Beach Bums_Gay Erotic Fiction

by Neil Plakcy

  “Do you want to fuck me, Rick?” he asked suddenly.

  A bolt shot through me. Here was an offer to do exactly what I should not do. Anonymous sex on the beach. A violation of nudist etiquette. Inappropriate activity that would further diminish the reputation of Rooster Rock and would reflect upon all naturists.

  “Yeah,” I said, fingering the head of my engorged cock. It was so stiff that I was on the verge of coming already. “I do.”

  With a wicked grin, Vance produced a bottle of lubricant. He slicked my dick and slipped an extra-strength condom onto it. I was not about to enter him abruptly; though my cock was swollen painfully, I took my time exploring his body. I kissed the nape of his neck. His back was muscled, so I could follow a pattern with my fingers while I traced his spine with my lips. His cleft was deep, his buttocks massive. I drove my face down his anal crevice, probing aggressively with my tongue. Vance moaned with enraptured delight.

  I could bear the pressure no longer. My balls were tight and painful, my cock so engorged that it threatened to split open if it did not spit. Taking the lubricant, I slid a slick finger into Vance’s ass. He moaned again. “Yeah, Rick, do me that way.”

  I lubricated my finger again and twisted it in Vance’s ass. He wiggled his rump with explicit invitation. Two fingers slid in easily; I opened him up and made him slick.

  Vance emitted a long howl, sounding like a feral creature in heat. “I’m ready to take it, Rick.”

  “I know.” I barked a short laugh. Climbing atop him, I pressed the head of my cock against his asshole. “It’s going in.” Vance drew a deep breath as I pushed into him. His ass opened around me, though he fit me tightly.

  “What a rectum you have, Vance,” I panted. “What a perfect fit. It’s like sticking my cock into a toaster. You’re hot, tight, and grainy.” I thrust, savoring the friction.

  “Oh, ah, I’m coming.” Vance was wiggling and squeezing my cock as he shot his load onto his blanket.

  He had come so quickly that I scarcely managed ten strokes in his ass before his contractions and the odor of his spent cum sent warnings of oncoming orgasm rippling through my cock. I could have stopped then, made it last, but I did no such thing. I went for the pleasure. I thrust harder, humping Vance’s tight ass with all my might. My cock was carried up into a whirlwind of tingles that spun up my shaft and whipped my balls. The muscles at the base of my cock contracted inflexibly, a biting burst. I shot so hard that had Vance not insisted on protection, my cum would have traveled like a bullet through his digestive tract, knocking out his front teeth as it shot out of his mouth. Or such was my fantasy as I shot spurt after spurt into his ass while the sun beat down on my bare back, legs, and ass and the scents of wild rose, big river, and grape opened my senses to the rapture.

  Afterward we washed the tools of our sexuality in the river. The eyes of many naked men followed us, knowing eyes that recognized a milked cock and a fresh-fucked ass. Seeking solitude, Vance took my hand and we waded across the shallows to Sand Island, which is also clothing-optional.

  Large dunes rise on the river side of the island, but most of it is heavily forested. Hand in hand we climbed the dunes to get a better view of the nude sunbathers who had taken over the island. “Look at the ass on that guy,” I remarked, pointing toward a delicious specimen lying face down on his blanket.

  “Check out that guy’s cock,” Vance said simultaneously, indicating a different sun worshiper.

  “We’re a perfect match,” I said.

  “You’re a top, and I’m a bottom,” Vance replied with a giggle. Still laughing, we descended from the dune and strolled along the beach decorated with blankets, ice chests, beach umbrellas, and naked men.

  Vance and I spent the summer fucking like minks (gay minks—minks born with rainbow triangles on their heads). One bright day in late August, we were banging away in our secret meadow under the wild rose not far from the swift river, which opened us up to the rude intrusion of the beach patrol.

  “Give it to me,” Vance kept gushing. “Give it to me.”

  “No, boys. No. No.”

  Rolling off Vance’s ass, I shot most of my load into the air.

  “You can’t do that here. Never. Never.”

  I looked up at him. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m Winston. I’m a member of the beach patrol.” He lifted his yellow flag in demonstration.

  I gave Winston the once-over. He was rather tall, but he had the shortest cock I had ever seen stuck on a human male. His naked skin was deeply tanned, as if he spent every single day patrolling the nude beach. He had narrow shoulders but a pronounced chest. He had nice-looking legs that went all the way up to a set of cute buttocks. I guessed that he was, perhaps, five years younger than Vance and I.

  While we appraised his assets and his shortages, Winston delivered a detailed spiel about how Rooster Rock had declined during the last decade of the twentieth century as invasive willows had covered the meadows and dunes, giving shelter to illicit behaviors such as homosexual activity, voyeurism, and alcohol-or-drug-related violence. Naturist families interested in social nudism drifted toward Sauvie Island’s family-friendly nude beach, abandoning Rooster Rock to the undesirable elements.

  “Meaning us?” I asked. “We’re undesirable elements?”

  “Your day in the sun has run its course,” Winston proclaimed. “Family-oriented social nudism is returning to the Rock. The beach patrol has arrived to flush out the degenerates and perverts who ruin the experience for everyone.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vance’s lips twitching. He was trying not to laugh at Winston’s diatribe, and about to fail miserably. I shot him a wink and a significant look. Quick on the uptake, Vance caught on immediately. While I jumped to my feet and circled behind Winston, Vance rose to his knees and reached for the underside of Winston’s balls.

  “Oh, my!” Winston yelped. “You must not.”

  As Vance rubbed Winston’s perineum, Winston dropped the yellow flag he had been displaying so prominently and began to display a different tool.

  Winston cried out again, but more softly: “Oh, what are you trying to make me do?” I do not think he expected an answer. His enjoyment was patently obvious. Yes, Winston’s tiny cock hardened to its full four inches. He kept whimpering that our actions were impermissible, yet at the same time, through deed rather than word, he permitted all and invited more.

  I wasn’t entirely successful in suppressing a giggle, but truth to tell, his small penis was downright cute. And his ass was even better up close. He had a nice swell, a good rounded moon shape that made me want to caress it. Vance was still rubbing the underside of Winston’s balls, giving the man from the beach patrol an external prostate massage. He was also tweaking Winston’s cockhead with two fingers. So I gave in to my lust and explored Winston’s ass.

  Thus far Winston had stood frozen except for a few shattered protests, huffs, and wheezes, but when I ran my thumb up his anal cleft, he surrendered with a sharp intake of breath that resembled nothing less than a backward howl.

  I was a bit loud in my joyous exclamation. “Winston, you’re a butt boy.”

  “Oh, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Winston managed, pushing his ass back. “Oh mighty Zeus, I’m doing the very thing I’ve been fighting against.”

  “Isn’t that always the way, Winston?” I kissed the small of his back and let my tongue graduate slowly and inevitably into his butt crack. I stopped only to philosophize: “We always end up doing or becoming the thing we resist the hardest.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t be doing this,” Winston yelped. I touched my tongue to his asshole and felt the shudder of total surrender. “Don’t do it,” Winston wailed. “Don’t stop. I want you inside me. I want your cock in my ass. I want you to fuck me.”

  “Winston, you’re just like me,” Vance shouted with delight. As he fiddled with Vance’s dick and balls, he intoned mindlessly, “We’re here; we’re queer; we take it in the
rear.”

  Vance and I got Winston down on our blanket. The perfume of previously spilled cum mingled with the fragrances of the wide river, the pools of standing water, and the trees. Winston breathed deeply of these odors and writhed in utter rapture as we brought him close to orgasm, time after time, without letting him fall into quick bliss.

  “Fuck me, guys. I want it.”

  “Sure, Winston,” I promised. “You’re gonna get stuffed.” I did want his ass. It was cute and utterly desirable. However, I had a scheme that I had been wanting to try, and this seemed the perfect opportunity.

  “I’ll slip a condom on your cock, Rick,” Vance offered.

  “No, Vance, how about I put the condom onto your dick. I want you to give it to Winston.”

  “I’m not a top.”

  “You can do it, Vance.” I pointed toward Vance’s cock, which was thick, hard, and ready to go, and then I pointed toward Winston’s four-inch erection. “You’ve got more than two inches on him. This time you’re gonna pitch.”

  “Yeah, pitch it to me, Vance,” Winston urged. “I’m not designed to pitch, but you are. You’ve got six and a half inches of solid meat.” Winston fiddled with his little cock and then pointed toward his girlish ass. “I’m built to catch.”

  Protesting no further, Vance let me prepare his cock for action. He climbed onto Winston and rubbed his cock between Winston’s prominent buttocks. “I’ve only tried this once,” Vance confessed, “and it didn’t work out.” However, he kept humping, and his cock looked as if it had grown even more rigid, were that possible.

  “It’s gonna work out really well this time,” I suggested. The scene was making me hot. I fingered my cock head while I watched Vance position his cock against Winston’s asshole and drive it inside. I’d shot my cum into Vance not thirty minutes before, but I was ready to go again. Why not jerk off while I watched Vance fuck Winston?

  I poured lubricant into my palm and slicked my fingers. Gripping my cock shaft, I beat my meat while Vance rode Winston. Turning his head toward me as he squeezed Vance’s cock with his anal sphincter, Winston saw that I was jacking off. Can you believe it? The man winked at me. Giving me a few seconds to twist the head of my cock as though I were opening a bottle, he snitched, “Your friend is flogging his dolphin.”

  “Oh, you pervert, Rick,” Vance gurgled.

  Laughing, I jerked my dick toward his face. “Want a facial, Vance?”

  “Give it to me.” My beloved humped harder. Considered all the options. “Oh, next time.” Decided where my cum should go. “Give it to Winston now.” Found his measure and his depth. “He needs it worse than I do.”

  “Oh, you’re giving it to me, Vance,” Winston moaned, oblivious of all else. “You’re sticking it to me so good, and I love taking it.”

  Blissful tingles raptured up my cock. I jacked and screwed my cockhead with my fist as the pleasure mounted. “I’m gonna come on your face, Winston. Here it comes. Taste it.”

  Pounding my cock toward Winston’s panting mouth, I savored the ripples fluttering through my cockhead, along the shaft, and even up my ass. My nipples crinkled as the full force of orgasm struck. My lips twitched and my eyelids fluttered. Then my muscles contracted, and a spurt of cum hit Winston’s upper lip. Winston grinned with pleasure as he licked his lips, all the while hunching his ass up to meet Vance’s frenzied thrusts.

  I came more than I would have believed possible. It was, after all, my second ejaculation, with thirty minutes in between. Hot spurts of cum decorated Winston’s lower face and jaw line. After my last shot, I pressed my cock against Winston’s lips so he could lick the last drops. Engaged as I was, I did not hear the rustling of the tall grass nor feel the shadow that passed over me. Winston did, but he was still pinned under Vance, who was luxuriating in Winston’s ass with the afterglow of orgasm. I heard the voices at the same time Winston turned his face away from my cock.

  “No, boys. No. No. You mustn’t engage in homosexual acts in the bushes. Never. Never.” The two naked women who had caught us were pointing at Vance’s ass with their yellow flag. My cum dripping from his chin, Winston favored the women with a sickly look.

  “Winston!” one gasped. “Not you! You’re supposed to be setting an example.”

  Vance pulled his cock out of Winston’s ass. Winston’s anal sphincter gave a popping sound as it emptied. Vance pulled the cum-filled condom off his dick. Obliging, one of the women held out her waste disposal sack so he could drop the condom in with the other effluvia that the patrol had cleaned from the beach.

  The consequences of our exposure were hideously ironic. The patrol let Vance and me off with a warning, while they banned Winston for life. Since he had been one of their number, his fall was the greater crime in their eyes. Not that this minor disaster affected our lives much. Vance and I never had sex on the beach again, mainly because we did want to support the naturist cause. Giving the anti-nudism forces another reason to restrict the human spirit was in no one’s interest.

  Instead, Vance and I switched our activities to a gay bathhouse where no one minded what we did. Frequently, Winston joined us, which kept me terribly busy since Vance still preferred catching to pitching. After all, what is a top supposed to do with two bottoms?

  MIX AND MATCH

  Dominic Santi

  My job is fucking sweet. Ever since I started grad school, I’ve taken a summer hiatus to work as a lifeguard at the county park. I spend my days perched in my tower, surveying my domain, or swimming in cool, clear river water that’s so pure I damn near feel guilty peeing in it. My business attire is a loose white tank top and comfortably baggy trunks that show off the form I’ve maintained since I led my college water polo team to Nationals. The bright red shorts let my balls breathe, yet hint at the respectable size of my cock. Designer shades are a reimbursable business expense once a season. Sunscreen is provided at no cost. All summer long, hordes of gorgeous young things from the local university come to strut their stuff along my hot sandy beach. And every July, the university’s international exchange programs swing into high gear.

  It’s like having the fucking United Nations banging at my door. I’ve done and been done by every shade of brown, black, white—hell, there’s even been tangerine a couple times when somebody got carried away with faux tan lotion. They swim in my river, sleek toned bodies gliding through the water and playing in the waterfall where Wolf Creek tumbles over a low granite ledge and into the main part of the river. And when they think I can’t see them, they drop their trunks in the shade of the trees behind the farthest changing room and suck each other off with an uninhibited enthusiasm that puts every porno I’ve ever seen to shame.

  The scenery here is downright beautiful. Last week I was in love with a Costa Rican volleyball team. They set up nets in the sand for their practice games. For four solid days, I was treated to a display of hard, brown, competitive bodies leaping and diving while I dreamed of being the hot, blond sand spraying up between their legs and into their crotches. Since I was on duty the whole fucking time the team played, my fantasies centered pretty heavily on a particularly buff hitter whose shorts rode so low on his ass that he had to keep pulling them up after each awesome jump. I saw just enough of those firm, brown globes to keep my dick drooling. I had plans to bury my face in his crack and lick ass until he begged me to fuck him—and all his buddies, one after the other.

  They all had girlfriends—during the day. I was distracted a few times by unsupervised kiddies who, along with their idiot parents, had to be reminded that those who can’t swim should not go out into deep water with a current. But once the team and I got to know each other, three of them came back to hang out with me in the evening. I put up the “closed” sign across the entrance to the parking lot. Despite my execrable Spanish, once we were stripped down and skinny dipping, I got my ideas across pretty well.

  The water in the pool at the base of the waterfall was warm enough to be comfortable, even as the shadows deepe
ned. I lined up José, Ernesto, and dream boy hitter, Hermán, so they were holding onto outcroppings on the low rock wall along the outer edges. As they floated on their backs, hands firmly gripping the wall, I moved between José’s open legs and crouched into the chest-deep water. I cupped his balls and peeled back his long, smooth, coffee-colored foreskin. As he moaned and arched into my mouth, I bathed the last of the salty tang from his warm, hidden folds. When he was twitching and moaning and his silky sensitive dickhead was so hard it poked free of its cover all on its own, I filled my mouth with cool water and sucked in his cock.

  José came so hard he yelled. His buddies thought that was hilarious. Turns out he really thought he was straight and that was the first time he’d ever had a man’s mouth on his dick. Whatever. His friends can help him get past his straight-boy illusions later. In the meanwhile, I segued into doing Ernesto and Hermán. They both wanted their cocks sucked and their assholes rimmed and a good, hard fuck up the ass while they came. Rubbers work in the water, so I was glad to oblige, eventually shooting my own high, white arc of spunk while I floated alongside the wall with Hermán’s fingers up my ass and Ernesto jacking my dick and even straight-boy José kissing me like he couldn’t get enough of my tongue.

  The following week, I had a Japanese computer science major on his first trip away from home, a tenured Native American Lit professor, and a couple of USMC officer candidates who were as pearly white as my sorry ass. On Tuesday, within an hour of each other, but on different breaks, I sucked off an Egyptian and fucked an Israeli behind the same shrub by the changing rooms. Later on, as I slathered Caladryl on my knees, I wondered if they’d run into each other at the health clinic when they were getting their poison sumac treated. They were both going to be considerably more affected than I was, though I was still careful to use vague terms as to where on my person I’d been “poisoned” when I put in the emergency maintenance request to get the offending plants removed.