by Neil Plakcy
Table of Contents
Title Page
Introduction
HANG TEN
BLUE STAR BOY
WHEN WADE’S WOODY WAS RUNNING
POOL THERAPY
SANTA BARBARA SURF PUNK
BLUE GREEN
IT’S ALL ABOUT THE WAY YOU THINK
SAMURAI OF THE SURF
T-ROOM SURFERS
TAKING THE BAIT
SURF STUD INITIATION
SLEEPING IN THE SAND
CALIFORNIA DREAMING
SEBASTIAN INLET
THE WATER- BOY
MR. SURFER
SURFING BONEYARD
CHANGING TIDES
ROGUE WAVE
BEST-LAID PLANS
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ABOUT THE EDITOR
Copyright Page
INTRODUCTION
On my first visit to California, many years ago, I spent an afternoon at Huntington Beach, watching a line of slim young guys in wet suits dare the crashing waves. I must have taken a whole roll of film of those neoprene-clad surf masters.
Years later, when I set out to write my first mystery novel, Mahu, I wanted my hero to be a surfer. I was entranced by their mastery of the waves—and how innately sexy I thought they were.
Four novels later, I still think surfers are sexy—and obviously many of you do, too, because I received lots of great submissions for this anthology.
When you think about surfing, you probably think of Hawaii first—I know I do, because of my mystery series set there. But there are great waves all around the world, from Australia to the Jersey Shore, Cocoa Beach to California. The stories here span the globe, but what they all have in common is handsome, sexy surfers who love other men.
From the romantic lyricism of Danielle de Santiago’s “Sleeping in the Sand” to the down and dirty sexiness of Bearmuffin’s “T-Room Surfers,” there’s something for every surf lover here. You’ll journey to Australia, Tunisia, Oregon, Cape Cod, and Malibu among many other delightful destinations.
Surf’s up, dude—hope this book does the same for you!
HANG TEN
T. Hitman
The rough fumble of a hand inside the leg of his board shorts pulled Tyler Cosgrove back from the edge of sleep. His tongue was heavy with the taste of hot coals, and he couldn’t be sure if he was dreaming. Eyes half-opened, he glanced down. From his reclining position behind the wheel of the SUV, still sluggish from his catnap, it took Tyler a while to focus on the set of fingers as they glided along the outside of his muscled, hairy thigh, then over and around it toward the inside.
“Garrett?” Tyler moaned, thinking of his best friend, the one he had traveled cross-country with in search of the best waves.
A whispered voice answered, “Naw, dude, it’s Jed. Remember?”
Recognition hit, thanks to the dusting of dark red hairs along the knuckles of the fingers yanking on his meat. They dipped into the sweaty region above Tyler’s right knee and, from there, up into the cuff of his leg. He suddenly remembered that he’d passed out behind the wheel of the SUV without any underwear on. The other boy’s fingers scraped the sensitive, perspiration-soaked skin of Tyler’s balls.
Tyler sat up until he was even again with the window. The action washed a blast of warm ocean air over his sweaty face. The heady smell blowing in off the Pacific helped drive away the last of his confusion. “Yeah, I remember,” he said, tipping his head toward the passenger side.
A handsome dude lay stretched out on the reclining seat, and one of his hands was squeezing Tyler’s nuts. “Good,” the other boy grunted. He reached deeper between Tyler’s legs and grasped the root of his cock.
Tyler bucked on the seat. “Where’s Garrett?”
“Don’t worry,” Jed huffed. “He’s out there, with my buddy Dillon.”
Tyler glanced up from the intensely desirable image of the twenty-two-year-old surfer jerking on his cock inside his loose shorts to the ocean vista outside the SUV’s grimy windshield. The incredible majesty of Black’s Beach stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, a mix of towering bluffs, natural and sand beaches, and vibrant blue swells, some of the best surfing to be found in Southern California.
True to Jed’s claim, Tyler noticed two figures paddling out to those swells on their boards, doing S-strokes to catch the premium waves. Half a dozen locals were also visible farther down the beach. Tyler relaxed. They were safe from prying eyes, parked off to the side of the lot. Reaching down, he squeezed hold of the hand holding on to his cock. “I’m not worried,” he sighed. “Garrett’s cool about this stuff.”
“Yeah, well, Dillon ain’t,” countered Jed. “He’d go terrorist on me if he caught me strumming another dude’s dick.”
Tyler redirected his hand up to the other boy’s handsome face and cupped him by the chin. A tall, wiry guy with a mop of dirty blond-auburn hair—not truly red—intense brown eyes, and a trimmed goatee and mustache that framed a killer set of cocksucker lips, Jed was dressed in a T-shirt and loose jam shorts that showed off long, hairy legs and the lone tattoo of a starburst on one of his muscled calves. His sandals displayed big, perfect feet.
“Why don’t you stop strumming and start humming, dude,” Tyler growled. He let go of Jed’s head long enough to pop open the top button of his board shorts and lower the zipper. His cock was already so excited by Jed’s attention it had begun to stain the tent over his crotch with a circle of sticky wetness.
Jed glanced nervously toward the ocean. After seeing they were indeed safely alone, he reached into Tyler’s unzipped shorts and hauled out seven long, lean inches of surfer dick. “Sweet,” he moaned. The lone word cut through the warm breeze gusting through the open window and teased the head of Tyler’s cock.
The action sent electric pinpricks racing up and down Tyler’s legs in concentric waves. Jed clamped his forefinger and thumb around the dark-haired root of Tyler’s tool, forcing it to bone out fully. Then, like the ocean breeze, he taunted it with short, quick flicks of his tongue.
Tyler grunted out a breathless, “Fuck,” and gripped the back of the other boy’s head. He raked his fingers through Jed’s mop and forced him down fully. Jed swallowed Tyler’s cock all the way to his sweaty nuts.
Tyler closed his eyes and smiled. He could hardly believe his luck! On only their second day in Southern California and their first full morning on one of the best surfing beaches in the country, he was getting his dick licked by one of the local wave jocks.
“Suck my cock,” Tyler growled. “Go down, dude!”
Jed did as he was ordered to, and Tyler quickly felt the pressure in his nuts build closer to unloading between the other boy’s lips. He’d only come a few times since the start of the cross-country drive, mostly in Garrett’s face, a few times in his own hand. He drew in a deep breath of the intoxicating salt air and opened his eyes to see Jed’s lips clamped around his cock. “You like that?” Tyler taunted in a mock-angry voice. “You like sucking on my cock?”
Jed moaned his answer. The vibration from his throat muscles traveled up Tyler’s already-tensed cock, pushing him to the edge. As if to drive home the point, Jed pulled back so that just the helmet of Tyler’s dick was between his lips. Fresh sweat broke on Tyler’s forehead.
“I’m gonna jizz, dude!” he grunted. He gripped Jed by his ears, and when the local boy went down, Tyler pushed up. He pistoned into Jed’s face a few more times, until the crashing of the waves outside and the heat inside the truck seemed to double in intensity.
Through clenched teeth, Tyler howled out a blue streak of expletives.
He felt Jed open wider, releasing the suck-pressure on his cock. The entire world went out of focus as Tyler flooded the other surfer’s throat with what felt
like a bucket of his junk.
Through half-closed eyes and the layer of fresh perspiration coating his face, Tyler peered down to see Jed greedily swallowing to keep up with the deluge. Simultaneously, Jed looked up and, seeming to sense Tyler’s interest and with the visiting surfer’s cock still squirting, parted his lips. Tyler saw the blast of come he’d already shot onto Jed’s tongue as well as the wad his dick was still dumping. He growled out another string of swears and yanked out his tool, soaking Jed’s hairy chin with the final squirt.
The ribbon of juice glistened in the other boy’s goatee, an image too tempting to pass up. Tyler pulled Jason’s face to his and clamped their mouths together. The taste of his own fresh explosion kept Tyler’s dick at its full stiffness.
Jed dipped his tongue into Tyler’s mouth. Between kisses, he asked, “You do this with Garrett?”
“What do you think, dude?” Tyler answered. He flashed a cocky smile. To drive home the point, he pushed Jed back in the passenger seat. Before Jed could react, Tyler yanked up his shirt, exposing the other boy’s taut stomach and the hint of a dense, honey-auburn bush of curls peeking over the lip of his waistband. Tyler gave Jed’s shorts a hard tug. The California boy lifted his ass off the seat to accommodate him. A second later, Jed’s manhood sat exposed in the light of the Pacific morning.
Like Tyler’s, Jed’s cock looked to bone somewhere close to the seven-inch mark—only it looked twice as thick. “Whoa, dude,” Tyler gasped. He took hold of Jed’s magnificent tool by the base and gave it a playful pump. Jed seized in place beneath him. Tyler stroked it a few more times, using an upward roll of his fingers. The extra skin under the crown of Jed’s dickhead swelled up, swallowing his helmet up to the peehole.
“Suck me, man,” Jed moaned, his breath stinking of Tyler’s come. “Suck me off, like you do Garrett.”
At first, Tyler teased the underside of Jed’s shaft with long, slow licks that quickly coaxed out a pearl of salty liquid. Tyler cleaned up the goo and from there went to work on Jed’s fat, sweaty nuts. He gave each ball a gentle suck, and even lapped behind them, tasting the funk of Jed’s asshole.
Jed bucked on the car seat. His shifting underneath Tyler made all seven thick inches collide with the other boy’s forehead. Tyler again took Jed’s cock firmly in hand and aimed it at his open mouth. He gulped its head and all but the last two inches between his lips, taking them as deep as he could without choking. The two young men remained in that position, with Tyler humming up and down on Jed’s cock and tugging on his hairy nuts until Jed nutted.
Tyler felt the other boy’s cock go from rubbery-hard between his lips to the toughness of stone. Jed moaned loudly and, while hugging Tyler’s head to his crotch, shot four spurts of surf-jock wad across Tyler’s tongue.
Tyler swallowed the prize down and continued to lap up the musky dregs dribbling out of Jed’s pisshole until the other boy pulled him back to mouth level. Again, they kissed, swapping and sharing each other’s taste.
Jed took hold of Tyler’s cock. “You’re still hard,” he said, giving it a few firm strokes. “Up for another round?”
“Yeah,” Tyler said. He peered out through the windshield in the direction of the water to be sure they were safe. But when he did, to his shock, he realized Garrett and the other new guy, Jed’s buddy Dillon, were gone.
Tyler hiked up his pants and jumped out of the SUV, then took off down the beach. “Garrett?” he shouted, but his shouts went unanswered, and Garrett was nowhere in sight.
“They were just here, dude,” sounded a voice at Tyler’s back. Tyler ceased running, dug his toes into the sun-warmed grains of the beach, and spun around to see Jed racing to meet him. The other boy looked more confused than worried. “Where’d they go?”
Tyler again faced the ocean. Black’s Beach stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, far enough that they were the only two bodies for a good few hundred yards. “I don’t know,” Tyler huffed. He scanned the water—some of the best surfing on the West Coast, thanks to a deep underwater canyon right off the shoreline that funneled the swells into big waves—for any sign of the two men. Finding none, he tipped his gaze up to greet Jed’s heavy-lidded brown eyes. “Shit, Jed, you don’t think they bumped into a school of sharks?”
Jed focused on Tyler, then the beach directly behind him. A cocky grin broke on his face. “Land sharks, maybe. Looks like Dillon and your bro had to take a piss.”
Jed motioned his chin toward the distant dunes. Tyler turned to see two sets of footprints cutting across the sand toward an outcrop of rocks and sedge at the base of the soaring natural cliffs. Both Garrett’s and Dillon’s long boards stood vertically against a boulder, almost hidden by the brush.
“What the fuck?” Tyler asked. He gave Jed’s taut, ripped stomach a slap with the back of his hand. “Come on. Let’s find out what’s going on.”
They crossed to the cleft in the dunes and carefully stepped over the rocky ground on their way to the hidden beach grotto where the other surfers had stowed their boards. In his concern, Tyler had failed to even consider the obvious. But as he and Jed snuck past the boulder and surfboards and crossed into a region of overgrown beach grasses, the sound of a half-moaned grunt alerted them to the truth of what was really happening.
“Go in slow, dude,” huffed a familiar voice. “I only done this a few times with Tyler.”
“Yeah, fucker, I can tell. You’re tight!”
Tyler turned back to see his own look of disbelief mirrored on Jed’s handsome face. He saw the other boy take a heavy swallow. Jed’s Adam’s apple knotted his unshaved throat with the effort. “Come on,” Tyler whispered.
He forged on, with Jed so close to his back they nearly tripped over each other. They stepped into the secret cleft in the dunes to see the last thing either of them had ever expected, up till a few moments ago: Garrett bent over a large outcrop of wind-smoothed rock, legs spread, his shorts yanked off his ass and discarded on the ground. Tyler noticed Garrett’s slightly haired pucker was wet with spit and glistening in the broken sunlight that streamed over the cliffs.
Perched behind him in a classic fuck-stance was Jed’s buddy, Dillon. He, too, had shucked his shorts and stood wearing only his expensive sunglasses. His nakedness displayed the tone and sculpture of his body, from his muscled legs up to his hairless chest and strong arms; his square-jawed, handsome face with its perpetual, mean scowl; and bleached blond hair.
Just as Tyler focused on Dillon’s package—two fat balls in a shaved, meaty sac swinging below an uncut knob aimed straight at Garrett’s spit-lubed asshole—Jed gasped a disbelieving, “Dude!” at his back, loud enough for the others to hear.
Dillon and Garrett whipped around to see their private duo had become an unexpected foursome. Dillon reached for his discarded board shorts.
Jed stopped his good buddy from putting them back on by tearing them from Dillon’s hand. “I don’t fuckin’ believe you, dude.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Not what? You about to shove your dick up his butt?” Jed gave Garrett’s ass a firm smack with the palm of his hand. “Instead of sticking it in mine?”
Dillon turned to face them, his hard cock tick-tocking between his legs. Jed took hold of Dillon’s shaved, uncircumcised tool and gripped it tightly. Dillon groaned a breathless string of swears.
Tyler moved into the close circle of sweat-drenched bodies. “Don’t let us interrupt,” he said, running a hand down Garrett’s bare back.
“Yeah,” Jed chuckled. “Let us help you finish what you were about to do.”
Before Dillon could argue, Jed sank to his knees and gulped his buddy’s hooded dick between his lips. Jed’s hand on his hard, smooth ass steadied him in place. After a few skilled sucks on his knob, Jed spit it out and licked the glistening sweat off Dillon’s shaved sac. “Fuck, yeah,” Dillon grunted, stepping toward Garrett’s waiting asshole, which Tyler was eating out and fingering.
“Do it,” T
yler sighed, backing away. “Fuck my boy Garrett’s ass.”
Dillon lined his dickhead against Garrett’s waiting pucker. Garrett shuddered noticeably. “Go slow, dude. Slow!”
Dillon pushed forward and buried his cap into the tight ring between Garrett’s spread cheeks. Tyler massaged his best pal’s sweaty back and, after seeing how Dillon’s invasion of his asshole seemed to both scare and excite Garrett, he eased himself down between their legs to tip the scales in favor of the latter.
Garrett’s cock was up to its full seven inches and already leaking precome. Tyler quickly gobbled it into his mouth as Dillon forced another few inches up Garrett’s ass. Eventually, all of the surfer’s girth invaded Garrett’s butt, leaving his bald low-hangers banging against Garrett’s cheeks.
“Sweet,” Tyler heard Jed sigh. He spit out Garrett’s dick to see the other surfer kneeling across from him, on the other side of Dillon’s meaty balls. While Tyler worked familiar territory on Garrett, Jed looked intent on exploring the area between Dillon’s legs. Tyler watched Jed glide his tongue over Dillon’s come-tanks in a backward arc that put his goateed face square on his pal’s asshole. The sound of slow, wet licks joined the chorus of moans above Tyler, who resumed sucking Garrett’s rock-hard cock.
At one point, Garrett grunted, “Dudes, I need a dick in my mouth as well as up my can,” and Jed slipped free of his tongue-hold on Dillon’s asshole to accommodate him.
Without breaking rhythm, Dillon smoothly maneuvered so that he was still fucking Garrett while Garrett and Jed blew each other. Tyler snuck up behind and hunched between Dillon’s legs; in that position, he managed to lick one man’s nut sac and the other’s ass for a good ten minutes, sucking, rimming, and plowing in the secret cleft under the afternoon sun.
Dillon’s increasingly violent fuck-thrusts jostled Garrett into squirting first. “I’m coming,” Garrett howled around a mouthful of Jed’s root, his eyes half-shut, his body convulsing with a mix of agony and pleasure.
