Beach Bums Page 4

  His cock was rigid. He whispered, “Let me fuck you… please.”

  Immediately, I slid my mouth off him and turned over, waiting. I heard him spit on himself and make it slick. At first, he teased me, pressing the head of his cock against my asshole, rubbing it and then taking it away. I groaned in desire and anticipation. I pressed against his cock. He pushed his way in.

  My back arched as I felt him move deeper with a deliberately, deliciously slow groove. I grasped the pillow with both hands and screamed into it. He yanked my hair, pulled my head up, and told me, “Go ahead. Scream. It’s not like there’s anyone here. I want to hear you.” I had never felt anything like him slamming into my ass: that was worth something way past screaming. He moved in a perfect wave, in and out, in and out. He reached around and grabbed my rod, his hand part of the wave. “You’re going to make me come,” I whispered.

  “That’s right,” he whispered into my ear as he fucked me and stroked my cock, all in a sweet rhythm. “And I’m going to come with you.”

  That was it. It was too much to control. I spurted like a geyser. As I did so, I heard his cry and felt his hot jizz splashing onto my ass. I fell onto my stomach. He lay on top of me and we breathed.

  After a bit, we saw the clock and had a mutual oh-shit moment: it was later than we had thought. I should have left the house twenty minutes earlier. The details of each other would have to wait. We had to get professional and ready to work.

  I told him, as we got into our cars, “Well, now that’s something to smile about today.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll see you at the beach tomorrow. You know, you really ought to get a wet suit.” He winked and backed out of the driveway and was gone.

  “Yeah,” I thought, “buy a wet suit,” and left for work. My boss was going to be livid at my lateness, but I had better things to think about.

  SEX ON THE BEACH

  Logan Zachary

  Relax, take a deep breath, and dive in.” Mark, my instructor, took his bronzed hand, touched my bare back, and guided me deeper into the blue surf. He looked at me through his goggles, his snorkel dangling alongside his face in the blue waters of Baie Longue.

  I bit down on the rubber mouthpiece and wondered whose mouth this had been in before mine. Because I worked in a hospital, infection control was a huge issue for me, even on my first day of vacation. Had he disinfected this? Was this guy even certified? With all of these thoughts racing through my head, it was no wonder I couldn’t get my breathing under control enough to be able to stick my face in the water. I seemed to be hyperventilating each time I tried to submerge my head. That meant I was unable to see the white sandy beach protected by the coral reef on St. Maarten.

  Mark’s strong arms held me secure. “If you want to be a true beach bum, you need to learn to relax, take a deep breath, and dive into life and relax even more. Push away all the tension, worries, and stress. This is the best place on the French side of the island to snorkel.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, no exceptions. Relax, float, breathe, and dive in deep, with both feet.”

  I tripped on my flippers and plunged under the surface. Water rushed down the snorkel tube as salty brine stung my taste buds and rushed up my nostrils.

  My handsome instructor dove under the surf to save me. His strong hands wrapped around my waist and helped me to my feet. One hand groped me and despite the fear of drowning, my body reacted with a fight-or-flight response. I flew.

  I spit out the snorkel and coughed. I ripped off the goggles and threw them into the water. Mark dove down to grab the gear before it sunk to the sandy bottom, and I stormed back toward the hammocks and blue-and-white umbrellas that lined the beach.

  I flopped down on my beach towel and watched Mark emerge from the ocean. His green trunks clung to his hips and outlined his equipment. I could feel my periscope start to rise as he tossed his head and his blond curls sprayed water over the sand like a dog. His tight ringlets sprang up as the weight of the water left. His long legs were hairy; each muscle rippled under his deeply tanned skin as he moved.

  “It takes some time to master any new skill,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to say something and stopped. My instructor gave off a calming effect—and his body sent my senses into overdrive. It had been a long time since I’d felt desire coming from a man. I guess working out four times a week had finally paid off. My trainer made the most out of our sessions, and my body proved it.

  Mark stood over me, smiling and staring into my eyes. Water ran down his body and soaked into the sand. “Mark,” he said, filling in his name for me.

  “Mark, I’m on vacation. I don’t want to work so hard…”

  My cell phone rang in my beach bag.

  I rifled through it and dug it out. The hospital’s phone number flashed in the window. “Jeff Parker. Yes. Yes. Can you fax it to me here at the hotel? I’ll sign it.” I rolled my eyes. “Not a problem. Okay. I’ll check for it in ten minutes. Bye.” Closing my phone as I stood up, I picked up my towel and wrapped it around my shoulders.

  “You still have a half an hour left on your lesson.” Mark scanned my body as he waited for my answer.

  “Bank it. I know I’ll use it later in the week, I just can’t use it right now.” I grabbed my bag and slipped my sandy feet into my sandals. As I rounded the cabana on the beach, I saw him still standing there, looking after me. Disappointment was easy to read on his face. Guilt flooded over me for a moment, and then left as soon as the stress of work and my job returned.

  I signed the form and handed it back to the girl at the business center.

  She smiled and said, “I’ll send it as soon as I can,” as she set it down on the counter by the fax machine.

  I stood staring at the sheet, uncertain if I should go until I saw it sent.

  Mark entered the center with my watch in his hand. “This must have slipped out of your bag.”

  I grabbed my bag and squeezed it. No watch. “Thanks! I’d hate to have lost that.” I took it and slipped it on my arm. “Can I buy you a drink to say thank you?”

  Mark smiled. “It’s just part of the job. I’d do that for anyone.”

  He pointed at the watch.

  “You’ve been so patient with me. Besides, I could use one, and I’d love for you to join me. We still have that thirty minutes I banked.”

  Mark nodded. “Sure, I could use something about now. Follow me.” He led me to a quiet corner of the resort and waved at the bartender. The man nodded and busied himself in making drinks as Mark picked out a table.

  His hairy bare leg rubbed against mine as we sat down. No sooner had we settled in than the bartender set two drinks down in front of us and headed back to his post. The drink was peachy pink and tasted cool, delicious, and fruity.

  Before I could ask what it was, Mark said, “I hope you’re having fun at the resort. I know you’re a busy man, but you have to remember you’re on vacation and take advantage of all we have to offer here.” He pointed out the window, but stared at me. “We don’t get that many good-looking professional men here. Most are out of shape and don’t want to do anything except eat and sleep in this paradise.”

  Gentle, rolling waves washed onto the beach and couples ran in and out of the surf. One man body-surfed in the warm waves. Several other people lay in the sun working on their tans or reading. One lone jogger dodged those he met as he ran along the water’s edge.

  “There’s certainly a lot to look at here.” I stared at him. His bright blue eyes shone, his skin glowed with the sun, and his body rippled with muscles. The stirring in my swim trunks returned and as his leg brushed up against me again, I worried my erection would rip through the fabric.

  “You’re beautiful, too.” Mark said. He took a sip of his drink and sat back in his chair, raising his arms over his head. His arm muscles bulged; the hair in his armpit was thick and dark, unlike the blond on his head. His nipples were the size of a silver dollar and perfectly shaped. The fur
on his chest fanned out and thickened as it went lower and lower.

  I jerked back in my seat. What were we talking about? I had gotten lost in his body.

  Mark smiled. “See, that’s what I mean. Relax, daydream, float. Go with it.” He reached across the table and rested his hand on my arm.

  My skin burned where he touched me. I pulled back, feeling my face redden. “Sunburn,” I said lamely. Why did he have this effect on me? He seemed to like me and want to spend time with me. But why?

  “The intensity of the sun in the islands is powerful, but there are a lot of different kinds of powers in the islands.” His leg rested against mine.

  This time I let it stay, trying to ignore the warmth that flowed from his body up my leg and into my groin. My penis grew thicker, longer, harder. Why was he having such an effect on me? He wasn’t my type. What was my type? Did I even have a type? Work had consumed my life at home.

  He reached across the table and touched my arm. “I hope we’ll be able to have some more fun and get to know each other better. What do you enjoy doing for fun at home?”

  I felt my face flush and wasn’t able to hold his eye contact. Why was he making me feel as nervous as a schoolgirl? I looked down at the glass in my hand and traced water droplets on the outside of the drink.

  “There are a few special places I’d love to show you on the island.”

  And then my cell phone rang.

  Mark looked at me and waited.

  My skin started to crawl when I saw who was calling. “I have to get this.” I pulled my arm back from his grasp and found my phone. I walked out onto the beach and listened to problem after problem pour across the airwaves. I looked over my shoulder, but Mark was gone. I almost dropped the phone, but I kicked the sand and listened as the concerns droned on and on.

  The next morning, I lay face down on the warm massage table and breathed deeply. Eucalyptus and the ocean brine wafted through the open window as I waited for my massage therapist to arrive. A thick cotton towel covered my bare butt; my hands and feet hung over the edge of the table.

  There was a gentle knock on the door, and it opened quietly. A low husky male voice said, “Hi, it’s Mark. I’ll be giving you your massage today. Our massage therapist is out sick, and I volunteered when I saw your name. I hope that’s okay, Jeff. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me giving you a massage.”

  “I didn’t know you did massage too.” I felt my arousal start to grow as he clipped on a belt with a bottle of oil. His white shirt draped over his long board shorts. A deep blue Hawaiian print covered the side panels. He stepped up to the head of the table and poured oil into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, warming the liquid with the friction. His powerful hands touched my shoulders and worked down to the small of my back. Firm, wide strokes rubbed my muscles.

  “Oh, I’m not a professional, I just help out when I can, but if you don’t want…” he started.

  I inhaled and smelled coconut—and male. “It’s fine,” I lied. My arousal grew and pressed into the table as he worked over my back. This so wasn’t going to work. His fingers brushed over the crest of my ass, and moved the thick towel lower and lower. His touch set my skin on fire. Desire oozed out of each pore of my body. I felt a sheen of sweat break out over my body.

  “I can see you work out a lot. You take great care of your body. When do you find the time?” Mark rubbed my shoulders and a drop of sweat dripped from his brow and landed on my back. “I’m sorry. It’s rather warm in here.”

  “Make yourself comfortable,” I said, feeling the tension start to flow out of my body. “I have a trainer who kills me four times a week for thirty minutes of intense workouts.”

  Mark stopped my massage, unbuttoned his shirt, and tossed it onto a chair.

  I turned my head to see what he was doing and saw his hairy chest and thick treasure trail. His shorts had slipped down his narrow hips, revealing two tan crescent moons. He turned and walked to me and his waistband rode just above his pubic bush. A bulge stretched the front of his shorts. I felt like Sally Field: He likes me, he really likes me!

  He took one of my arms and stroked along my wrist, over the forearm and to my elbow. He took my fingers and interlaced mine with his. He massaged my palms with his thumbs and hit spots that sent me into sensory overload.

  I prayed my raging hard-on would go away before I rolled over.

  Mark completed one arm and moved over to the other one. As he moved my arm, my hand brushed against his groin and his large, firm, meaty cock took my breath away. He started on my feet and worked up my legs.

  I adjusted myself, aiming my hard-on straight up, which allowed my legs to relax and spread wider.

  His hands slipped up my inseam and brushed along the hair on my balls. Each testicle rose and swelled under the gentle caress, the bristly hairs tickling the tender orbs. He rolled up my thigh and over my glutes. A finger glided along the crease and up to my lower back.

  A drop of sweat dropped from his brow and splashed down on my back. The warm wetness surprised me as he went down my other leg and up over my ass. The towel slipped off my body and continued off the table to the floor. My butt cheeks squeezed together, as if they could recapture the lost towel. I wished the table would swallow me whole as the cool air blew across my bare backside. I hoped Mark would pick up the towel and cover me.

  Mark finished my legs and as he rounded the table, his pelvis bumped the corner.

  I felt the table jerk as the edge caught his drawstring and pulled on it as he moved. I turned my head to see if he was okay, as his shorts loosened and slipped down his legs.

  An old, stained jock strap strained against what it held. Holes and rips revealed tan, swollen flesh and thick dark hair, along with two massive balls. One testicle hung half outside the pouch.

  I swallowed hard at the sight and quickly put my head down on the table.

  “Sorry,” he apologized as he bent to pull them up.

  The curve of his beautiful ass framed in the old elastic made my cock jump underneath me. “Not a problem.”

  “You don’t mind if I leave them off?” He paused as he bent over.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” I said, as my comfort level took a nose dive.

  He looked at my naked body on the table, shrugged his shoulders, and pulled up his shorts. He moved to my butt, applied more oil to his hands, and massaged each cheek. His finger kneaded and spread my ass open as he worked. He opened his hand and palmed me, making large broad strokes over my butt and up my back. With each pass his hand moved deeper into the groove. The side of his hand rode the crease, each pass lower, his fingertips brushing my balls. Finally, one hand slid over my tender opening.

  My whole body jerked at the contact and a warm wave washed over me. Precum flowed out of me and was quickly absorbed into the thick cotton sheet on the table.

  Over and over, he rode the wave with the side of his hand.

  There was no way I’d be able to roll onto my back now. My erection strained with painful pleasure. A moan escaped from my body, and I finally gave over to the massage, allowing my body to relax and absorb all the pleasure and sensuous joy of the moment. My arms went limp, as did my toes—but not my dick.

  His hand rested on one cheek and his rich voice said, “Roll over.”

  “I… I… can’t.”

  “It’s not a problem. It happens to all of us. We’re guys, aren’t we? Like we could control it if we tried.”

  “No.”

  “Maybe we should stop this massage and go back to your room? I think you’d feel more comfortable there.”

  Mark picked up my robe and spread it across my back, helping my arms into the sleeves. He slipped his shirt back on, then he grabbed a thick sheet and all of my things and opened the door. I knew what this meant. He wanted more than a massage. I wanted more than a massage.

  It wasn’t a long walk to my room, and my raging hard-on didn’t shrink at all. What was I getting into? My feet sank int
o the hot sand as I tried to avoid eye contact with the people on the beach. I felt like everyone knew what we were doing. I fumbled to find my key card in my pocket.

  My hand shook as I tried to insert it into the slot.

  Mark noticed my nerves and reached for the card. As his hand touched mine, electricity shot through my body.

  Mark must have felt his effect on me. He took me into his arms and held me close. He kissed me and all my nervousness left me.

  I held him tight and felt my body form to his.

  Mark slipped the card in and the green came on as the lock clicked open. He pushed the heavy door in, and a wave of air conditioning greeted us.

  I walked over to the bed and kicked off my sandals.

  “Should we start where we left off at the door or from the massage table?” Mark asked. He spread the sheet over my bed and motioned for me to lie down. “I think we should start with you face down on the bed.”

  I crawled onto the bed and lay face down. “It’s a lot cooler in here.” But my body still burned for his touch. I was always embarrassed to be naked in front of anyone—and having a hard-on didn’t help.

  “Take off your robe.”

  I loosened the belt and he removed it. I was naked, face down on my bed, and nothing had changed. My erection throbbed underneath me as the robe pulled free. How long had it been since I was with a man? I couldn’t remember.

  “Roll over onto your back.”

  “I…can’t. I need a towel.”

  “That’s why we’re here. Come on, let me show you how good a massage can feel. Please.” He placed his hand on my back.

  My erection throbbed underneath me.

  His other hand touched my shoulder and guided me over.

  I followed. My cock stuck straight up and as I lay back, it slapped my belly and sprang back up.