he was asking and I quickly committed to taking him along with me the next time I went out to the lighthouse.
Going to the reef was like going to church for me. It was a boat trip I preferred making alone. I’d even stay a night on Low Cay sometimes just for the heck of it, sleeping in the base of the lighthouse or out on the white sand beneath the stars. I loved to suntan nude out on the white sand.
After half a bottle of rum I was picturing Cotten without his shirt. His quarter sized nipples and shutter-like ribs protruded under his tight white tee like writing in the sand. As the rum took effect, he slipped a hand under his shirt to finger his navel. I nonchalantly looked down across the table and got a glimpse of soft downy hair across his flat furry belly. I wanted to be between his legs, gliding my tongue down his treasure trail.
A few days later, he was lounging by the pool in just a towel and sunglasses. I stood there for a second; unbeknownst to him, tracing that line of chest hair with my eyes up from his navel to a thick bush of dark hair nestled between his slightly defined pecs. Circles of hair also bordered each dark nipple. His lotion soaked skin glistened like diamonds beneath the hot coastal sun. Had we been the only two by the pool, I would have reached down and teasingly popped open his towel. I saved my perverted thoughts for the beach at Low Cay.
“I’m going out to the lighthouse in a few days if you want to go along. Got your camera ready?” I asked, startling him.
“Absolutely,” he said jumping from his day dream and lowering his sunglasses to look at me.
“Great. Meet me at the dock on Saturday around noon.”
“Is this just a day trip or will we be staying overnight?” He asked.
“Does it matter?” I said, trying to flirt.
“No, I guess not.”
I winked at him and watched his eyes fall down the outline of my body. The elastic of my trunks was concealed by a small pooch around my midsection, but my arms were huge from years of manual labor. My stomach was tight and my pecs were massive. The black hair on my chest and belly was thick and course, but I kept it trimmed short. Cotten liked what he saw. He bit his lip and said he’d see me on Saturday. I turned to walk away and could feel the weight of his eyes on my ass.
The wind and the waves whipped my schooner all over the water. Cotten snapped a few pictures of the boat when we first set out, then put the camera away because he was afraid he’d lose his grip and it would fall into the water.
“Is it always like this?” He asked.
“You don’t like it rough?” I teased.
He grinned and sat back down. I told him to have his camera ready because the reef was just up ahead. I knew the waters well enough to know the channel would be still. Cotten jumped back and forth from each side of the boat as quick as a gymnast, snapping various photos of the two islands. I admired his agility and pictured his long legs in the air over my shoulders.
“Going all the way up the channel?” He asked.
“Can’t. Too narrow at the other end. The reef will scrap the boat. Here’s where we dock.”
I had built the dock myself over a period of six months. It reminded me of something you’d expect to find over a fishing pond back in the states down south, but surprisingly it had held up. I tied the boat to the end, but also put the anchor down just in case. A clear patch of bone white sand led from the dock up through the cactus-like coral garden. Cotten snapped photos all the way up the bank. Just then, a horn sounded in the distance. Cotten looked up to see two dark men with rifles waving at us as their boat jetted by. He ducked, lying down on the ground.
“Oh shit!” He said, his face buried in the sand.
I waved back at the men and then busted into a hard laugh. Cotten looked up at me with a red face, embarrassed.
“What the fuck?”
“That’s the coast guard. They know we are here,” I explained.
I helped him up and he dusted the sand from his legs. I unlocked the door to the lighthouse. Cotten leaned against the bottom of it and pointed his camera to the sky to take a long shot of it looking up. I envisioned myself standing behind him, spreading his legs and mounting him while he leaned against the lighthouse wall.
“Wait till you see the view from the top,” I said.
“I can’t wait.”
We climbed the stairs around the erect metal tube to reach the balcony at the top. Cotten scurried around the catwalk like a child, snapping photos of every angle. I went about my work, checking the rotators and gears of the inner workings of the lighthouse, and then changing the bulbs. It was a routine I knew very well and could finish in less than twenty minutes.
“I’m done.”
“Already? I want to go down and get some more exterior shots of the reef and the outside of the lighthouse,” he said.
“Go ahead.”
He hurried down the steps and ran out into the sand. I took my time. While he explored the reef, I retrieved a blanket and some fire wood from inside the base of the lighthouse. I laid the blanket out across the bleak sand and began digging a fire pit.
“What are you doing?” Cotten asked.
“Building a fire.”
“Are we staying the night?”
“Sure, why not? You sound worried.”
“Where will we sleep?”
“Anywhere we want. Right here, or on the boat, or maybe we won’t be doing much sleeping at all,” I hinted.
“What did you have in mind then?” Cotten asked, letting his camera rest at the end of its strap around his neck. He took a seat on the blanket next to me.
I cupped the back of his head in the palm of my hand and pulled him to my mouth. The scratch of his face and the feel of his dry cracked lips against mine excited me. I explored his warm mouth with my tongue as he let his body go limp and give way into mine.
“What if they see us?” He said pulling away from me and searching the water for the coast guard.
“The sun will have set by the time they come by again,” I assured him.
He leaned back to put his camera away and peel off his shirt. I helped him free his arms. He pounced on top of me like a wild tiger attacking its prey. Unbuttoning my shirt, his mouth found my nipples. As he nibbled at me with his teeth, I slid my hands into the back of his shorts and cupped his firm bubble butt in the palm of my hands. I thrust him into my crotch and against the rising bulge. Cotten fell between my legs to free my load, spilling my massive cock against my stomach. His eyes grew wide at the sight of my large mushroom head. I took him in my grip again and forced him down on it.
As he deep throated my cock, I
leaned back and looked up at the lighthouse behind us, imagining some merman’s large cock jutting up out of the sea with its long slender shaft and hot red cap. It and the smell of the salt in the air thrilled me as Cotten serviced my own growing rod. He yanked at my ball sack while teasing my slit with his tongue. I pulled him away from my penis and back up to my lips for a second to enjoy the sunset and the taste of my cock on his breath. He wanted to grab his camera to capture the sinking sun, but I wouldn’t let him.
“Leave this one for just you and me,” I said.
He smiled and nodded, then began sucking on my ear lobe. I knew that one spot behind my ear would turn me into a mad man. As soon as Cotten had found it, I was on top of him like a bear. Pinning him beneath me on the blanket, I ripped open the zipper on his shorts and yanked them off of him. He arched his back like a cat beneath me, but I refused to let him get up.
With my hands on his hips to hold him down, I moved my face down between his ass cheeks to find his tight pucker with my tongue. I spread his ass with my hands and pushed my tongue deep inside him. He bucked like a wild horse, rocking his ass against my face to fuck my mouth.
Cotten collapsed on the blanket in a fit of ecstasy but I was no where near done with him. I spit into my hand and lubed my cock up with my saliva. Then, I placed the head of my throbbing cock between his ass cheeks. I stroked my cock in his crack with long slow glides, teasing his hole to the rhythm of the ocean tides now swallowing up the edge of the island.
“Fuck my hole, man,” Cotten begged.
I spit again down onto my meaty mushroom head before piercing his tight hole with it. With the crash of the waves, his taut muscles gave way allowing me to nose my cock deeper into him. My knees were pushed off the blanket and sank into the cold sand as Cotten rocked back and forth meeting my thrusts. Cotten laid down flat on his stomach on the blanket as I rode him. I leaned down, pressing my body against his back. Nibbling the back of his neck and ears, I loved the feeling of being on top of him and dominating him. I pounded his hole harder, fucking him as if we were animals in the wild. Cotten moaned gently beneath me.
“C’mon man, let it out. No one can hear you out here. It’s just you and me,” I whispered in his ear.
I slapped my waist against him harder, digging my cock deeper into him to entice him. I wanted to make him scream. He arched up, raising his knees beneath me. I leaned back up and took him by the hips, pushing and pulling him into me. As my balls slapped against him, his moans and grunts got louder and louder. He was soon screaming out across the water as I shot my massive load into him.
We collapsed in a heap on top of each other onto the blanket just as the sky had grown dark. We lay there for a while being quiet. Cotten’s heartbeat and slow breathing beneath my chest was just as relaxing as listening to the waves. I felt my cock growing limp and sliding out of him.
“Man, it’s like we are the last two men on earth out here,” he said, rolling over beneath me.
“Imagine being out here all by yourself,” I said kissing his chin.
“I bet you jack off a lot. Do you walk around naked?” He asked.
“Maybe.”
“You should let me take some pictures of you in the morning when the sun comes up?”
“With or without clothes?” I asked.
“Depends on what time the coastguard come by, I guess.”
“I know their schedule like the back of my hand,” I said.
“Mmm, so maybe we can have a repeat performance in the morning?”
“Who says we are finished now?” I asked, rolling over so he was on top of me.
His cock had just started to grow limp, but it stood at attention again once I took it into my grasp. I reached up and pinched his nipples while stroking him. The breeze from the sea ran up his back and through his hair. He leaned back and closed his eyes as I massaged his rock hard cock. Cotten cried out again when he came. His thick juice shot out across my chest, hitting me in the chin. I lapped at it with my tongue, tasting his salty come.
When the fire had died out, we got up and walked back to the boat. I let Cotten decide where we would sleep. He chose the deck of the boat. Hermit crabs crawled across the edge of Low Cay’s sand as we walked across the island to the dock. When the sun came up in the morning, Cotten was up before me with his camera in hand.
“You’re always working,” I called out to him.
“I’m always out to capture the perfect shot.”
“The money shot, huh?”
“This island, the boat, the water, you—it’s been a nice mix of business and pleasure,” he said.
“Come over here then and let’s relive last night.”
Without hesitation, he put his camera down and dropped his shorts. As he lay down next to me and pulled back the blanket, my cock greeted him, standing at attention parallel to the Low Cay lighthouse in the distance.
DIG
What was he thinking? He was an entertainer. Not some superstar of stage and screen, but a bit of local color. He knew he had fans and followers. They were here every weekend watching and tipping. He had only worked this bar, The Hole, for a few months; but already he could tell business had picked up.
And he knew it was all because of him.
He knew that eventually the owner would change the marquee. Instead of just WEEKEND DANCERS, they would put his name up there. DIG RASTER. His full name, or at least his stage name, was Sappy Dig Raster. But he was saving Sappy for when he eventually did break into film.
What were the other dancers thinking? He was way out of their league and therefore, he refused to share the stage with any of them and had it put in his contract that he would never dance first. There was no legal contract put down on paper, but rather an agreement he had made with the owner in exchange for a few "favors."
He didn't mind the extra work down on his knees. It was part of the job description, and although it was never discussed, it was expected. And when it was all said and done, he was taking in quite a few more tips than the others. He was just better.
The others were thin pale boys with freckle laced skin and pimple spotted backs. They came and went, with no respect and no work ethic. Some John would smack them around a bit in the back room when they refused to do what he wanted. They'd get their feelings hurt, their faces bruised, and not show up again the next night.
But he believed you get what you deserve. And Dig believed he deserved everything. He was tall and tan, smoothed and muscled, and a far better dancer. He was a God compared to the others, a sexual machine that commanded attention and owned the stage when he danced. The others were weaklings in his presence. They gathered around him like school children wanting to hear a story when he came off the stage. Dig ignored them and pushed them aside, and yet, they still were in awe.
What was the owner thinking? Dig Raster was definitely the best they'd had on stage in a long long time. He was beautiful, but he was an asshole with an attitude. He coaxed the owner into giving him more money right from the beginning, even got down on his knees for it. The owner never even asked for any thing in exchange, but it was the best blow job he had ever received. Dig had a hot little mouth. Much better than these other kids that danced.
And Dig kept coming back for more. The owner let him. After all, it was money well spent. And if Dig felt he was doing the owner a favor, let him think it. The Johns liked him, and as long as they were staying to watch, the owner was making money.
What were the Johns thinking? They fumbled over each other to get closer to the stage when Dig danced. He teased them and made them smile. He graciously accepted their ones and fives tucked into the top of his boots or into his silk purple thong. And there would always be one in the crowd that caught his eye. A big spender that rolled out a bunch of twenties.
Dig would acknowledge him after his song was up, invite him to the back room. He'd dance just for him, teasing him by revealing more skin. What little skin was left covered by the tiny thong already! The man would wo
rship Dig, bow to his body and take him into his mouth. And Dig would let him, all the while graciously collecting those twenties. Dig just closed his eyes and pretended it was someone else
What was Dig thinking? It was a spell, a trick, a dream come true. Business men in suits with money to spend. Wives at home that couldn't please them. Appetites for body licking and cock sucking. An orgy of dancing and teasing every weekend at The Hole. And there was Dig. Sappy Dig Raster was the ring master of this homoerotic circus tent. It made him smile.
Because Dig was a dancer.
Token of Morocco
The Bay of Tangiers was much like any American beach I had been to. The sand was the same, the temperature was almost unbearable, and the coast was scattered with palm trees. It sits at the most Northern point of Morocco. However, it was like no other place on earth I had ever visited because I could look to the west and see the Atlantic Ocean and look east and see the Mediterranean Sea. The sky was so clear that I could look North across the water and see Spain, and the water was such a deep marine-blue that it looked like a picture-perfect post card. I found it hard to believe that further inland was the Sahara.
The coast of Morocco was truly an oasis, but after three days of being here I was ready to see something else. I had flown to Morocco with a friend for a surfing expedition. I was lodging with him and the other seven members of the surfing team representing America. I can’t even swim.
Bennington's Place Page 7
