CHAPTER ONE

 

 

 

I guess you've really never lived until you've lain on your back on the sand, head on your folded leather jacket, and looked out at the broad blue reaches of the Pacific through the hairy legs of a young surfer.

 

He was facing out toward the Pacific, too, and was very busy. He squeezed a couple inches of grease out of a tube, and reached around backside with his right hand, while with his left he pulled one cheek of his ass aside. With a practiced aim he laid the grease right on the small brown fucker hole, the Gate of Heaven, and then he tossed the tube into the sand, and looked around smiling over his shoulders, his long blond hair blowing a little in the ocean breeze.

 

"Ready, man?" He had a strong deep voice.

I got two fingers around the base of my cock and pounded it straight up and down. "Yup," I said.

 

I was perfectly flat, my legs spread. He spread his even farther, and still standing planted a foot on each side of me below the knees. Then he stiffened his arms, held them behind at an angle, and fell backward.

 

It damned near scared me to death. I flinched, but he didn't see it. He must have, had some training in gymnastics to do a thing like that. It was odd to see him in such a four point positioned his weight resting entirely on his two feet and his two straightened arms. The muscles of his back and shoulders were ridged and hard.

 

Four points? It was really five. He let his body sink slowly downward, while I, helpful to the end, to his end, guided ole Betsy straight and true towards the small inverted U formed where the cheeks of his ass came together, a kind of curve I'd rarely been, and visible only, when one was stretched out like an inverted daddy long legs, as he was.

 

The grease was still cool, not yet warmed by his body heat or the sun, and I felt my cockhead touch it gently, sink into it and then stop, because his asshole was not yet open. He rested easily in that tensed position, finally beginning a series of small up-and-down movements, very gentle, pushing my cock now stiff as steel and sensitive to the tiny folds and ridges of his asshole harder each time against the closed ring. I felt it give a little, and then reached up with my hands to his hipbones (the skin silky satin soft), and using some pressure held him steadily balanced on my cock. The head was already halfway in, and now it was my turn to start a few movements of my hips, prodding easily and gently at the folds of the asshole, still defeated by that damned sphincter. Then I felt it give a bit more, and suddenly I was into him, that red-warm cavern so often explored, yet so continually new.

 

He sighed flatly, and the tension in his arms and legs relaxed. He lowered his body down on mine and, with a gentle circular movement of his ass, he ground lightly against my pelvic bone. I reached up around his flat belly beginning to be moist with the sun and the sweat of his exertions and pulled him close against me, crossing my arms over his chest, my fingers finding first one nipple and then the other, which I rolled between thumb and forefinger he was not unpleasantly heavy upon me.

 

I raised my knees and dug my heels into the damp sand to get more leverage, and then started to fuck him, long slow thrusts which raised his body at its center point, and let it fall again. And he was not inactive. He set up a pattern of squirming, half circular, half up and down that directed my cock into all the pleasure spots of his ass and probably buzzed his joy spot with every third thrust, judging from the soft moans of pleasure that escaped him.

 

His nipples had hardened and my hands left them, sliding down his sleek flat belly past his navel to reach his cock. I crossed my thumbs at the base of it and titted my hands down alongside his heavy balls, my fingers pressing hard against the little bridge between his cock and asshole. His cock was rigid and upstanding. I could feel it but I could not see it, with his head in the way. And I was a little distracted, too, I must admit. That long blond hair fell right in my face so that I was unconsciously turning to avoid it or else trying to get it out of my eyes and mouth without making too much of a fuss.

 

"Hey!" I said suddenly, after this nineteenth century dalliance had gone on for about five minutes.

 

He turned his head a little. "Yes... what?" he asked dreamily.

"Man, you may be having the time of your life," I said, my hand giving his cock a few up-and-downs for good measure, "but it's hard for me to come."

He said softly, "How you want to do it?"

"Get up on your knees," I said. "I'm gonna fuck you doggy doggy."

"Whatever turns you on," he said. He began to lift his upper body and I lifted mine along with his so that we didn't break the connecting rod.

 

He crouched on his haunches and I put both hands into the tight pressed curve of his belly and thighs and lifted him up a trifle, so that the angle was better.

 

A lot of things go into the making of a good fuck. In this position I could see the Pacific, and watch the waves breaking against the striated gray black shale of the sandy cove. And I could also look straight down and see the thick length of ole Betsy. Shining in the sunlight with the grease he'd put on driving in and out, in and out, turning the lips of his ass first inward, then outward, and, by God, I was feeling burly and dominant, and sea shouldering. I felt the sun all along my back and legs, warm and sensual, and the dampness of the packed sand on my knees and shin bones. I could raise my eyes from my cock and see the long, slove needles of turquoise and pearl breaking in the air as the waves hit the tortured rocks. It was no distraction from the fucking, but an added enjoyment. And I could look lower to see the long, lean muscles of my surfer's back, hard bunched and tanned to a deep sienna, with tones of copper and rose. His tightened, small ass, even in this position, did not have the pear shape of a female's; the lines of it were straight and good, and its muscles worked diligently under the smooth brown skin, as he reached for my cock with his ass, clutching on the in-thrust and then tightening it, the canal as I drew outward. He was enjoying it, and I was too. He kept up a soft moaning, with small whinnies of pleasure now and then as I passed a really sensitive spot.

 

"Oh, fuck me!" he said softly, and clutched me hard.

 

Sometimes you pick up your own enjoyment and pleasure from that of others. I could have screwed him for an hour, it felt so good, but when he said "Fuck me!" it triggered my own response. I felt the tiny hairs of the nerve endings all over my body suddenly flame with the approach of the orgasm, and then from the nape of my neck, rapidly descending the stairway of my backbone, came the first flash. It concentrated in my groin and balls, swirled through the hidden secret tubes and vesicles, zipped back up to pleasure center in my brain.

 

And then, just before the first shot came, I had an impulse. I drew my cock out of his ass, and gasping, straining, toes bent under, with my cock laid straight and hard up the crack of his ass, came all over him, my jism springing out of me without control, thick white gouts of it landing halfway up his back, and still pumping, pumping, laying itself in long lines of white over his muscular ass, and sliding down one asscheeks to lose itself in my pubic hair and down around my balls.

 

The orgasm was so condensed that I fell down on top of him, smearing my jism all over his back and ass, and my belly and balls. My weight pressed him farther down, so that he was almost in a fetal position in the sand. I rubbed my chin against his backbone, still gasping.