Beach Bums Read online

  Reed put his hand on my thigh. “What do you say?”

  My skin tingled from his touch. I drained the last of my drink and said, “Whose place is closer?”

  “My hotel’s right next door, and I’ve got a king-sized bed,” Reed said.

  “Sounds like a winner,” Mike said.

  We dropped some cash on the bar and Reed led the way out. Mike reached for my shoulder. “This is all right with you, isn’t it?”

  Was I going to be honest and say no? That all I wanted was to go back to the time share together and fuck our brains out, just the two of us? The look in his eyes said this was something he wanted, and it wasn’t like he was asking me to do something painful or degrading. “I love you. If you want to do this then I’m right there with you.”

  He leaned over and kissed me. “That’s my K-Man.”

  We went in a side door of the hotel and Reed led us to his room, which had a lanai overlooking the beach. As soon as the door was closed, Mike said, “Here’s the deal, Reed. Kimo is too bossy sometimes, and he won’t do what I tell him to. How about you? You do what you’re told?”

  “Yes, sir,” Reed said. I could see his dick was rock hard and pressing against his cargo shorts.

  “Good,” Mike said. “Here’s what I want you to do first. Get naked.”

  It was almost comical to watch Reed hurry to unbutton and toss off his aloha shirt, then drop his shorts to the group and step out of them. He was wearing a pair of generic white briefs, and as he pulled them down his stiff dick bounced out.

  “Well, now, that’s a nice surprise,” Mike said, as he and I both noticed the barbell at the base of Reed’s dick. I guess Omaha is a more exciting place than I thought.

  “I know, I need to work out more,” Reed said, pinching the flesh at his waist.

  “You look just fine to me,” Mike said. “Now I want you to take off Kimo’s shirt.”

  I shivered at Reed’s touch as he began undoing the buttons of my shirt. Without prompting he leaned down and took my right nipple between his teeth as he finished shucking my shirt. I moaned with pleasure.

  It was weird to feel this man working on my nipples—and the sexual pull that resulted—and yet look up and see Mike watching, not participating. He was the only man I’d been with since we reunited, and it was strange and yet very sexy to be with someone else—especially with Mike right there.

  Mike stepped up close to me and I wondered if he was going to push Reed away. Instead Mike kissed me as Reed continued to work, using his fingers on the nipple he wasn’t sucking. It was almost too much sexual input—I felt overwhelmed.

  Mike was still fully clothed. He reached down and unbuckled my belt, then pushed my shorts and boxers down. I shimmied out of them and kicked off my deck shoes, so that I was as naked as Reed.

  Reed reached down and palmed my dick, and the feel of his hand, soft and a bit sweaty, was so different from what I was accustomed to—Mike’s work-hardened hands, the way he wrapped his hand around my dick and teased the head with his thumb.

  “That’s it,” Mike said, stepping back. “Work his dick. Get him all juiced up.”

  Reed continued his nipple play and began rubbing the flat of his hand up and down over my dick. As I watched, Mike pulled his polo shirt up over his head. He’d been working out more, and his abs rippled as he reached up and pulled it off, then tossed it to the dresser across from the king-sized bed.

  I felt a pang of love and longing as Mike unbuttoned his jeans, then unzipped them. He wore a pair of white cotton low-riding briefs, a stark contrast to his tanned chest and the silky black hair that covered most of his body. He stepped out of his running shoes and kicked off his jeans. His dick was stiff and already leaking precum onto his shorts, but he kept them on.

  Reed wrapped his hand around my dick, slippery with precum, and began to work it up and down. Mike stood there and watched for a minute, then asked, “So tell me, Reed. What’s your pleasure? You like to suck or get sucked? Fuck or get fucked?”

  Reed looked up at him, glassy-eyed with lust. “Whatever you like.”

  Mike nodded. “Well, then, down on your knees, pal, and open your mouth.”

  Reed obeyed, and took most of my dick down his throat. The feeling of warmth and wet was so overwhelming I almost came right there.

  Mike pulled down his shorts and stepped out of them, leaving them on the hotel room carpet, but I wasn’t about to complain. He leaned close to me once again and began kissing me. I felt his hand stroking my lower back, and he half turned so that his dick was close to Reed’s mouth.

  Without any prompting Reed switched from me to Mike. My dick was so hard it ached, and the drying saliva on it was cold in the air-conditioned air. “That’s it,” Mike said. “Get my dick nice and wet so it’ll slide right into the K-Man.”

  Reed pulled off for a second and said, “I have rubbers in my bag.”

  “Nobody goes into the K-man’s ass except me, so we won’t be needing them right now,” Mike said. “But thanks for the offer.”

  He gently pulled out of Reed’s mouth and stepped behind me. As Reed resumed sucking me, Mike grabbed my shoulders and positioned himself at my ass. Then, with one hand prying open my ass, he slammed his dick into me, his pubic hair scratching against my globes.

  If I hadn’t been so swamped by lust it would have hurt like a bastard. But instead the pain was absorbed into the endorphins surging through my blood stream and all I did was moan and lick my lips.

  Then Mike gripped my hips and started banging me, fast and furious. Tears welled up at the corners of my eyes. I felt like my ass was being plunged by a power drill. A soaring pleasure shook me all the way down to my toes.

  “I’m gonna…” I began, and Reed clamped his lips down on my dick and suctioned for all he was worth, and I squinted my eyes shut to focus on my pleasure. The orgasm surged through me and I saw stars behind my eyelids. My arms and legs were like jelly and I felt myself standing only because Mike was holding me up. The cum rose from my balls and spurted out into Reed’s mouth as my body shook with the power of my orgasm.

  I clenched my ass tight to hold onto the sensation and Mike groaned behind me, slamming one last time into me and leaning his head back and howling. I felt the hot rocket of his cum coating my ass chute, and I flexed my muscles on him in the way I knew he liked. He stayed in me as his dick softened.

  Reed backed off and sat back against the bed as Mike and I disengaged. Reed’s dick was still hard. “That was frigging awesome,” he said.

  “And you didn’t even cum,” I said. “Stand up.”

  He did, grabbing onto the bed for a hand up. I went down to the carpet and wrapped my lips around the head of his dick, which was already loose with precum. Mike stuck his right index finger in Reed’s mouth and said, “Suck my finger, Reedie, so I can use it to fuck you.”

  Reed’s eyes opened even wider, and he took Mike’s finger into his mouth. A moment later Mike pulled it out and reached around behind Reed. I could tell when the finger penetrated him because his dick jumped in my mouth. He didn’t last more than a minute longer, and then he was shooting off such a load in my mouth that the cum was dripping out one side no matter how hard I tried to contain it.

  I stood up shakily, and saw that Mike was kissing Reed. I wanted some of that action so I pushed my face in there, a confusion of tongues and lips and chins. Then Mike wrapped one arm around me and one around Reed, and he fell back to the bed, taking us with him.

  It took us a minute to get ourselves organized—Mike flat on his back in the center, me on my side facing him, Reed facing him from the other side. Mike extended his arms so that one was behind Reed’s shoulders and one behind mine, and the three of us dozed off, surrounded by the tang of sweat and sex and the afterglow of an amazing exertion.

  Mike woke first. I felt him stirring beside me as he extricated his arm from beneath Reed, who was snoring gently. Mike pushed at me, and I got up off the bed. “Get your stuff and let’s go,”
he said.

  “What about…”

  “He’s sleeping with the angels. And when he wakes up he’ll have some amazing memories,” Mike whispered.

  We dressed quickly and as quietly as we could, while Reed continued to sleep, and then we slipped out the door of his hotel room, both of us carrying our shoes in our hands. The tails of Mike’s polo shirt were outside his pants, and my shirt was buttoned funny. Mike looked at me and started to laugh, and I joined him.

  All the tension I’d been feeling for past few weeks was gone. I remembered that Mike wasn’t only my lover and life partner, he was my best friend. And instead of driving us further apart, bringing another guy into the bedroom with us had brought us back together.

  “You okay?” he asked, as we started down the beachfront path back toward the condo.

  “Better than okay. How about you?”

  “I’m great. You’re not freaked out?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think the solution to our problems is going to be bringing a parade of different guys through our bedroom—but I have to admit that scene was very hot.”

  I realized something else. No one was ever going to know me as well as Mike did, and vice versa. Sex was only one part of our relationship. Our connection went way beyond that, down to almost a cellular level. I realized that I wasn’t so scared of sharing him anymore.

  “As long as we’re barefoot, what if we walk back along the beach?” I asked. “We can pretend we’re just a pair of beach bums and all we’ve got to do for the next couple of days is eat, sleep, and make love.”

  “Pretend, hell,” Mike said. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

  HOT FUN IN THE SUMMERTIME

  Shane Allison

  I grab my tray from the What-A-Burger clerk and start to turn around when I feel a tap on my right shoulder. I hate when people do that. I turn around and there he is.

  “Hey, Cray, what’s going on?”

  This brotha stands before me. He is slightly taller than me, with hair cut close to his scalp, wearing a polo shirt, jeans, and brown deck shoes.

  “Hey, how you doin’.” Of course I have no damn clue who he is, but I say hey anyway just to be nice.

  “You don’t remember me, do you? It’s me, Delroy, from Rickards High.” It’s still not enough to jog my memory, but I play the shit off like I know who he is. I don’t want to be rude.

  “Oh, hey, man!”

  I walk to my booth with my food. As I sit there, I can’t help but stare, admiring Delroy from the back corner of the restaurant. I keep trying to place his face. I would have remembered someone as fine as him. I keep looking as I unfurl my chicken sandwich out of the flimsy orange wax paper. I’m impressed by his bubble booty in his jeans as I squeeze spicy ketchup on my shoestring French fries. Maybe he thinks I’m someone else? I don’t know, but damn, he’s cute. Delroy slaps me out of my gaze when he turns and looks back. Our eyes meet for a second before I stare down at my fries drowning in ketchup. As I bite into my sandwich, Delroy starts toward me. Damn. What does he want now?

  Delroy towers over me like a giant, like he’s a man on a mission.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” Delroy asks.

  With my mouth stuffed with food, I hope he will let me finish chewing before I can answer his question. I swallow hard.

  “I’m sorry, man, not a clue. I thought you were this guy from Movies 8 I used to work with back in the nineties.”

  “Naw, it’s cool. You mind if I join you?” My heart skips a beat. I’m a little annoyed, but I figure since we’re old classmates…

  “Yeah, sure,” I say. Delroy starts to take his food out of his bag.

  “I don’t see too many people around here anymore from Rickards.”

  “Well, it’s Tallahassee. I understand why no one would want to stick around. I think if I saw someone from high school, I would probably walk the other way.” Much like what I want to do with Delroy.

  “Why you say that?” Delroy asks as he stuffs a couple of fries into his mouth.

  “I left all of that behind me as soon as I walked off the stage with my diploma. The best thing about leaving high school is that you get a chance to totally reinvent yourself—and I was in dire need of a makeover.”

  Delroy chuckles when I say that. “Those were probably the worst years of my young loser life. So what are you doing now?”

  I think of something that will sound impressive. “Studying broadcast journalism. So what about you? What have you been up to?”

  “I’m running my own lumber mill business down in St. Marks. I got about fifty guys working for me down there.”

  Delroy has big, deep, puppy-dog-brown eyes. Judging from the nicks and healed cuts on his hands, he is no stranger to hard work. That or he stuck his hand in a meat grinder.

  “That’s impressive, wow.”

  “I do all right. It’s a living. Hey, do you remember Mr. Henderson?” he asks, randomly changing the subject. “He taught tenth-grade science.”

  “You mean Papa Smurf?” I say.

  Delroy starts to grin. “Yeah, everybody called him that’cause of his beard. Remember that field trip to Apalachicola he took all of us on? You wouldn’t get in the water and just sat there on the beach with your clothes on.”

  It isn’t until he mentions that field trip that it all starts to come back to me.

  “Shit, now I remember you, man.”

  “You do?” Delroy says.

  “You were wearing like these orange trunks that day.”

  “I used to always try and pick you up and throw you over my shoulder, you remember that?”

  “Yeah you were pretty strong for your age back then.”

  I recall the way the beach water trickled off his chest, over the hills of abs and pecs. Fuck, he was beautiful.

  “Everybody was laughing because I was yelling, asking you to put me down.”

  “Yep. That shit was funny.”

  It was funny for you and everybody else, yeah, I think, mustering up a halfhearted grin. It just reminds me how much I hated Rickards. “I don’t remember seeing you after tenth grade. Whatever happened to you?”

  “My mama moved us out of that zone. I ended up going to Wakulla High. I always thought you were a cool guy,” Delroy says before taking a sip from his cup. “I remember that poem you wrote in Mrs. Forbes’s class.”

  “Oh shit, you remember that? That was so stupid. She made me read it in front of the whole class.”

  “It’s in my yearbook in some old boxes back at my beach house.”

  “No fuckin’ way! You kept that shit?”

  “I don’t know. I liked it. I guess seeing you made me think about the poem.”

  “Well, I’m glad somebody liked it.”

  Delroy and I finish eating our fast-food meal. “You should come out to the beach house sometime. Hang out, have a beer.”

  The excitement that I feel when he invites me out to his beach house is like hot sparks going off in me, so of course I accept.

  “It’s been years since I’ve been out to St. Marks.”

  “Good. It’ll be cool to have some company. I’ll put on a couple of steaks, a few baked potatoes. What kind of beer you like?”

  “Any kind is fine as long as it’s not Guinness.”

  “How ’bout Blue Moon?”

  “I didn’t know you could read minds. I love Blue Moon.”

  “Oh, I’m a master of many trades,” Delroy grins. “How bout Friday night? I saw on the news this morning that it’s supposed to be a full moon—and a full moon looks great from the beach, man.”

  I don’t want to think it, but it sounds like a date. Delroy and I walk outside to his red muscle Hemi truck parked next to my Buick that’s a piece of shit, but gets me from A to B.

  “I wrote my cell down just in case you get lost.”

  “I shouldn’t have a problem finding you.”

  I don’t admit to Delroy that I’m terrible with directions. His thumb gra
zes mine as he hands me his number. “So Friday around eight-ish?”

  “I’ll be there.” Our hands come together in a handshake. “It was good seeing you again, man.”

  “Same here. Get home safe,” I tell him.

  Those four days come and go. I think about Delroy 24/7, about how good it was seeing him after all these years. I feel bad about lying to him, telling him I’m still in school. It bugs me enough that I decide I’m going to come clean, tell him at dinner what’s really up. Friday comes. I’m a mess of nerves. I can barely function at work. On my way home, I stop by the liquor store to get a bottle of wine. I just don’t feel right showing up and not bringing anything.

  Judging from the directions he gave, I’m on the right road. I start to see the names of the signs he wrote down. My car radio clock reads 8:16 p.m. I turn left onto a narrow gravel road. The light coming from the full moon lights my way. Delroy was right. It’s a beautiful beach. I drive until I see a white two-story beach house. It’s just like he described. I know I’m in the right place when I spot his truck in the driveway. I ease up next to the stallion of red and steel. I grab the bottle of wine off the seat and start for the front door. I can see smoke coming from the roof of the beach house. The faint smell of charred meat mixes with the cool beach air. I’m so excited, maybe too excited. I ring the doorbell.

  “Cray, up here,” I hear Delroy holler. I walk around to the side of the house where Delroy is looking down from his deck at me. The background of the moon looks amazing behind him. “Hey, come on up.”

  I push open the picket gate into Delroy’s beach backyard. The breeze coolly kisses my cheek.

  “This place is gorgeous.”

  “Ain’t it, though? I love it out here.”

  “And this house. This is… wow, I mean—”

  “Thank you.” Delroy’s smile puts the gleam from the moon to shame.

  “Would you like a tour of the place after dinner?”