Beach Bums Page 3

A few hours later, laying naked in his bed, we finally did the bio bit. “Why me?” he asked, softly. “I know I’m this magnificent specimen of a human being, but…”

  “Glen something—and guys like him. Back in the sixties, I think. I saw their pictures on the web. Ed Fury. Those guys. He did movies. Natural. No drugs, I don’t think. Just hard workouts. Really good-looking. I bet I could be one of them if I worked hard enough.” I shook my head. “Those guys in 300. They don’t look like, real, to me. I know there are a lot of good-looking guys in the movies these days who take off their shirts. Their clothes even. That Ryan guy who does Captain America. All those dudes on Spartacus. When I saw you on cable talking about how that’s what you were going for, that natural look—”

  “Bishop. His name is Glen Bishop. He’s still around. Old dude. Got out of bodybuilding, but he’s still around. He was one of my granddad’s idols.”

  “I just decided to come out west and see if I could meet you, since you’re my idol.”

  DJ’s thumb played with my mouth. “And so for a couple of weeks you just watched your idol idle away. How long would you have waited?”

  “As long as it took.”

  “What were you waiting for?”

  “You. To notice me. To…” I bit my lip. It was hard to put into words. “To give me a shot at getting to know you. My folks think I’m crazy, but I’ve been pretty independent-minded from the get go. My dad admires that. My mom is terrified I’ll never settle down. But, hell, I’m just,” I kissed his nose, “young enough to be your kid brother. And I’ve always been old for my age. I’ve got plenty of time to find what I’m looking for. My folks thought I had lost it when I said I was coming west, but my dad said if whatever it was didn’t work out they’d always be there.”

  “Do they know you were looking for me?”

  “Yeah. They’ve seen you on TV.”

  “You think they’d like me?”

  “My mom would eat you with a spoon. Not the same spoon I’m gonna eat you with, but, yeah, they’d like you. My dad would be very impressed. And not just with the way you look. You’re a nice guy. I’ve watched the way you worked out with the other weight dudes, how they treated you, how you treated them. Right out in the open. With all of us dorks watching. You’re a nice man. A good guy. As well as the most beautiful human being on the face of the earth.”

  DJ grinned. “Nice to be appreciated. Y’know, nobody’s ever called me that before.”

  I snuggled closer. “They haven’t been watching for what I’ve been watching for.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You wanna stay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What? No begging? No pleading?” His grin got bigger. “No promising to suck me off until your teeth drop out?”

  “Well, yeah, that, too. But basically just a manly statement of fact.”

  DJ’s smile softened. “It might not work. Sometimes good things just don’t work out.”

  “And sometimes they do. Besides,” I grinned, “we’ll have pictures.”

  FEBRUARY FANTASY

  Miss Peach

  It was earlier than I was used to getting up, but I had been dealing with some crap at work and needed to clear my head before I went into the office a few hours later. So at dawn, I found myself wandering down to the beach.

  It was not the most beautiful beach in the world. It hugged the coast of Massachusetts and after several hurricanes over the past few years, it had become mostly a rocky expanse of land with a few large rocks on which to perch and watch the waves. I had been living in this little town for only a few months, house-sitting for friends who used the place as a summer house.

  It was late February, so it was downright cold. I’d hustled into my parka and made my way down the road through this quiet summer town, empty and silent, with only the sound of my sneakers and the surf to add a soundtrack. I walked quickly to get my blood flowing. I jammed my hands into my jacket pockets and pulled up my hood. In minutes, I had reached the beach and found a nice big rock to sit on. I curled my feet up underneath me and snuggled into my parka.

  I stared at the waves crashing and ebbing, thoroughly engrossed in the movement of nature. I began to forget about all my problems at work. I relaxed into the wind, enjoying its sting on my cheeks. The smell of the sea air lulled me into a sweet zone.

  My legs were starting to fall asleep, so I stood up to wake them up. That’s when I saw him, striding toward the surf in a blue wet suit. I watched as he stretched his muscles, bending to touch his toes. He had a nicely chiseled ass.

  He pulled the hood of the suit over his ears and arched back once, pushing out his torso to limber up. He watched the waves. As a big one came in, he ran into the water, fluidly disappearing into the wave. I watched him swim, head bobbing above the water every few seconds. It was like watching a dancer. He seemed to be one with the ocean. No hesitation, despite the cold.

  I watched him swim toward a large rock rising out of the water about a quarter-mile from shore. He climbed the rock stealthily, walked toward the far side of it, raised his hands above his head and dove into the water, out of sight of the beach.

  I looked for him in the surf until I saw his head surface a few feet away from the rock. He swam back to the place where he had entered the water and body-surfed a wave to the shore. In one motion, he stood up and strode out of the surf. I sat down quickly so I wouldn’t be so conspicuous, but he noticed me anyway and waved.

  I gave him a shy wave back. I watched him as he stood very close to his pile of clothes at the edge of the dunes. Deftly, he pulled off his hood and I saw the shaggy mass of silver hair as he shook it out. Then he peeled off his suit to his waist and yanked on his shirt and sweater. He slid the suit off the rest of the way and briefly before he hustled into his pants, I caught a glimpse of his naked, pert ass.

  I was wishing he’d turn around so I could get the full effect. But he didn’t. He got dressed as fast as possible and pulled on a parka, gathering his wet suit and heading into the dunes after giving me a quick nod of acknowledgement. I nodded back.

  Wow, I thought. Just under thirty myself, I wasn’t usually attracted to the silver-haired set—but this man was gorgeous. What a body! I was intrigued. Did he come here every morning? I thought he might, since this especially cold morning didn’t seem to faze him.

  I looked at my watch. My hands were numb, even in my pockets. I was suddenly aware again of the frigidity of the air. It was time for me to head back to the house and have a quick cup of coffee before getting to work.

  The yummy sight of the morning buoyed me through the day. When I got home, I made a frozen dinner and poured a glass of wine. After eating, I sank into the plush armchair in the living room. I left the blinds open and turned down the lights, enjoying the sight of the moonlight on the water and the crisp starriness of the winter sky. I drank some more wine and relaxed.

  My mind turned back to the vision I had been treated to at dawn. The sky that morning was all pink and orange. The man’s blue wet suit had contrasted nicely with the dawn and the gray surf. In my mind, I painted it. If I’d had my paints with me here, I would have busted them out right then. I would have loved to capture that image on canvas.

  I felt a little like Walt Whitman watching the young men on the beach. I couldn’t get a good sense of how old this man was—he had gray hair, but so did many people I knew who were in their thirties. His body belied any notion of age. Such a fine ass. Such a beautiful torso.

  I made up my mind that I would go to the beach the next morning at dawn, just in case he was there again. I’d try to keep myself more concealed. I didn’t want to appear as though I was purposely ogling him. (But, oh, I sure was.)

  After a third glass of wine and a peek at the news, I sank into the king-sized bed—a luxury for me—and started fantasizing. I imagined having my own wet suit and meeting him nonchalantly and seemingly accidentally at the edge of the water. We smiled a hello and in u
nison dove into the waves. As he swam, I followed closely behind him, watching his head and arms moving in and out of the water.

  He climbed the rock once again. I instead swam around to the backside of it in order to make my way back to the place where we’d entered the water. There, I looked up and saw him form a diving pose and plunge into the surf. I swam ahead.

  Quickly, he overtook me. I was behind him again. I imagined us riding a wave to shore and getting up at the same time. I’d say a shy hello. With a sly smile, he’d return the greeting. “I saw you watching me,” he’d say. He’d move closer. “I know you liked what you saw.” Then he’d put his arm around my shoulder, grabbing my head and pulling me into a ferocious kiss.

  I lay in the bed, thinking about us taking that kiss farther, peeling our wet suits off, tugging them over our already-hard cocks. It was cold. We pulled our clothes and parkas on before we tumbled to the rocky ground. I imagined us moving our hands along each other’s bodies and to each other’s members, stroking slowly, kissing all the while. I would run my fingers through his loose silver hair as we snuggled closer under our parkas.

  “My car’s right there,” he pointed to a Volvo parked a few feet away. “It’s warmer in there…”

  We’d make our way—fast—to the back seat of his car and continue our encounter.

  In the bed, I was fondling my balls, stroking my hardness. Before I could get too far into the fantasy, I came with gusto and, wiping off, fell asleep, thinking, “I have got to get myself a wet suit.”

  The alarm received an angry slap. I was about to reset it for my usual wakeup time, but then remembered why I was rising so early. I debated taking a shower but realized that there was probably a narrow window in which to catch the swimming guy, so I nixed the idea. I slugged down a cup of coffee and grabbed the parka. I practically ran to the beach to be sure to catch the sunrise and to get a good seat for the show.

  Sure enough, not long after I had perched on my rock, out of the dunes strode my wet suit fantasy. He stretched, arching his body in ways that made me tingle. Then, as he had the day before, he walked to the water’s edge and surveyed the waves. When a promising one came closer, he ran toward it and dove in. His head disappeared for a moment. I watched for it. Pop! Up it came a few feet away from the shore and he began his swim, moving rhythmically toward the huge rock off of which he would dive. Head and arms up. Head and arms under. Head and arms up…

  Finally, he arrived at the rock and climbed onto it. He shook his arms and stretched a bit more. (Yummy!) Then, he walked gingerly to the backside of the rock making sure not to slip. Again, he watched the surf and waited. He dove. I sat, mesmerized, waiting for him to appear again. It seemed to take minutes and I started to panic—until: pop! Up came his head and arms, pushing him through the water back to his starting point.

  The sun was up by then, but the remains of its rising were still evident in the sky, casting a soft orange hue onto the horizon while the sun’s rays made the frigid water sparkle. Wet Suit Man trudged up to the dunes, reached into a bag he’d left there, and peeled his blue suit off to his hips. Speedily, he shoved a shirt and sweater on over his head. A mere glimpse, but I did get to see a beautiful view of his well-defined chest. If that wasn’t enough to make me smile, he pulled his wet suit off the rest of the way, revealing his bare ass just long enough for him to yank on some pants—no underwear—and his parka. Once he’d stowed his wet suit in his bag, he disappeared into the dunes toward the parking lot.

  It was freezing out there. I checked my watch. Shit. Just enough time to get home and get my work clothes on. I would have to dash without breakfast. Not the best way to greet a morning, but I had my fantasies to keep me company.

  The day dragged. In moments when I could actually catch a breather, I thought of my guy from the beach. I kept picturing him shaking out his silvery hair after removing his hood, imagining being able to help him out of that suit and into the back seat of a nice warm car. I steered clear of thinking about what I would do to him. The fear of getting a boner at work was nearly as huge as that of getting one when it was my turn in school to get up and read a book report.

  Over the takeout I picked up on my way home, I pondered my situation. Here I was, alone in a summer resort town, getting up at the crack of dawn to ogle some stranger who also happened to be around and happened to like a quick swim in frigid water. What the hell was going on with me? I had always been logical and here I was, daydreaming about a mysterious wet suit–bedecked man who swam in the first light of day. I knew nothing about him. What if, up close, he was kind of homely? What if he was some sort of skeevy creep? But oh, that ass. That ass got me through the day. Was I going to get up again tomorrow? Would I ever actually talk to the man? Or should I buy a wet suit and just happen to want to jump in the freezing February ocean first thing in the morning?

  I ceased to care for a while, as I thought about him peeling off that suit. Shaking his hair free; giving me a glimpse of some serious pectorals; showing off that nearly perfect ass. I found myself with my hand once again working its magic with that vision dancing in my mind. I focused on that vision: that hair, that chest, that ass… stroking first slowly and luxuriously, then moving with purpose. I came like I hadn’t let loose in days. That clinched it. I’d be getting up early again.

  In my parka, I positioned myself so that I was more in view than I had been. I was feeling kind of bold. I waited. I watched the sun inch its way to the sky. Where was he? Was I hoping for too much? In an instant, I saw him emerge from the dunes and plunk his bag on the sand. He tucked his hair into the hood and walked almost reverently to the water’s edge. He stretched. His movements were magical. I watched with relish. He stood. He watched the waves. Like a cheetah, he pounced onto the first wave he synced with.

  Out he went, a few yards from shore, and swam toward the rock where he’d climb up and jump off. I’d seen this part before. And while I loved watching the dance of his body and the water, I was waiting for the good part. It came. He headed for the dunes and began the process of taking off his suit. When his sweater was on, the top of the suit was resting on his hips, and he had donned his shirt and sweater, he looked straight at me and waved. I turned crimson and waved a mortified hello. He then turned away from me and removed the suit, moving slowly to unveil his sweet cheeks. He grabbed them and glanced over his shoulder at me. Quickly he dressed.

  I couldn’t move. I shook my head to make sure what I was seeing was real. He stowed his wet suit in the bag and started trudging over the stones and sand toward me. I gulped. What the hell would I say? What was going on here? I was inches from sheer panic.

  In seconds, he reached me, perched speechless on a rock. “Hi,” he began. “I haven’t seen you before and now I see you three days in a row. I thought I was the only one crazy enough to be out here in the middle of winter.”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m house-sitting for some friends for the winter. I started coming here before work so I can be calm when I start my day. Can I ask you something?”

  He nodded.

  “Why do you do that swim in such cold water? What’s with that?” I asked.

  “What’s with you watching me? You know what I think? I think you like what you see.” He smirked. “And by the way, I like the beach at dawn. I do this all year round. Swim to the rock, dive off, swim back… just a taste of ocean before I start my day. So? Why do you watch me?”

  It took me a moment to find my voice. I was startled by his bluntness. I guess I was more conspicuous than I had thought. My face reddened again. “It’s just a nice view, you know, the waves, the sunrise, you…” I couldn’t believe I had just said that. I had blurted it out. But it wasn’t like he was mincing words.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. I like the attention. I like the company. There aren’t many of us who stay here past Labor Day. Another face is good to see. A cute one like yours is even better.”

  Did he just say that?!

  “Well, thanks,” I said. “You
make an enduring picture in my mind when I’m at work. I’ll admit it. I get up earlier than I need to so I can watch you swim.”

  He laughed and ran his hand through his silver hair. He looked somewhere between thirty-five and fifty. At that point, I didn’t care. This man was sexy and had a movie-star smile. “I like that. Look,” he said, pulling his parka hood up, “my car is over there. Do you want to go sit in it?”

  “We could,” I said, “or you could drive us down to my place.”

  We got in his car and drove the three seconds it took to get to the house where I was staying. I invited him in. “Coffee?”

  “Sounds good. I usually just warm up by cranking the heat in the car.”

  I made coffee and we stood, sipping. “So,” I began, “who are you? Why did I feel compelled to invite you into my home?”

  “I’m Frank. I live down near the country club. And you felt compelled because you want me to fuck you.”

  I was dumbfounded. “Well, you’re right, and you don’t mince words, do you?”

  He shook his head, shedding his sweater and shirt in one sweep and stepped closer to me. Entranced, I put my hand on his chest. I caressed his pecs and nipples. He came closer. I could feel his breath on my neck. His hands were on my hips, pulling me to him. He swayed our hips in circles as he kissed my neck and behind my ear. He nipped my throat. I felt him cup my ass as his lips met mine. He tugged at the buttons of my jeans. My cock strained against the zipper. In one motion, he had my hard cock in his fingers. Very lightly, he ran his finger up and down my shaft. My breathing came in small gasps. I stepped out of my pants and pushed him, kissing, toward the bed in the next room. Before long, I had him on his back on the king-sized bed. I slid his pants from him, exposing the dick I’d been fantasizing about nonstop for the past few days. It was awe-inspiring. It wasn’t amazingly long but it had plenty of girth and a curve toward his stomach. Licking its head, I thought longingly of how it would feel in my ass. The curve made deep-throating tricky, but I opened my jaws and took his entire cock, making sure to hit the spot where I nearly gag and make that lovely throat-full-of-cock sound. He moaned and fucked my throat. My hands were busy. One hand caressed his balls; the other caressed mine.