Beach Bums

by Neil S. Plakcy

  “So, uh, do you have someone I can call?” Bryant asked.

  I looked over to see him flashing a cell phone at me as if I wouldn’t know what he meant.

  I sighed. “Not really. I moved out here last month to be with my—with the person I was seeing. But things didn’t exactly work out.” That was putting it mildly. “I’ve been looking for a job, but I don’t have anything yet. No family, no friends…”

  “Maybe I should just take you to the hospital, then.”

  “No health insurance.” He looked resigned, and I felt bad for the guy. He certainly didn’t ask to be stuck with some random guy bleeding in his car. “If I could just have a few more minutes with your lovely heater, you can leave me here and I’ll call a cab.”

  “Your buddies left you with your wallet?”

  Fuck. I shifted my weight and realized that my back pockets were empty. I moaned, and this time when he spoke he sounded sympathetic. “Look, I have to get ready for work. You can come back to my place and get cleaned up and have a nap or something, and when I get off I can take you back to wherever you belong, okay?”

  “I don’t know…” It was incredibly generous, and I suddenly felt guilty thinking of how much I’d probably inconvenienced him already. God, I hope I’m not bleeding on his seats.

  “It’s either that or I drop you off at the police station, where they’ll probably insist on the hospital and the fifth degree about what you remember. I mean, I can do that, too, if you prefer.”

  “Shit. I guess… thank you.”

  “Alrighty then.” The car pulled away from the curb, and that was the last thing I knew until Bryant gently shook me awake in front of his apartment.

  I climbed out of the car on my own and even though it hurt like hell, I could walk by myself again, thank goodness. Bryant unlocked the door and as I followed him in, Jack made a beeline for a filthy blanket on the couch, which he playfully savaged for a minute before sprawling out across it. “Um, so, I need to shower and get to work. TV’s there, there’s some snacks in that cupboard you can eat if you’re hungry. Or whatever’s in the fridge, but I don’t cook much. I should be back by like five.”

  Bryant disappeared into the bathroom, and I sat down heavily on the couch. Jack immediately flopped over toward me, laying his head in my lap in an obvious ploy for a good scratching. “Hey, buddy,” I said, obliging him. His fur was like silk, and I sighed in pleasure as I ran my fingers through it. I must have dozed off again, because it felt like only seconds later that the bathroom door swung open. I tried to keep my eyes on the floor, but I couldn’t help peeking as Bryant emerged wearing nothing but a towel and looking as delicious as I could have hoped for.

  His shoulders were just as muscled and perfect as I’d guessed, but even I couldn’t have dared dream of the chiseled chest and the delicate curves of his abs with just a dusting of dark hair leading down under the towel. I shifted uncomfortably and leaned forward to try to hide the bulge that had appeared like magic in my jeans—it was, remarkably, the only place I didn’t feel like I’d been kicked last night.

  By the time he reappeared with clothing on, I’d gotten a firm grip on myself and was hopeful I could make it through the encounter without embarrassing myself. “Thank you for letting me wait here,” I said as he came back.

  “It’s cool,” he said, shrugging uncomfortably. He crossed to the kitchen and grabbed an energy bar before turning back to study me. “You really look like shit. Feel free to use the bathroom and get yourself cleaned up. I put out some clothes in my room that should fit you if you want to change.” He paused. “I was going to say you could sleep on the couch, but you might have to wrestle the dog.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, but he was already shaking his head.

  “I’ve seen you doze off twice already. You can take the bed. Just do me a favor and wash the blood and sand off first.” He smiled then, and I nearly embarrassed myself again. My pulse couldn’t help but react to the way it warmed and softened his entire face. Fortunately for me, he glanced at a clock on the wall, swore softly, and produced a bike from behind the couch. “I’m off. Back soon. You can knock at the door downstairs if you need anything–Anita’s pretty cool.”

  As the door shut behind him, I turned and faced Jack, who was looking up at me with huge, liquid eyes. “Guess I should check out that shower, huh?”

  My face startled me when I first caught sight of it in the mirror. The lower half of my face was smeared with blood from where an early punch had caught me across the nose, and my lower lip was split and fat. A fat bruise colored my temple—I assumed that was the one that had finally put my lights out—but my nose was still strong and straight, unbroken, and somehow my dark blue eyes remained unblackened. My body, as I peeled my clothes off, was colorful with bruises. My muscular frame was looking a little worse for wear, but I was aware that things could have been much worse.

  The hot water felt wonderful, and within a few minutes I felt good enough to start remembering the way Bryant had looked, wet and sexy and muscular as he came out of this very bathroom. I closed my eyes and my breath deepened as I let my imagination run away with me a little. My hand closed around the base of my cock and began to stroke softly as I pictured him stopping in the doorway, his eyes narrowed with lust as that beautiful smile crinkled his eyes.

  I gave a little squeeze and twist as I imagined him dropping the towel. My cock throbbed in my hand as I pictured how the rest of his body would look, his own cock hard and ready as it was exposed. In my mind I stood and crossed the room, and my moan filled the shower as I pictured myself kissing him. As our tongues danced together in my mind, my body trembled with pleasure and excitement and my hand sped up on my cock.

  I groaned with pleasure as I imagined Bryant dropping to his knees and pulling my shorts gently down around my ankles. My cock sprang free and he gazed up at me, his grin playful now. His hands traced up the insides of my legs, avoiding the ultimate destination as he laughed and teased and played with me, his eyes never leaving my face as I began to moan and quiver.

  “God, yes,” I whispered, and I imagined the way Bryant would smile back at me and lick his lips before reaching out, oh so slowly, to touch his tongue to the tip of my cock. I threw my head back and moaned, and felt his playful licks turn serious as his mouth closed around the head of my cock. He sucked gently, taking more of me into himself, and I groaned again, my fist pumping faster in real life as I pictured Bryant picking up speed, bobbing up and down over my erection as I brushed my hands over his face and hair and thrust back into his mouth. As I watched him, his eyes flew open and the look of lust I pictured on his face was enough to send me right over the edge.

  My eyes flew open as I came, moaning loudly and nearly doubling up at the pleasure that pulsed through me. Holy shit, that was hot! It was probably rude to masturbate in the shower of the guy who had saved me from freezing my unconscious ass off on the beach, but he was the hottest guy I’d seen half-naked in years.

  Feeling sheepish about my fantasizing, I finished scrubbing off and grabbed a fresh towel to go in search of the clothes he’d set out for me. They looked like a good fit, which was surprising since he was taller and a little thinner than me, but I put on the underwear and T-shirt, set the pants aside, and crawled into his bed to let my body rest and heal. I drifted off to sleep with the erotic scent of him surrounding me.

  “Cam?” The voice sounded like it was coming from miles away. I rolled toward it, my eyes still shut. Something smelled so… good. I inhaled deeply and felt a hand on my arm. “Hey, Cam.”

  My cock had quickly hardened at the smell and the sensation of soft sheets and that sexy, familiar voice. “Hey, baby,” I said, pushing back the covers to reveal my rock-hard reaction. I heard a gasp and the fog I was in cleared. Oh, fuck. My eyes flew open and I pulled at the covers at the same time.

  Bryant was standing over the bed, his eyes wide and his mouth open, but the expression wasn’t the disgust I had expected. As I
puzzled over that, a motion at the corner of my eye caught my attention and I glanced down to track it. Bryant’s cock twitched against his slacks again, and my own eyes widened.

  “I’m sorry,” Bryant said, misunderstanding my expression. He started to back away.

  “I’m not,” I blurted out. Bryant froze, and the precise lustful look that had set me on fire in my imagination flared to life in his eyes.

  “I don’t want to take advantage,” he started, and I sat up in the bed, letting the covers fall away.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “Not really, no,” he said on a strangled chuckle. I pulled his T-shirt up over my head, and Bryant leaned toward me as if pulled by an invisible string. I reached out hesitantly and rested my hand on his hip, and Bryant moved as if a dam had broken inside him, whipping off his own shirt and flowing forward to straddle me on the bed, pressing me back into the pillows.

  “There’s just one thing,” I whispered, reaching up to cup my hand behind his head. He raised his brows inquisitively and I grinned. “I like to be on top,” I said, rolling him with me so that I knelt over him in a tangle of bedding. I felt the move jostle and stretch my bruised muscles, but when my eyes narrowed it was as much from lust as from pain.

  “Oh God,” he moaned. He arched up toward me and I delighted in the wild lust that teased over his features.

  “You okay with that?” I asked, lowering my face over his.

  He reached up and kissed me in answer, letting his tongue play over mine for a moment before I took control of the kiss. We stayed frozen just like that for several long moments, only our tongues moving, teasing over one another, before I curled my fingers in his sun-kissed hair and pulled his head back to bare his neck. As I moved down his body to lick and nibble at the tender, exposed flesh, he gave a whimper of pleasure and shifted his hips to rub his rock-solid erection against me.

  “That’s hot,” I whispered in his ear, and my hot breath made him buck again and reach for my cock. I eased back to shuck the borrowed underwear and he watched, eyeing me hungrily. “I look like a rainbow,” I joked, gesturing at the bruises across my torso. I was trying to ignore the throbbing along my ribs.

  “Bruises aside, you look like a wet dream come to life. If I took every surfer I’d ever ogled and rolled them into one, you’d still probably be hotter,” he murmured back, and I smiled as his hand went to his own cock, straining against his pants.

  I grinned back down at him and wrapped my hand around my cock for the second time that day, making sure to give my arms a little more flex than necessary. “This isn’t the first time today I’ve touched myself while picturing you naked,” I told him. He moaned and my grin widened. “You want to hear about it?”

  “Tell me,” he gasped, bucking his hips up as he rubbed himself through his slacks. His eyes were on my thick cock, hungry and a little wild. Fuck, was he hot.

  “I saw you coming out of the bathroom today, all wet and sexy,” I said, letting my head fall back as I stroked myself a little harder. “I thought you were straight, but I stood in your shower and imagined you anyway. I pictured you on your knees sucking me off.” His loud moan interrupted me, and I brought my attention back to his flushed face. “You like that?” He nodded, panting. “You want to suck my cock, Bryant?”

  He sat up slowly, looking hungry, and moved off the bed without taking his eyes off me. “I don’t mind being on top if that’s what a guy wants, but I’ve been waiting a long time for a man who would push me down on the bed and fuck me until I scream,” he said.

  My split lip was killing me, but my grin only got bigger as I turned so that I was sitting on the edge of the bed. “We’ll get to that,” I said, and with a moan that made my cock twitch, Bryant dropped to his knees in front of me and in one smooth move took my entire cock in his mouth. “Holy shit,” I said, throwing my head back as he swallowed me. When I glanced back down, his eyes were sparkling with pleasure as he knelt there, my cock buried in his throat and his face nestled among my pubes. His throat worked around me for another few seconds before he pulled back slowly and then, just as slowly, swallowed me again. He hummed in pleasure and the vibrations carried straight to the base of my spine.

  “I want to fuck your face, Bryant. How do you feel about that?” He moaned again, and I answered with a groan of my own before I stood up, edging him back, and ran my fingers through his hair. “You are one sexy fucking man,” I said, pressing on the back of his head to force my cock as far down his throat as humanly possible. He hummed his satisfaction as I rocked from side to side for a few seconds, then I pulled slowly back, feeling his tongue playing over the underside of my cock as I moved.

  My hand tightened to grip his hair, and with a grunt of exquisite satisfaction I rocked my hips back and then deep into his hot, tight throat. My sore muscles protested, but it was easy to ignore them when his throat tightened and my balls sent a jolt of pleasure through me. His lips, tongue, and throat played skillfully over me as I picked up the pace, fucking his face faster and harder, slamming deep into his throat again and again until the pleasure building in my balls was almost too much to stand. Then I pulled away from him and smiled at Bryant’s disappointed little mew.

  “I want to suck you dry,” he said, reaching for me again, but I held him back.

  “I thought you wanted me to fuck you until you screamed,” I reminded him, and he moaned and reached for the bulge in his slacks again. “Mmm, that’s really hot, you kneeling there fondling yourself like that.”

  “What can I say, Cam? You’re inspiring,” he said, continuing the stroke himself through his pants, reaching down occasionally to cup his balls or reaching up with his other hand to rub the back of his neck or tweak his own nipples. I resisted the temptation to stroke myself while I watched him—I wanted to be able to last when I started pounding into his ass. I almost needed to pinch myself to be sure I wasn’t dreaming.

  As I watched him, I reached over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer, glad to see a supply of condoms and a bottle of lube. I tore off a condom packet and placed it on the night table with the lube before I reached down and helped Bryant to his feet and out of his slacks. His cock was beautiful, almost pink compared to the lightly tanned rest of him, and long and slender without being too thin—much like the man himself.

  “On your knees,” I said quietly, and Bryant moved quickly into position as I slicked up a couple of my fingers. The dark red rosebud of his asshole clenched and released, practically begging for attention, and I moaned as I parted his cheeks and teased at it with the tip of one finger. He pushed back at me, and I laughed and teased for a few seconds more before slipping one finger inside him, fucking him slowly as he clenched desperately around me and moaned into the pillow. “More?”

  “Please!” he shouted. I smiled around my split lip and slid a second finger into him, pumping only a couple of times before I stretched him even wider with a third finger. “Oh, yes. Cam, that’s so good.” I continued to finger him with a steady rhythm as I reached for the condom with my free hand, tore the package with my teeth, and managed to slip it on without breaking rhythm.

  In one smooth move I pulled my fingers free, positioned the head of my cock at his hungry hole, and thrust home, driving myself deep inside him. Cam screamed and cried “Yes, fuck, yes,” into his pillow as I penetrated him. I gave him only a minute to acclimate, then with one hand on his shoulder and one on his hip I pulled back and thrust deep, pounding into him while trying to avoid slamming any of my bruised flesh against his body. He moved one hand to his cock and I moaned as he started to jerk himself off while I slammed into him, hard.

  It was a surprisingly short time before he cried out again and I felt his body pulse around my cock as he came. “That’s right, baby, give it to me,” I moaned, and my tempo took on a new urgency as I slammed into him again and again, holding off as long as I could to enjoy his wild screams and howls into the bedding. When I couldn’t hold back one more second I buried
myself deep and threw my head back to bask in the ecstasy that washed over me, starting at my balls and pulsing in waves through my entire body. For a minute, anyway, I felt good as new.

  It was several moments of panting, tangled around one another, before I felt strong enough to get up and get rid of the condom. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” Bryant said when I got back, “but I hope you’ll at least consider staying the night. I jog that beach every morning, but I’ve got to say, Cam, you’re the best beach find I’ve ever made.”

  TANIWHA

  Emily Veinglory

  John Henderson let the river current carry his kayak gently down the center of the wide brown river. He rested the double-ended paddle in front of him and leaned back. With his left hand he reached up to the large, roughly oblong pendant that hung around his neck. His stepmother had given it to him just that morning.

  “You be careful on the river, Hone,” she’d said.

  “John,” he corrected quietly. He never accepted how she used the Maori version of his name. You had to go five generations back to find Maori blood in his family tree and he hadn’t exactly been raised in the culture. “Just plain John.”

  “You take this, boy,” she said as she placed the smooth stone in his hand. “Make sure you don’t anger the taniwha.” She looked in his eyes. “You don’t want to anger the taniwha, or anyone he claims as his own.”

  John was always uncomfortable around Aroha. His dad had shacked up with her just after John left for university and married her a year later. Their second wedding anniversary had just passed, but John knew he still felt closer to the memory of his prim but doting mother than the very-much-alive Aroha Henderson, who included him effortlessly but haphazardly into her notion of family.

  John had felt the age in the stone immediately. Its shape was reminiscent of a tongue or a tiaha blade, and a faint face was etched in its tip. Aroha had reached up and tied the plaited cord around his neck, her warm breasts uncomfortably close to his face. John blushed as he backed away. He wasn’t sure exactly what the stone was, and whether he was being given it to hold or to keep. Either way he’d just wanted to be out on the river and away from all of… this.