Surfer Boys

by Neil S. Plakcy

  “Hey, old man,” a voice called from the shadows.

  Todd walked into the stream of moonlight. He was naked.

  He held out his hand. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Revenge begets revenge and the cycle goes on forever. I didn’t care. All I wanted was to feel Todd again. He was rough. There was no kissing, no cuddling. He bent me forward and plunged in hard, winding me. I said nothing as he fucked silently, afraid to give sound to his desire. He knew he was hurting me even though I made no complaint. “Now we’re even,” he spat. But even as he continued to fuck me savagely I felt the warmth of his tears on my back. He pushed me away from him as disgusted with himself as he was with me. “I can’t do it,” he sobbed.

  I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m glad you couldn’t.”

  The next morning as I loaded my car and strapped my board to the bonnet Shelley came to see me off.

  “So what decision have you come to?” she said.

  I smiled. “It was never my decision to make. I knew that I couldn’t be dispassionate about Seaspray. I all but disqualified myself long ago on the grounds of conflict of interest. They’ll appoint someone else to decide your future. I came up to see what was left of the old place.”

  Shelley was still laughing as I drove toward the beach. In the distance I could see a lone surfer waiting for errant waves. As I watched, one rose from the mouth of the bay and the surfer waited patiently, anticipating its every move. He caught it and cut through the water, majestically riding it close to the shore. As he emerged triumphant and excited from the surf and walked up the beach carrying his board I opened the car door. And waited.

  SURF STUD INITIATION

  Christopher Pierce

  I’d been surfing the beaches of Malibu since I was a kid, and I knew the shores like the back of my hand. So when I finally shaped my first custom board, getting it just the way I wanted it, I knew I had to try it out somewhere special, not on the same old waves I’d been riding for years.

  I had heard rumors of waves that were twenty-five and thirty feet high in the waters beyond the rocky cove at the farthest edge of Malibu. Some of the really expert surfers, the rippers, had even said they’d seen waves that were thirty-five-feet high.

  Damn! Heaven on earth! But it was too dangerous. As well, there were rumors that a surf cult, a group of surfers that guarded their territory as ferociously as wild animals, had laid claim to the region just outside the cove border, making it off-limits to anyone else.

  Standing at the water’s edge with the breakers splashing around my feet, I knew I was ready. Fastening my board’s leash around my ankle so it couldn’t get separated from me, I lay down on it and paddled out into the ocean.

  The chill of the water on my naked skin was delicious in the warm morning air. Proud of my slim, muscled physique, I never wore anything surfing except a pair of swim trunks.

  I reached the cove border in no time, and without a second thought I paddled out into the open ocean. Soon enough, I was outside the cove’s protective embrace, with nothing between me and the distant, deserted beach but the waves.

  They were already bigger than I was used to. Sets of them were crashing down, at least twenty to twenty-five feet high. I realized I had something to prove to myself. I wanted an initiation, a ritual that would transform me from an amateur surfer into a ripper—a real master of the ocean. Taming this treacherous area was just the challenge I needed. Here, away from the lifeguard towers and the safety of the familiar, I could find out what I was made of.

  Here, I could prove to myself and the ocean that I was a ripper.

  But there was no more time for thought, because a new set was heading my way. Even from this far away, I could see how many waves were coming—seven. Australian surf-superstition was in force today. Some Aussie surfers believe that sets of seven waves were perfect, divinely ordained, ideal for riding.

  This was my chance.

  The swells got closer and closer, and as I got ready I could see them rising, seeming to get larger and larger by some ocean magic. As usual in the presence of large waves, I felt my cock harden up painfully between myself and the board. My whole body was responding to the sea, as if I was hot-wired into its energy by nature itself. Maybe that was why I felt exhilarated instead of scared as the waves crashed toward me.

  It was time. I paddled toward the first wave, picking up speed as I got closer and closer. At the moment the board was picked up by the swell’s momentum, I got up to my feet.

  My concentration as sharp as a diamond, I performed a few deft maneuvers and then I was there—on top of the swell. Riding the crest of the wave, I felt omnipotent, like a god of the sea in ancient mythology.

  With my dick tenting my trunks, I looked down at the raging water beneath me. I could hardly believe it, but the wave was definitely getting higher as it approached the shore. I was at least thirty feet above the surface, if not higher. Ecstasy flowed through me: I had done it! I had conquered the ocean! Nothing could stop me now.

  I glanced behind me to see if the rest of the waves in the set had gotten this high. They had, but something else caught my attention…

  I wasn’t alone.

  Riding the waves with perfect form and precision, and staring at me with venom in their eyes, were three other surfers. In the split second I saw them, my brain instantly registered everything I needed to know about them.

  They were gorgeous men, their faces tanned and handsome, their bodies chiseled from years on their boards. They were even better than me, because they were surfing with the casual, breathtaking skill of true rippers. They were the surf cult, the guardians of this part of the ocean. This was their sacred space, the place where they and they alone could ride the swells.

  I had violated it.

  And they were going to punish me.

  A second of fear and panic was all it took to make me lose my concentration. With a yell, I lost my footing and went flying off my board into the wave. Water filled my ears and nose as I crashed downward. I heard a sickening snap that I knew was my precious board being broken in two by the force of the wave.

  I fought my way to the surface, and was just in time to get caught in the next swell as it smashed down. Somehow, I was able to get to the beach. The undertow was hard to escape but I did it, and dragged myself up onto the sand. Exhausted and battered, I collapsed facedown.

  Waves crashed behind me. I knew the guys from the surf cult were emerging from the water, like mermen or some other creatures of the ocean, hell-bent on revenge.

  Too tired and freaked out to care, I just lay there trying to catch my breath. Suddenly strong hands grabbed my arms and dragged me up farther onto the sand. Someone removed the leash from my ankle. A bare foot slid under my armpit and flipped me over onto my back.

  The sun was blinding as I squinted upward. The three rippers were standing over me, staring down with expressions of anger and disgust. One had short, curly, sun-bleached hair and dark eyes; another had long brown hair that reached his shoulders. The third one was a black guy with his head shaved bald.

  All three of them had incredible bodies, toned and lean and gorgeous. But I couldn’t think of that, because they were about to kick the shit out of me.

  “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing here, punk?” the long-haired one asked, spitting his words out. “This is cult territory.”

  “It’s off-limits to all outsiders,” the blond one said.

  The black ripper went down on his haunches and grinned at me.

  “You know what we do to guys we catch surfing in our swells, man?”

  Terrified, I didn’t answer. “They’re never heard from again.” He stood back up and looked at his buddies.

  “What should we do with him, Randy?” the blond one asked.

  “I can think of a lot of things, Bryan,” the black surfer answered.

  “Do you think he’ll give us much trouble?” long-hair said.

  “Naw,” said Randy, who must have
been the leader. “He’s thrashed. We can do whatever we want.”

  “Good,” the long-haired ripper said, kneeling down and popping his boner out of his swimsuit. I could hardly believe this was happening. Before I could protest, the guy was whacking his hard cock on my face, slamming it against my nose and cheeks.

  “Open up, virgin boy…” he said. “Time to teach you a few things.” Feeling my own dick getting even harder in my shorts, I opened my mouth and took the big invader in.

  “Ahh,” long-hair moaned as he plowed in and out of my willing mouth. “That feels good!”

  Bryan whipped out his own cock and started jerking it, laughing.

  “Work him, Scott!” he said. “Fuck that mouth!”

  Randy dropped down to his knees between my legs.

  “I gotta get me some of this…” he grunted as he yanked my shorts off and tossed my legs up over his shoulders. I started to fight, trying to twist away. Scott’s dick popped out of my mouth as he moved to hold me still. Bryan tackled me, crashing his whole body on top of me and grabbing my wrists in his hands. Now I was trapped. With all three of them on me like that, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  “That’s better,” Randy said as slid the foreskin back on his cock to reveal the dark mushroom-shaped head inside.

  It was leaking a clear drop of precome out of its piss-slit. The ripper spit on his hand and used it to grease up his organ, then aimed it at my tight hole.

  “Please!” I yelled. “I’m sorry I surfed in your territory! I’ll do anything you want, just—”

  “Man, fill his mouth with something!” Randy said disgustedly. “I don’t want to listen to him anymore.”

  “My turn, bro,” Bryan said to Scott as he got up on his knees so he was straddling my torso. In a second he had his cock stuffed in my mouth, cutting off my yelling.

  “That’s better,” Randy said. “Now I can have my fill of this boy.” I knew what was coming and tried to resist, but Scott grabbed my arms and held them down with his knees, crushing them into the sand.

  The big black dick found my asshole and started pushing its way inside. I screamed but Bryan’s cock prevented any noise from coming out.

  “Scream all you want, surf-boy…” Scott hissed in my ear as Bryan and Randy moaned above me. “There’s no one for miles around…you’re ours now.”

  I was terrified—and yet at the same time excited. It was incredibly hot to get used and abused by these men. These were the kind of guys I worshipped and had always wanted to make it with. My surfing buddies had gotten me turned on plenty of times before, but I’d always wimped out and never gotten anywhere with them sexually.

  Now I was having what I always wanted come to me whether I was ready or not. I realized there was no sense in fighting them anymore. Scott’s words were true.

  I belonged to them. My dick was still hard, and it got even harder when Randy grabbed it and started fisting it. My moans made the rippers laugh.

  “Yeah, now he’s gettin’ into it,” Randy snarled as he plowed my ass harder. “This boy knows what it means to get caught in cult territory.”

  “He’s never going to be the same again,” Bryan said as he pulled his cock out of my mouth and then jammed it back in.

  “Not when we’re through with him,” Scott said, cautiously releasing my arms. To show them I was through resisting, I left them where they were, harmless and out of the way.

  “Looks like the fire’s out of him, Randy,” he said.

  I saw the black man’s eyes roll back into his head as he screwed my virgin ass.

  “Naw, he’s just heatin’ up!” he growled. Bryan laughed.

  I felt like my whole body was getting surges of power pumped into it. These guys were incredible, and I was the receptacle of their strength. It was almost like they wanted to make me a part of them, to absorb my energy into their own.

  I was so turned on I forgot to be afraid. It didn’t matter what was coming next. After they had gotten their rocks off who knew what would happen. Maybe they’d dump me in the ocean without a board. Maybe they’d beat the crap out of me and leave me for dead out here miles away from civilization. But it didn’t matter. All that did was here, now, and the two sizzling hot cocks that were fucking me, one at each end.

  The black ripper put both hands on my abs, kneading and massaging them with his strong fingers. It felt so good.

  I lifted my own arms to feel the man sitting on my chest. Bryan’s pecs were hard as rocks, his nipples like little nubs of steel sticking out. His weight on me was an aphrodisiac, and the sand ground beneath my back and butt.

  “Scott, put that mouth of yours to use,” Randy said suddenly. He was short of breath, so I knew he must be getting closer.

  “You got it, man,” the long-haired surfer said as he pivoted around and arranged his head between his buddies’ bodies. I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t the exquisite mouth that engulfed my straining cock and sucked it down to the root. My eyes screwed themselves shut and my head lolled back on my neck.

  The sound of the waves pounded in my ears as the spectacular sensations washed through me…the big black cock fucking my ass, the blond cock fucking my face, and that sweet warm mouth on my own peter. I felt like I could come any second, I was so hot. The sun beat down on us, and the smell of the salt water filled my nostrils.

  I wanted to be frozen in time, caught in golden amber like a prehistoric insect. I couldn’t ever have imagined experiencing something as incredible, as bizarre, or as hot as this.

  Randy’s balls were smacking against me as he pistoned in and out of my hungry asshole. Every thrust was magical, his long pecker finding just the right spot inside that sent me over the moon with pleasure.

  Scott’s talented mouth was taking in as much of my cock as it could. His tongue slurped and slobbered around it, coating me with his hot saliva.

  I continued to work Bryan’s dick with my own mouth and tongue, swirling my lips around his flared glans to give him as much ecstasy as I could.

  When I opened my eyes all I saw were the surfers. The sun, the sky, nothing else registered…only their hard ropes of muscle beneath dark tanned skin, their shaved bodies, and their big jock dicks using me for their pleasure.

  The big black fucker started going faster and faster. I could tell he was getting ready to shoot his wad. The blond stud on top of me also sped up, fucking my mouth with horny desperation. Scott increased the intensity of his blow job, sensing his buddies’ imminent explosions and wanting to keep pace. Through the fever haze of my sex-trance I saw him grab his cock and start jerking it too.

  Now we were all headed for the point of no return, like riding a wave and knowing it’s too late to back out. Overwhelmed with stimulation, my orgasm roared through me like a giant swell, crashing down into my body with a burst of power and glory. Scott lifted off of me in time to watch the geyser of my cum spurt up into the air. I screamed against Bryan’s dick in my mouth as the pleasure flooded through me.

  The blond ripper got up, pulled out of me, and started to furiously pound his meat. My jizz-burst splattered back down onto me, a big, wet, slimy, clear-white puddle.

  The surfers growled in bliss as they watched me writhing on the sand beneath them. Randy’s breath sped up so fast he might have been hyperventilating.

  “I’m cumming, dudes!” he said as he yanked his cock out of me and aimed it at my chest. “Look out!” With the force of a torpedo Randy’s load shot out of his long dick and splashed onto my chest. It joined with my own puddle of cum, and the ripper let out a guttural roar of carnal ecstasy.

  Bryan was next. The blond hunk pumped his cock in his fist and then suddenly he was squirting out ropes of sticky jizz. It splattered down to join the rest of the cum on me. He came silently, with only the quivering of his body to mark the pleasure he was feeling inside.

  Last but not least, the long-haired cocksucker let loose his own load. His cum was almost as clear as water, as if he was s
hooting lube-juice instead of the real thing. A huge smile broke out on his face, and he let out a long moan of passion and release.

  Covered with hot surfer cum, I lay there staring up at the surf cult. After they had recovered from their orgasms, Bryan and Scott looked at Randy.

  “You know what’s next, dudes,” he said.

  I thought I was a goner, that now that they’d gotten their rocks off they were gonna finish the job they started…punishing me for invading their turf.

  The three men hunkered down and started dumping handfuls of sand onto my chest. Too stunned to protest or even say anything, I just watched as they ground the hard particles into the pools of man-cream on my pecs and abs, mixing it all up into a slimy, gritty muck.

  Every nerve ending in my body was on fire, as the incredible juxtaposition of sensations engulfed my chest. The combination of the sticky cum and rough sand trapped between their hands and my skin was incredible.

  Then they threw their heads back and howled at the sky, baying and screaming like wild animals or natives in a jungle. It was a primal, powerful moment, to be lying there in the center of those electrifying men while they acted out some pagan ritual.

  When they were done, they got to their feet and pulled me up to stand with them. “What’s…what’s happening?” I said. Randy smiled at me and took my hand in his.

  “You’re one of us now,” he said. “Welcome to the cult.”

  Scott and Bryan clapped me on the back, laughing at my amazed expression.

  “But…” I started.

  “Yeah, you did invade our turf,” Bryan interrupted. “But you’re a damn good surfer. You had that wave tamed. The only reason you fell was ’cause we freaked you.”

  “We want you,” Scott said simply. “You’re hot.”

  “Initiation’s over,” Randy said. “You’re a ripper now.”

  My heart soared. The sound of the waves was loud in my ears as the three men embraced me, hugging me fiercely, bringing me into their sacred inner circle.