Date: Fri, 5 Aug 2011 08:25:30 -0700 (PDT)
From: Greg Sullivan <greeneyeguysmut@yahoo.com>
Subject: Vacation at Sandy Hook

Copyright 2011 by Green Eye Guy. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to
Nifty Archives, to archive and display this work. All other uses are expressly
forbidden unless explicit arrangement has been made with the author. This
copyright applies to all chapters and pages of this work. It may not be
reproduced, posted, stored electronically, or archived, except for personal,
non-public use, without the express written permission of the author.

DISCLAIMER: This story is fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or
dead is purely coincidence and is not intended by the author. This work
contains homoerotic and sexual behavior between males and may not be legal for
reading or publication depending on local or national laws. Therefore the
reader is forewarned to read at their own risk.


Vacation at Sandy Hook
By Green Eye Guy, 2011


I stepped out of my hotel room in Atlantic City and looked down the long
corridor toward the elevator lobby. In truth, it wasn't just a hotel; it was a
casino, one of the big glitzy ones along the infamous boardwalk. The room was
comfortable and had all of the amenities I'd hoped for, though the view toward
the city was not as spectacular as those looking out over the mighty Atlantic.

The hallway was quiet at this hour. The late night gamblers were sleeping off
their booze hazes and spoils in the rooms of the 11th floor. It was 8:12 AM,
far from daybreak in the New Jersey summer months, but for the high rollers
and their acquaintances, it might as well have been the middle of the night.

I was visiting New Jersey for the first time since my childhood. You see, my
name is Jake Boyd, and I'm a high school literature teacher from Ohio in a
small town outside of Dayton. The exact town doesn't really matter; it was
like every other suburb in the state, dull and predictable. My career was the
one shining light in my life. I loved literature with a passion, and as luck
would have it, I was assigned the junior and senior year students. Each day,
we read through moderately advanced stories and dissected them, piece by
piece, word by word, seeking their deeper meanings.

I'd only graduated college a year ago myself. Fortunately, I studied hard and
worked even harder, landing top honors from a well-known institution on the
West Coast. That's why I was able to land such a lucrative job so quickly,
albeit in the styx. I was only a few years older than most of my students, and
to differentiate myself from the student body, I grew a short, scruffy beard
during the school months. But the minute school let out for the summer and the
students headed out for vacations and months of fun, I would wander over to
the men's room and quickly shave it off.

So this clean-shaven high school literature teacher, vacationing in the Garden
State, found himself free and clear for a few weeks. Keys in hand, I walked
toward the lobby. Today was going to be a beach day for me, something I missed
from my college days in sunny California, and I was dressed for the occasion.
A light blue t-shirt hugged my lightly defined chest. For my first day on the
beach, I picked out a pair of chocolate board shorts that fit me perfectly.
And the dark brown leather flip flops on my feet were comfortable and ideal
for treading across hot outdoor surfaces without burning the soles of my feet.
A messenger bag was slung over my right shoulder, holding a few books, some
sun block, a towel and two frozen water bottles. As they melted, I'd sip the
cool water and rehydrate on the sand.

I was the only person in the lobby when I pressed the button hailing the
elevator. A moment later, the doors slid open and I stepped inside, not
noticing the young man in the corner at first. He must have been around my
age, and he'd clearly had a long night out. His scruffy chin was in need of a
shave, and his clothes were ruffled from a late night party. He was rubbing
his eyes and breathing heavily but slowly, slumped against the corner of the
car.

"Going down?" he said to me, his voice warbling and slightly scratchy.

"I wish," I thought, taking in his ungroomed masculine image. It was pleasant;
back in Ohio, a lot of the young men were either farmers or rebels, leaving
the upper middle class for other wealthier areas of the country.

"Yes," I finally replied with a smile.  "Heading out to enjoy this beach day.
Yourself?"

"I've got some unfinished business with the slots," he said, a dry humor to
his tone. "It was a rough one yesterday, and I don't intend to get fucked
twice in a row."

I smiled politely, enjoying the second double entendre in a row.

We parted ways at the ground floor lobby. He wandered toward the sparkling,
ringing floor; I headed toward the garage where my rental car was parked. I'd
arrived yesterday, a Wednesday, and the garage was nearly empty. I managed to
pick up one of the spots closest to the garage entrance, a treat.

Inside the sedan, I pulled the GPS out from underneath the passenger seat.
From my messenger bag, I retrieved a folded piece of paper with an address on
it. Fumbling for a moment, my fingers punched the address into the GPS: 210
Route 36, Sea Bright, NJ. It wasn't exact, but it was the closest I could pull
up on Google Maps.

For all of my teenage life in rural Ohio, I'd dreamed of visiting Sandy Hook,
NJ. The thought of sunbathing nude just a stone's throw from Manhattan
thrilled and excited me, and I was looking forward to finally crossing it off
my bucket list.

Now, I'm no supermodel, but I would definitely consider myself handsome. I'm
5'8", around 145 pounds and trim with some muscle definition in my abs. I
shave most of my body hair, leaving just a trimmed patch above my cock and two
small tufts under my armpits. Though my spiky brown hair is somewhat dark, the
lighters hairs on my legs and arms are barely visible.

And, of course, there's my cock. I probably wouldn't be anything spectacular
in the world of porn, but I'm proud of my 8 inches. The large head is cut,
dangling down by a low set of medium-sized balls. I'm more of a show-er than a
grower, but I like my equipment.  You could even say I embrace it-it's nothing
to be ashamed of, and frankly, I could imagine worse.

If you hadn't guessed by now, I'm gay.  I'd never had a boyfriend, though
there were a few one-night stands in college. They never really went very far.
I made out with another guy from my dorm once, but we didn't shed any clothes
in the process. Another time, a younger student volunteered to give me a
blowjob.  I graciously accepted, enjoying the feeling of his lips and tongue
servicing my cock and balls. And one time, after a rare night of drinking, I
went home with a guy I met at a bar and we 69-ed for a few hours. The
experiences were great, but I never really felt a strong connection to go
further with any of the guys.

I followed the GPS' route up the Parkway, heading north toward Sandy Hook and
Gunnison Beach. Passing Barnegat, Toms River and a few other towns, I finally
saw my exit for Route 36. I took it, following it all the way to Ocean
Boulevard. Beyond a row of businesses and houses, I could see the ocean
glistening, beckoning for a dip.

Finally, I pulled up to the park. The wait wasn't terrible since it was the
middle of the week; there were two cars ahead of me paying the admission price
to enter. Finally, I pulled up and handed the ranger a crisp bill.  He nodded
and smiled, motioning me to enter.

The park was nothing like I'd imagined it.  Surrounded by scrub pines, tall
grasses and holly bushes, the side of the road looked more like an untouched
nature preserve than a busy beach.  The trail up the proverbial "hook" was a
gorgeous drive, and I took it all in.

Finally, after several minutes, I saw the large wooden signs indicating where
to park for Gunnison Beach.  I followed them to a sandy lot, about half filled
with all types of cars. Sporty convertibles, rugged pick-ups, minivans and
motorcycles filled many of the rows. I took a spot in one of the middle rows
and opened my door, inhaling the briny breeze that greeted me.

Bag in-hand, I made my trek across the lot toward the trail. It crossed a
small bog and a forested area. In the thicket, birds chirped and squirrels
dashed from log to log, gathering food. The worn wood boards creaked with each
step. Then, a moment or two later, I crossed the access road and found myself
entering the beach area. In the distance, sunbathers and swimmers were
visible.

There wasn't any point wearing my flip flops at this point; they sandwiched
piles of sand between the shoe and my foot, making it hard to walk and kicking
up clouds of debris. I slipped them off and tucked them into my bag,
continuing my journey toward the water.

As the beachgoers grew closer, their nude bodies were unmistakable. The first
that came into view was a middle-aged woman, her hair neatly tied back. She
wore nothing as she plodded around the beach, smiling and talking to passerby.
She smiled in my direction, and I returned with a nod. The first section was
mixed with many women, but the further into the crowd I wandered, the more men
I began seeing.

Finally, at the edge of the group and near a small dune, I placed my bag on
the ground and surveyed the landscape. There was an older man sleeping in a
chair not far from my spot, and to my left, a younger male couple were laying
on their front sides, their perfectly tan, round bottoms in plain sight. A few
other men were spread out between me and the ocean, but it was far from
crowded.

Fishing through my bag, I pulled out the towel and spread it on the sand. It
provided some relief from the already warm earth. Next, I plopped my sun block
on the towel and peeled off my shirt, tucking it away in the bag. My goal was
to keep as much sand out of the bag as possible, though it was clear that I
was fighting a losing battle.

Wearing only my board shorts, I started lathering up my face, arms, torso and
legs with the lotion. The excitement was building; I'd never been nude in a
public place, save for the occasional gym shower, and butterflies filled my
chest. For now, I'd remain modest, hoping that the sun's warm rays would
encourage me to take the plunge.

Reading for a few minutes, I quickly grew bored thinking about my teenage
fantasies of visiting the nude beach.  I compromised; first, I'd take a walk
down to the water's edge in my suit.  Then, when I came back, I'd shuck it and
go natural.  It was settled.

The walk down to the water felt like it took forever.  When I finally reached
the surf, the cool water enveloped my ankles, making me cringe.  Being
relatively early in the season, the water hadn't yet had a chance to warm up.
It certainly wasn't like California's warm beaches, but it wasn't dangerously
chilly either. I stepped in a few feet, letting the water lap at the bottom of
my shorts.  For a few minutes I stood there, gazing over the ocean and looking
toward the big city of New York.  It was surreal; finally, I was here.

When my legs couldn't take it anymore, I headed back toward my towel.  The
crowd remained unchanged; one of the guys in the couple to my left had turned
over, revealing a 5-inch cut cock and a lightly furry chest. He was beautiful,
glistening there in the sun in all his glory.

Finally, sitting back on my towel, I realized that it was time.  I stood back
up, slowly, and took a swig of water. After a deep breath, I reached down and
tugged on the drawstrings of the board shorts, undoing the loose knot easily.
The strings came apart quickly, leaving the elastic alone to protect my
modesty. Slowly, I hooked a thumb under the waistband on either side, letting
my short nails scratch against my skin. Breathing deeply, I began pushing my
arms straight down, taking my brown board shorts with them. The very top of my
pubes came into view, experiencing daylight for the first time. My hidden skin
was paler than I imagined it would be, creating a striking contrast against my
tanned chest.

I pushed further until my entire butt was exposed. Still, only my pubes and
the very base of my cock were visible. Then, with one last breath, I made
another tug and revealed most of my shaft, leaving only my cock head hidden.
With one final thrust, the shorts tumbled to the ground, leaving me entirely,
completely and fully nude for all to see.

The stripping felt like it took hours, but in reality, was over in just a few
seconds. No one seemed to notice, though one man about ten yards away had been
watching intently in my direction from behind his sunglasses. He smiled before
turning his graying head back toward the sea.

Shorts off, I tucked the unnecessary garment into my bag and lay myself down
on the towel, sunning my backside first. It felt liberating to finally be nude
on the beach, and I enjoyed it immensely.

I picked up my book, a renewed sense of interest, and read for a few minutes.
Wanting to soak it all in, I then turned over, revealing my full self. I
didn't stop reading as I twisted, enjoying how natural the experience felt.
For the first time since seeing the nude woman at the entrance to the beach, I
smiled.

This went on for a good 45 minutes or so.  A goofy grin over my face, I read
my book and took in the rays. It was pure bliss, and I couldn't have asked for
a better vacation. It seemed that naturism suited me quite nicely.

At one point, a shadow creeped over my face, blocking out the sunlight over
the upper half of my body.  I turned and saw a young man, about 18, next to
me. He wore large sunglasses and a pair of navy-colored trunks, lacking a
shirt to cover his thin chest and stomach. His short brown hair was spiky like
mine, fashioned into a short faux-hawk, and he had delicate features. His
hands at his hips, a huge smile stretched across his face from ear to ear. The
light glistened off of his straight, pearly teeth.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Boyd," he said, grinning all the while, tsking
his tongue.  "And to think, I came to the beach expecting to see a lot of
naked strangers.  Who knew I'd find my literature teacher sunning himself
instead?"

Horrified, I recognized the voice.  His name was Chase Flanagan, and true to
his word, he had been one of my students from last semester. My mouth agape,
he sat down next to me uninvited, burying his bottom in the sand, still
bearing that grin. Stretching his legs and bare feet as far as they could go,
he dug his palms into the sand and leaned back. Arching his head first back
then quickly in my direction, he took in my whole body.

"I think vacation just got a heck of a lot more interesting for both of us,"
he said.


END OF PART 1.


What do you think so far?  Will Jake find this vacation as enjoyable as his
young student, Chase?  Or will he regret coming this far to fulfill his
teenage fantasy?  YOU have the power to shape this story-send your ideas,
suggestions and thoughts to GreenEyeGuySmut@yahoo.com!