Beach Bums Read online

  “Not a suggestion.” Penny bull-rushed into control, yanking Sean back towards the logs. She dropped him in my lap. I gave her the best “you’re not helping” look I had, but she carried on, digging her car keys out of her pocket. “I can walk from here to my brother’s. You two take my car somewhere and talk, and I’ll pick up it up from Luke in the morning.”

  I shook my head as Sean shimmied off me and onto the log. Dear God, don’t let him have noticed the hard-on. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Pen. I’ve had a long, bad day.”

  “Well, misery loves company, right?” Sean gave me a lopsided grin. “But I’m not comfortable taking your car, Penny.” He stretched, sun-darkened skin tightening across his ribs. “It’s a nice night. We can just stay here and talk.” He gestured to me with the near-empty bottle of Patrón. “Unless you don’t want to.”

  I shrugged, trying to marry two conflicting choices. I didn’t want another relationship, especially with a guy I didn’t know, but couldn’t convince my dick—and he was winning out. “I have tomorrow off, so I guess I can stick around for a bit.”

  “Great.” Penny fished out her cell phone. I knew what she was doing, but didn’t have time to stop her. “Shit. Turns out my brother isn’t home at all—he’s out at a bar and needs me to pick him up.” She winked at me. “I should be back in an hour or two.”

  I sighed and turned back to Sean. “I guess we have some time, then.”

  He chuckled. “She’s not very subtle, is she?”

  “She likes to think she is.”

  He scuffed his sandals in the sand. “Would it really be that bad if we had sex?”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I mean, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” He busied himself, throwing another couple of logs on the fire. The sparks that burst out of the flames clouded him, making him look like a dream.

  A very good, very bad dream.

  He sat next to me in total silence, staring into the fire, across the ocean, at the first speckling of stars—just not at me. Finally, I had to laugh. “It’s really okay.”

  Sean said, “I’ve just always been cool with sex, and sometimes I forget not everyone is.”

  I chugged the last eighth-inch of tequila and scooted closer. He smelled like wet sand and sweat. I kissed his cheek, running my tongue along the upper line of his jaw. What? It seemed like the thing to do at the time, and he tasted really good—like seawater. What the hell? It’s not like I didn’t need to get laid.

  Sean wrapped his arm over my shoulder, whispering, “Change of heart?”

  “I figure.” I undid my belt buckle. “There’s no harm.” Unzipped my fly. “In having a little fun.”

  He laughed. “How much tequila did you have?”

  I was pants-free and working on my shirt at that point. “Enough.”

  Without warning, with my hands still caught up in trying to get out of my shirt—it’s much harder when you’re drunk—Sean leaned in and kissed me, sliding his tongue through my lips, running it on the inside of my cheeks. I tasted something sweet. We stayed like that until my arms got tired, then I pulled away. He grinned. “I’m getting a buzz just kissing you.”

  I finally got off the accursed T-shirt and, panting, looked him over again, just to make sure I really wanted to sleep with him. Right, I’m not kidding anyone—I just wanted to look at him some more. He reached down to his crotch and adjusted the bulge, but it didn’t do much—the jean shorts were too small and I could see it no matter what he did. I slid closer, wrapping my leg around his, and reached down. “Let me.” I wriggled my hand into the warmth between the denim and his coarse bush, making contact with his unit—I could just touch my thumb and middle finger around the shaft. “Damn, Sean. Do you play baseball with it?”

  He laughed. “It’s a blessing of sorts.”

  I ran my fingers along the whole length, feeling his veins, drawing tiny circles with my thumb. I kept going further, leaning my body closer to his. My head on his chest, feeling his sharp breaths, then down against his abs, nose against his happy trail. I slipped a finger between his head and foreskin, rubbing all the way around it while fighting the urge to jack off. He moaned a little and I felt it—he was wet. I slowly pulled back out, moving my head down until I reached the zipper on his shorts. I tried to coordinate my tongue to lift it, but the alcohol prevented that. With one move, I pulled down his zipper and pantsed him. Released, his dick wriggled out of the fly of his briefs, precum glistening in the firelight.

  I moved my head down, but his hands wrapped over my shoulders, pushing me flat against the log. “That’s enough about me.” He climbed on top of me, the head of his cock resting against my thigh, precum chilling every time the wind picked up. He breathed right against my mouth, every word traveling through my ears and straight downstairs. “Let’s see what you’ve been hiding.” His mouth actually worked—he grabbed the waistband of my underwear in his teeth, pulling them off. The bark of the log scratched my ass and I moved down to the sand while he tossed my now-pointless undergarments aside. I watched his ass roll from side to side, the movement of every muscle visible through the tight fabric. Once he got turned around, he pounced, fingers trailing lust across my chest, pinching my nipples while his tongue danced down, skating warm over my body. He stopped at my waist and, with one heave, put my knees on his shoulders. His hands traced the shape of my ass, one finger straying to the hole, just rubbing around it but never going in. I almost thrust up, aching for something, but he beat me to the punch, shoving his face into my ass. I could see his eyes dance above me as his tongue massaged the entrance open, teasing groans and grunts out of my throat.

  When he found his way inside, I just said, “Fuck.” The hot snake of muscle pressed and wiggled, opening me further. From what I’d seen so far, I’d need to be open.

  He moved away, replacing his tongue with a pair of fingers. They dug deeper, toying with the spot. He dragged them out, pressing against my hole with every knuckle that left. I moaned, shaking with want as the emptiness came over me. He leaned close again, whispering, “Ready?”

  I could only nod. He got back in position, lifting my ankles onto his shoulders. The head of his cock rested against my hole for a second, and then he pressed in. My toes and fingers curled, neck tightening. Cold, nervous sweat beaded up on my skin as he made slow, steady progress, the thick shaft filling me. He reached down, rubbing my nipples until they hardened.

  I felt bush against my ass and sighed, the ecstasy of fullness radiating from his cock. He smiled, letting me adjust to the size. As I did, warmth flooded my body, electricity that skittered across every pore. I made eye contact and nodded.

  As Sean wormed out of me, I nestled deeper into the sand, burying my fingers in the beach. Sean moved in faster, balls slapping against my tailbone. He grunted with every hit, biting his bottom lip to hold back the words. Every once in a while a “fuck” or “hell yeah” would slip out as he went faster still.

  When I reached the very edge of my self-control, he pulled out and flipped me on my stomach, digging his fingers into my ass, thumbs resting on the divots on the side. He went back in, each thrust digging me further into the sand. I slipped my hands over my cock and let the force of him fucking me do the work, jacking me off. I still doubted I would last longer than him, but I tried my damnedest to hold back, not wanting it to end. His hand wound into my hair, making it that much harder to keep from coming.

  He pulled out and flipped me again, jacking us off together. It just took a few strokes and I shot all over his hand, bucking up and down, sand digging into my ass crack.

  He leaned over me and came, losing it all over my chest and belly. It lasted at least two minutes, both of us shooting off. I gave him one answer. “Damn.”

  He flopped down next to me, hand lying across my junk. “Ditto.”

  We lay there naked for a good twenty minutes, talking. I found out he worked as a barista at a local cafe, had a bachelor’s in business English, and used t
o be a hooker. “It’s how I paid for college.”

  Penny came back just when we’d decided to get dressed—we weren’t dressed yet, but we’d made the decision. She leaned over me and I screamed. “What the hell?” I shoved my hands between my legs. “Show a little dignity here!”

  “I’m not the one lying naked on the beach.”

  “Bitch.” I looked for my underwear, but remembered that Sean had tossed them away. I looked around, but saw nothing. Whatever. I pulled my jeans on, threw on my shirt, and sat up.

  Sean already had his shorts on—and a huge grin. “So did your brother get home all right?”

  “What?” It took her a bit to remember her lie. “Right, yeah, totally.”

  “Good.” He winked at me. “I guess I might see you around town, right?”

  “Maybe. I mean, I do drink coffee.”

  Back in Penny’s car, the interrogation started. “How was it? It was magic, right? Like, totally not human, right?”

  I adjusted my dick. “It was good.”

  “You hit that and you say it was good?” She glared for a moment, and then her face brightened. “Oh, I see, it was good. Got it.”

  I still don’t know what the fuck she thought I meant.

  I went to Herb’s Cafe the next day and waited to see him. Around noon—by that time, five cups of coffee were flooding through my system—he showed up. I got really nervous—he probably wouldn’t want to talk to me at work. Hell, maybe he didn’t really want to talk to me at all.

  “Luke.” He came straight to me, smiling. I thought I would puke, I was so nervous. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  “I can go.”

  “No, it’s fine.” He sat down at the table. “I called in sick today. Still a little bit sore.” He chuckled at his own joke. “How’s your headache?” I gestured to the five empty coffee cups. “So, better?”

  “Yeah. You want some coffee?”

  “No. I actually don’t drink coffee.” I guess I looked pretty crestfallen, because he stammered out. “But I’ll take some tea.” He grabbed my hand and led me up to the counter. “Jill.”

  “Oh, hey, Sean. Let me guess, green tea and honey?”

  “And it only took you three months to get it right.”

  She noticed me for the first time, apparently—never mind that she’d just served me coffee for the past four hours. “Is this the guy?”

  Sean shrugged. “Not the time or place, Jill.”

  “I was just curious. I mean, you talked about him for two hours last night.”

  I could have been pissed. Maybe I should have been pissed, but I wasn’t—hell, at least it meant I was a good lay. I just slung an arm around his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m the guy.”

  She laughed. “I like him.”

  With his tea in hand, Sean walked back to the table with me. “So, you’re already over your breakup?”

  “God no.” I sipped at the coffee I’d been nursing for the last

  hour. “But last night sure helped.”

  He stared at his tea. “So do you want some more help? Say, tonight?”

  I chuckled. “My place or yours?”

  WELCOME TO PARADISE

  Cecilia Ryan

  There was a time when Gene would have said the most beautiful sound on the beach was the crashing of the waves against the shore. That was before he met Dylan, before he was lying next to him after the mad offer of a midnight surf, which had turned into a midnight swim when they realized the water was far too still for it. The soft laughter of the other man, he decided, was the most beautiful sound in the world at the moment.

  It was probably better if he didn’t say that out loud, though. He didn’t think Dylan would react well to being kissed out of the blue—Gene knew he was all for the concept of free love and had no problem with being touched by other men, but for it to be one man, for there to be more than sex involved in it, that would be too much for him. The closest they were ever going to get was with a girl between them, and as much fun as that had been, Gene hadn’t been looking at the girl. He couldn’t really remember her name, but then she might never have told them.

  Gene lay still and turned his head to the side to look at Dylan while he continued to laugh and catch his breath. Even in the moonlight, he could still bring to his mind the sun-kissed hair and sparkling green eyes of his companion. He wished he’d seen him laugh like this in the daytime. This was honest, happy laughter, not the boisterous racket he made for the sake of fitting in. There was nothing insincere in it, and Gene was glad of that. Glad that Dylan trusted him enough to be honest around him.

  He watched as the other man turned his head towards him, licking the salt from his lips. Smiling at him. God, he was gorgeous. Gene went to speak, and then the heavens opened instead and buckets of water were suddenly falling on them both. Dylan laughed again and sat up, standing to help Gene so they could take shelter from the rain. Gene took his hand and followed blindly, fighting to keep up with the more lithe man ahead of him, his feet sinking into the sand that had already become waterlogged.

  A palm tree provided temporary respite, enough to get a look at the beach and the area around them. Dylan was still laughing brightly, and Gene found himself smiling. Gene chose the beach, the surf, and the lifestyle for the lack of pressure involved; to get away from it all. Dylan chose it out of a genuine love and respect for the elements. Of course he enjoyed the rain as much as the sunshine. It was easy to be happy when Dylan was happy.

  “Car?” Gene heard himself suggesting. He didn’t especially want this to end, to take Dylan back home and call it a night himself, but it was pouring with rain and there seemed to be little choice. Dylan nodded, and took his hand again to race the rest of the way up the beach and fumble their way into the unlocked station wagon. The rain was so thick that neither of them had realized they were getting into the back seat of the Holden until they’d sat down, both of them laughing hysterically at the mistake and panting to catch their breaths.

  Gene found a towel being shoved at him, and dried his hair with it roughly before putting it under himself in an attempt to stop his wet back and shorts from sticking to the seat. It was a wonder that cars like this had leather seats at all. He suspected that they weren’t actually leather, but they were just as sticky. By the time he looked back, Dylan was leaning his head against the window and looking at him quietly. Gene smiled, shy without intending to be, and grasped for something to say. “I suppose we’re not going anywhere for a while?”

  Dylan seemed to come back to life at that. “No, not unless we want to go off the side of a cliff or something.” He smiled wryly. “The company could be much worse.”

  “That it could.” Gene nodded honestly. “I’m glad you came out here. Nice to have a fellow countryman to enjoy the rain with.”

  “No rain like this in England,” Dylan replied. “Well, not over the summer, anyway.”

  “No, I suppose not. More like a constant, miserable drizzle.” Gene’s lips twitched a little, half amused and half homesick.

  Dylan hummed and nodded and then fell silent for a few moments, licking his lips slowly again. After a while, he spoke up hesitantly, “I think I might take these off.” He pulled at his soaked shorts. “Dry off and dress. If that’s all right?”

  “Please, be my guest. I’ll let you go first.” Gene turned and leaned against the glass, staring out at the storm. He could hear the sounds of Dylan peeling his soaking board shorts off, drying himself, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on. A soft “done” prompted him to look back over, to see that he’d only gotten as far as a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt, both equally worn. He didn’t look too closely at Dylan’s lean thighs or what was between them, instead grabbing his own clothes and going through the same process himself, deciding to follow suit in not bothering with jeans, only pulling on his own wear-softened T-shirt before sitting back down.

  When he looked back, he saw Dylan grinning at him. “You have a tan line,” he sing-songe
d. Gene felt himself blush at the statement, more than aware it was true, and realized that Dylan hadn’t bothered to look away.

  “I suppose you don’t?” He balled up the towel he’d been sitting on and stuffed it under the seat in front of him, trying not to think about Dylan’s tan line or lack thereof.

  “I’m insulted. Do you mean you didn’t get a good look at me while we were with Sarah?” Dylan was still grinning, but there was something else in it as well.

  Sarah. So she had given her name. Hopefully, he’d remember it if they ran into her again. “That was over a month ago. We didn’t know each other then.”

  Gene hadn’t studied the other man at the time, not really. Not that there was much of him he hadn’t seen since, but he knew better than to linger. He couldn’t look at him as closely as he wanted to, not if he wanted to be his friend.

  Or could he? Dylan had looked at him without such a concern, after all. Gene reached out before he realized what he was doing and tugged the waistband of Dylan’s underwear down just far enough to check for a tan line. There wasn’t one, of course. Dylan was the sort of man who would go down to a quiet cove and lie naked in the sun to get the appealing dark golden color of his skin even. He took his hand away, looking as though there was nothing wrong with what he’d just done. Dylan didn’t seem to mind, just watched him calmly as he retreated. “I see.”

  Dylan grinned at him, clearly pleased with himself. “You should come with me sometime. Get some color in your cheeks.”

  “Oh, you are hilarious. How did I ever live without your wit, I wonder?” Gene teased, happy to deflect the moment that had become thick and heavy into humor instead, and not think further on the skin of Dylan’s hip, smooth and soft as it had been.

  “Boringly, I imagine.” Dylan sighed at length, closing his eyes. It was a comfortable, soft sound that Gene found left his stomach fluttering. He seemed content, happy to be in his company, even when they were just sitting quietly. They’d never done this before; it had always been go, go, go, or there’d been a huge group sitting in the odd mutual silence that always felt to Gene as though they were communing with the sea, in the strange way the locals had of doing here. He thought perhaps that this was Dylan’s influence, since for himself he wouldn’t mind if the waves stopped coming tomorrow and the beach was swallowed up—except that he knew it would mean Dylan moving on, and Gene would have no excuse to follow him.