Beach Bums

by Neil Plakcy

  The turgid meat pulsed in his mouth. Colby shoved up with his hips to fuck wildly while he slurped loudly over Blake’s nads. His big hands seized the surfer’s naked butt and kneaded it as his tongue and lips massaged his balls.

  Blake gripped his hefty thighs and spread them. Below the cock and balls, Colby’s ivory-pale flesh was dotted with a few more freckles. A pink hole pouted in the smooth crack he’d opened up. He sucked on that huge boner while gazing down at the hole and contemplating what he’d like to do to it.

  Fingers roamed into Blake’s crack and found his hole. They boldly stroked and tickled the snug ass-lips as Blake grunted and wriggled against them. The mouth surrounding his ball sac drooled all over his crotch. He dropped lower over Colby’s cock to suck in half the throbbing shaft.

  As those fingers continued to tickle his sensitive butt-rim, he tried some of the same on the blond’s pink asshole. He pushed back on Colby’s big hamstrings with his elbows and held them high and wide apart before he began to run his hands all over the pale cheeks and crack. The hole pushed outward against his rubbing fingertips as he began to play with it.

  Colby spit out Blake’s fat balls and immediately gobbled up his cock. With his head rolling backwards, his throat opened up and he accepted the tapered head deep in his gullet.

  Both gurgling over cock, they rubbed each other’s assholes and squirmed around on the sleeping bag on its pliant bed of sand. Neither probed past the distended, quivering lips, but both swallowed cock right down to the balls.

  It didn’t last. Colby’s big body heaved beneath Blake as he rammed his cock as deep as possible into the surfer’s wet mouth and squirmed around the fingers stroking his asshole. He rubbed his own fingers all over Blake’s pouting butt-lips as he deep-throated his cock with snorts and gurgles.

  They shot. First it was Blake, but Colby joined him only a moment later. The surfer rose up off Colby’s sucking mouth and sprayed his chin and lips, while Blake clamped his own mouth over the blond’s plump knob and sucked him dry.

  Blake rolled off with a satisfied moan and turned around to face Colby. “I don’t mind a little fog if we can still find something fun like this to do.”

  With a wink and a satisfied smirk, Colby agreed. “Hell yeah. I’m definitely looking forward to more of the same. Much more.”

  There was more about the fog he liked. It was cool, a bonus when the rest of California sweltered in ninety-degree summer heat. It made everything look cozy and mysterious. It made it seem as if they were alone in the world.

  Fortunately, it lifted every day after lunch. The warm sunlight seemed even more dazzling in contrast to the drab gray it replaced. He surfed then, while Colby combed the beach for starfish and shells and all the natural crap he was so keen to investigate.

  Paddling out to set up for some waves, Blake turned to face the shore and caught sight of the crouching blond busily probing the nooks and crannies of the jumbled boulders a little north of their campsite. In a pair of jean cutoffs and nothing else, his powerful body gleamed with a freckled flush in the sparkling sunshine.

  He grinned as he thought how lucky they were. He loved to surf and Colby didn’t, but they both loved the beach. He had to admit he was sometimes a loner, and surfing allowed him the luxury of being alone with only the sea and the shore and his thoughts. Colby was definitely more sociable and loved to chatter his ear off, but he seemed quite capable of keeping himself occupied.

  The beach was so totally different than what he was used to. The redwood forest loomed on cliffs above, instead of the layers of beach houses and apartments that rose from the Southern California beaches. There was really no one around either, unlike the bustling crowds and honking cars of LA.

  He caught a sweet wave and rode it in. Nothing spectacular, but that suited him. He preferred the smooth effortless glide rather than the wild danger of crashing pipelines. Just being a part of the wave, balancing on his board, smelling the salty air, and tasting the salty sea were all the thrill he needed—at least as far as surfing was concerned.

  It was their second afternoon when Colby offered Blake the thrill he really wanted. He had just come in from an hour of surfing. Traipsing up through the warmed-up sand, he deposited his board beside their tent and looked around for his blond buddy.

  “Over here. I’ve been watching you. All that tan muscle balanced on that board. Hot. Really hot. Really, really hot.”

  Blake’s mouth dropped open. On the other side of the tent, in a little patch of sand between their camp and the fern-covered wall of the cliff behind it, Colby awaited him. His cutoffs were beside him. He knelt on all fours in the sand, his head craned around to face Blake as he wriggled his naked ass and winked.

  “Goddamn,” Blake hissed as he raced forward to cover the few yards that separated them.

  “It’s all yours. You can eat it, you can finger it, or you can fuck it. Or all three.”

  “All three,” Blake grunted out as he dropped to his knees between the blond’s spread thighs.

  With trembling hands, he seized the hefty ass cheeks and pulled them wide apart. The hole he’d teased the previous morning pouted open. In the bright sunlight it flushed pale pink. He groaned aloud as he dove down to clamp his mouth over it.

  “Fuck yeah! Show me how a surf bum can use his tongue. Ohh yeah. Get me ready for that juicy cock of yours. That’s it! Lick it, Blake!”

  Colby wasn’t about to keep his mouth shut, and Blake choked back laughter as he sucked and licked at the tight hole while pulling Colby’s cheeks as wide open as possible. The hole gaped open in response to his slurps. He buried his tongue between the convulsing lips.

  He ate Colby out while the muscular blond wriggled enthusiastically and egged him on with a constant barrage of nasty encouragement. Blake was glad they were out of sight and earshot of anyone who might be passing by on the beach below.

  Licking and tonguing were soon not enough. He got his fingers in there and began to probe as he licked. Spit coated the lips and eased the way for an index finger to slither into the snug cavern beyond.

  “Yeah! Bury that finger in my ass. Twist it around. Like that. Deeper! I fucking love it!”

  Spitting as he lapped at the hole with his tongue, he crammed his finger in past the second knuckle, found the prostate, and rubbed it. He pulled part of the way out and then thrust back in. He spit some more and gently added another finger.

  Colby’s sphincter resisted slightly, then yawned open. He grunted and heaved backwards to swallow up both fingers while crying out for more. The snug feel of palpitating ass-lips clamping and massaging his fingers had Blake wanting more, too.

  Colby apparently felt the same. “I put some lube in my shorts. Get it out and use it. I need some cock. And I’m betting your cock wants some of this ass!”

  Blake didn’t mind obeying the demanding bottom’s nasty orders. He actually liked it. There was no guessing involved—and no worries about doing the wrong thing. He rose from his feast with a smack of his lips. He gazed at his handiwork while he reached out with his right hand to rummage in Colby’s discarded shorts lying in the sand beside them.

  Two fingers of his right hand were still digging around in the flushed hole, and his hand protruded from the ivory ass crack. His smooth butt cheeks rose up from Colby’s narrow waist like mountains. He was shorter than the tall surfer but must have outweighed him by a good fifty pounds, all of it muscle.

  Blake found the tube of lubricant and flipped off the lid with his fingertips. Upending it over that heaving butt, he squirted. A huge stream of the clear gel splattered that can and slithered down between the pale mounds. He squirted a little more, just to be sure. Blake firmly believed that you could never use too much lube.

  The goo ran down around his buried fingers. He pumped it into the seething hole, stretching the sphincter out so that his cock could replace his fingers. He took his time feeding Colby the lube, even though he continued to demand cock right now.

  “Hold
on, Colby. I gotta loosen you up. And I have to get my pants off,” he finally blurted out.

  “Well, get those shorts off, then! I’m dying for a good hard fuck. Can’t you tell? I knew from the moment we met that you’d be into my ass. I just knew it! Now get that cock up my butt.”

  He wriggled his hefty butt to emphasize the point but laughed at the same time. He knew how he sounded, and it didn’t bother him. Blake liked him even more for that.

  He had to abandon the steamy hole momentarily in order to get out of his flowery surf shorts. His fingers eased from the quivering slot with a slurp, followed by a stream of lube. He’d packed a lot of it in there.

  Transfixed by that oozing hole and big white butt, he scrambled to crawl out of his shorts and kick them aside. His cock bobbed out between them as he re-positioned himself between Colby’s knees and closer to his rearing can.

  He leaned in to rub his stiff rod between the parted cheeks. It looked dark and menacing against the ivory ass. He hoped like hell it wasn’t going to hurt Colby when he buried it up his butt. Squirming eagerly back against his rubbing cock and demanding to get fucked, Colby seemed willing to take it no matter what.

  “Here it comes, buddy. Cock, like you wanted. Tell me if it hurts,” he warned.

  He planted the tapered head in place and began to push. His fingers had done a good job of stretching out the sphincter, and Colby’s wriggling along with all that lube helped too. His cock-head disappeared. Clamping ass-lips pulled him deeper. He grunted and shoved.

  “Hell! You’re killing me with that gigantic dick! You bastard!”

  Colby’s laughter was followed by a mighty heave of those huge ass cheeks. He gulped up nearly all of Blake’s boner.

  “Oh my god. Oh my god,” Blake moaned.

  They fucked. With Colby rearing and humping Blake’s cock like it was the best thing he’d ever had up his hungry ass, there was no reason for the auburn-haired surfer to hold back. He rammed in and out, balls-deep. His lean hips slapped mercilessly against Colby’s big solid ass-cheeks.

  The warm, fog-dampened sand beneath Blake’s knees and shins created a soft and yielding bed. He was acutely aware of the sensual feel of it, and that Colby knelt in it too, his own knees and shins and toes burrowing into it. They were totally naked, the sunlight and the sand and the sounds of the surf below surrounding them. It was the first time he’d ever had sex outdoors, and he would never forget it.

  He reached around Colby’s waist and pumped his plump cock with a slippery hand. The big university student slid his knees even wider apart in the sand and cried out for more. Blake pumped and fucked relentlessly as the sun bathed them from above and they grew sweatier and sweatier.

  The sensation of that sweet hole clinging, then releasing, then swallowing him up again pushed him to the brink, but he held back. Colby seemed poised at the same precipice. He hollered and swore and begged and heaved. His cock grew so stiff it seemed as if it was about to burst in Blake’s pumping hand. It finally did. Cum erupted as the hefty blond blew his load. Blake followed with a dizzying spew of his own.

  The remainder of that week was just as exciting. They sucked and fucked day and night, in the fog, in the sunlight, in the tent, in the surf. Colby wasn’t afraid to experiment, and Blake was happy to oblige.

  Ten years later, as he recalled that awesome week, Blake realized that his time with Colby had affected him in many unexpected ways. He’d grown more adventurous and traveled to beaches all over the world.

  In Hawaii he watched a surf competition on Oahu where the waves were so high and daunting he was absolutely terrified. At Bondi Beach in Australia he watched a lifeguard competition where the lifeguards unexpectedly pulled their skimpy suits into the cracks of their asses when they boarded their surf canoes. He could practically see their entire butts, right there in the bright Australian sunlight.

  In Rio the slums marched down to the beach and gangs mingled with tourists. He met a hot Brazilian thug who wanted to become an American porn star. His dick was cannon-sized and he knew how to use it, so Blake told him quite honestly he had a good chance at that. In the Yucatán the water was a beautiful azure and the sand sparkling white. Mayan ruins rose right up from the beach where he fucked a Mexican tour guide behind some rocks with the surf splashing against their feet. On the sun-washed beaches of South Africa, he spotted sea lions and whales while riding the surf. Water buffalo and zebras grazed on grass above the sandy shore.

  But here he was back in California again. Home.

  He turned away from the water and faced the cliffs. No one was around, except of course Colby, still pretending to read on a blanket. He’d been watching Blake while he surfed, and was watching him now out of the corner of his eyes.

  He left his board where it was and strode over to the quiet figure.

  “You’ve been watching me pretty close. I think you want some of this.”

  He pulled out his cock and shoved it into the gawking sunbather’s mouth before he could even speak. He fucked that mouth good and deep, grinning down at the wide green eyes and freckled nose before he finally relented and pulled out with a nasty slurp.

  Colby pushed him away, but only so he could tear off his shorts and drop down onto the sand beside his blanket, white ass rearing.

  “And I think you want some of this,” Colby teased, wagging his powerful ass.

  In the sand, just like that first fuck ten years earlier. Blake crawled in behind his boyfriend and knelt in the sand between his spread thighs. Now it was time to satisfy his adventurous yearnings with the one person who knew him best.

  His sand dreams had found a home.

  SUMMER FOLK

  Michael Bracken

  We went to the beach every summer whether we wanted to or not, and we stayed in a six-bedroom beach house with an ever-changing number of relatives. The boys shared one bedroom, the girls shared another, and our parents paired off into the other four bedrooms. The general overseer for the summer—my grandmother, all the years I was growing up—had an efficiency apartment above the two-car garage. Our extended family lived in the house from Memorial Day weekend until Labor Day weekend, and when and how long each family stayed depended on a variety of factors, often involving available vacation time and who had insulted whom over the Christmas holidays.

  When I was young, I enjoyed spending several weeks at the beach with my cousins. As a teenager I resented mandatory fun in the sun when what I most craved was to lock myself in my bedroom, smoke pot, and fantasize about some of the guys in my gym class. During college, I skipped summers at the beach because I was working or enrolled in summer classes, but I had no job prospects when I graduated as an English major in the middle of a recession. My mother convinced me to spend the entire summer at the house to act as general overseer, a responsibility my grandmother had tired of and no other relative had stepped forward to accept.

  My duties were minimal: manage the summer finances, keep the fridge stocked with staples, ensure that we never ran out of toilet paper, and call the appropriate repairman if the plumbing stopped up or one of the children threw a baseball through the front window. In exchange, I would live rent-free in the efficiency apartment above the garage for more than three months while I continued my job search by applying for positions I found online.

  The house was empty when I arrived the Thursday preceding Memorial Day weekend. I walked through the place with the caretaker, a local man who lived in town and took care of the property three seasons out of four. Charlie had already uncovered all the furniture, washed all the windows, and otherwise prepared the house for my family’s arrival. I had not seen him in several years and was surprised at how slowly he moved and how much trouble he had climbing the stairs to the second floor. After I saw that everything was in order, I followed Charlie’s rattletrap pickup truck a mile north into town to stock up on the things we needed to start the summer.

  I had a shopping list handed down by my grandmother; purchasing everything on the
list filled two carts. A woman as old as the town rang up my purchases and an attractive blond man near my age bagged everything. He wore tight-fitting jeans and a torso-hugging polo shirt with the store’s logo embroidered on one side of his chest and a name badge reading “Tony” pinned to the other. He bagged quickly and efficiently, hesitating every fifth item or so to brush a wayward lock of blond hair away from his pale blue eyes.

  “Need help getting all this out?” he asked.

  I did and I told him so.

  As we pushed the carts out of the store, Tony said, “Looks like you’re preparing for an invasion.”

  I laughed. “My family has a summer house south of town. I’m the advance guard.”

  “You’re summer folk?”

  “Most of my life,” I said as we loaded everything into my car. “Haven’t made it the past few years, though.”

  He looked me up and down as if taking my measure as a man, but I couldn’t tell from his expression what his assessment might be. Then we both reached for my car’s trunk to close it and his hand covered mine. An electric tingle shot up my arm, coursed through my entire body, and caused a tightening in my crotch. I took a deep breath. “Bag boy” wasn’t on my grandmother’s shopping list so, no matter how appealing I found Tony, he was a seductive treat best left at the grocery store. I said, “I have to go.”

  We closed the trunk together and Tony stepped away.

  There wasn’t much else to say, so I climbed behind the wheel of my Mustang and watched Tony’s jeans-clad ass as he wheeled the two carts back into the store.

  I saw Tony jogging along the beach early the next morning. He wore neon-blue running shorts, white running shoes covered with clinging wet sand, and nothing else, revealing the long, lean body of a swimmer. Even though it was an unusually warm May morning on the Jersey shore, it was too cold for me to be outside without my full-length terry-cloth robe wrapped around me. I was sitting on the deck of the main house drinking coffee, enjoying my last morning of solitude before my relatives invaded. Tony saw me watching him and waved.