Date: Wed, 3 Jul 2002 23:29:42 -0400 From: Jon Royale <JRoyale@msn.com> Subject: Beach Blanket Bang-o The following is a work of fiction depicting graphic sexual situations between consenting male adults. If you have not reached legal age permitting you to read such materials or if this theme is offensive to you, please read no further. For those of you who choose to stay around for my latest factually inspired tale, this writer hopes you enjoy it. He also welcomes your congratulatory emails, which work to inspire his sexually overactive imagination into guiding him through the words of his next story. For whatever it is worth, the writer maintains any legal copyright pertaining to this material and asks that it not be used monetarily without his express permission. Ask, he's easy. Copyright (c) 2002 JRoyale It's a fairly long stretch of secluded beach where I go to do my summer tanning. Completely hidden from the one-lane access road by tall, reed-covered dunes, the place is frequented early morning and late in the afternoon by fishermen. But at high noon there is practically nobody around, allowing for some private tanning. Not that I go nude, mind you, although the thought has crossed my mind at times. Although only a handful of stalwarts like myself utilize the unmaintained beachfront, you get the usual dog walkers or local kids taking a stroll, which tends to put somewhat of a damper on nude sunbathing. Actually I like to have a tan line, albeit a very small one. Unlike most guys I see on the more popular beaches further south in the touristy areas, I'm into wearing my black lycra bikini suit I picked up from one of those mail order catalogs. Not that I'm in bad shape or anything, but I get a little self-conscious wearing it on those other beaches since it seems I'm the only dude so inclined. Last time I wore it a buddy of mine told me people were going to think I was queer, so I reluctantly purchased one of those trendier trunks which hang down to the knees for the more-pubic beach excursions. But, whenever I get the chance, I slip that little bit of nothing over my groin and hang out on my desolate beach where I'm free to be me. It feels almost like I've got nothing on at all; I can even feel the heat of the sun penetrating the swatch of material and heating my gonads. And I know I look damned fine! Not a gym-buffed muscle freak, but I'm in pretty good shape with some decent musculature. Nice arms, curved pecs, flat belly and meaty thighs with a slim, twenty-eight inch waistline and solid, jutting glutes. Babes love to grab my ass in clubs; they say they can really get a handle on it. Even had the occasional bawdy broad grope my package on the dance floor, which is a handful in itself. That's another thing I like about my bikini; it perfectly frames my goods and pronounces them to their full effect. Anybody walking by me splayed out there in my reclining beach chair has more than an eyeful of all I've got to offer. My dark glasses are on most of the time, shielding my gaze as I observe the occasional passer-by. They all take a look; sun-bathers here are the oddity, after all. But there are some whose eyes linger longer than others, casting furtive, guilty glances at the bulge under my black bikini as they move along. None of them stop; not ever. Although there's a part of me that has always fancied a little sex on the beach, there's an even larger part which cherishes my private introspective moments languishing in the sun. Mostly I'm glad for the lack of social interaction here in my semi-private sanctuary. An added bonus this summer has been my lay-off a couple of weeks ago. The company has been going under for years due to major mismanagement so it came as little of a surprise when I got my walking papers. Rather than jump back into the daily grind, I decided to sit back for the summer, collect my unemployment checks and work on the tan to end all tans. Hell, I'm still young; only been out of college for six years, so I figured I might as well enjoy what's left of my youth while I can. With my buds toiling away at work all day it doesn't leave me much else to do but indulge in my favorite past time before the sun goes down and the night life begins. The nice bronzed look I'm working on is sure to help score me some decent pussy at the clubs we frequent like a bunch of hound dogs. Not to sound egotistical or anything, but I'm a rather good-looking dude in my own right and score more often than most of the dudes I hang out with. But it has been awhile since my last piece... Today's the perfect beach day: eighty-five degrees, no humidity, not a cloud in the sky and a nice breeze coming right off the ocean. Very few people out here today; the last one to walk by was over an hour ago. I have the tunes going on my portable CD player and I've just uncapped my third Corona from the six pack in the cooler I use to rest my outstretched feet upon. After taking a nice swig of the ice-cold beverage, I set it down beside me on the blanket covering my plot of sand and reach into the hidden recesses of my beach-bag for the joint I'd rolled earlier in the day. Just another perk of this uncharted beach is the absence of lifeguards or police to stop me from indulging in some of life's sweeter pleasures. Being the "cheap high" that I am, two hits off the marijuana cigarette is all I need to get me a nice buzz. Leaning back in the chair, I allow the sweet smoke to fill my lungs and whisk me away to a new plateau. I become comfortably numb in a matter of minutes and am feeling pretty much like King of Dunes, quite alone as I am in my private utopia. Flipping off my headphones and adjusting my seat back lower, I shut my eyes and lounge out like some kind of sun lizard taking in the drug-enhanced beach sounds. As the ocean water casually laps at the sandy shore line and seagulls cry out in the distance, I am transported in mind to a private tropical paradise where the sun's heated rays make scorching love to my exposed flesh---mercilessly beating me into complete submission. Inhaling deeply of the heady aroma created by the tanning oils spread all over my smooth skin, my subconscious thoughts turn to sex. Not completely sure why, but the scent of sun tan lotion always makes me think of unbridled, down and dirty, nasty sex! Allow me to explain the three things which always seem to happen to me when I get stoned at the beach. First, I am so mellowed out that I could lay there baking until the sun goes down, which is why I make sure I keep applying tanning lotions with their protective sunblock. It's enough of a mixture to keep el sol's harmful rays from penetrating my tender skin, but still allows me to tan to a nice Tahitian brown, giving a startling visual contrast when I peel that bikini off my buffed, athletic body. My big nipples become the color of mahogany while the list dusting of hairs on my arms and legs turns bleached blond. Even my natural chestnut "fade" lightens up quite a bit, giving it some blond highlights. Couple that visual with big blue eyes and a sparkling white Colgate smile and I make for a hot-looking macho stud! Here I go wandering again! That's not one of the Big Three Buzz Effects I was mentioning earlier, but it sure is a "side effect"---my propensity for rambling on when I've toked a little. Anyway, the second thing which always strikes me when I smoke a bone under the sun is an elevated, unquenchable thirst. Most of my buds get the munchies; I get the thirsties, hence the Cool One right at my predominant left hand. Not really much of a drinker, but I could down an entire six pack in an hour when I'm in my present condition. Smart guys that I am, I also carry spring water singles in my cooler so I don't get too fucked up on beers and have to sleep it off in my 4X4. And another advantage to having the beach to myself is the luxury of hauling out my dick and taking a piss whenever I want, without having to traipse to some pissy-smelling public john. The third and final event which drives me to distraction in my present condition is--- well, there's no other way to say this than to just come out with it--- I get insatiably horny! Maybe it's the sexual thrill of being so brazen in a public place, the marijuana breaking down my remaining inhibitions and allowing me to succumb to my lusty bodily desires. Presently I'm slumped back at a ninety degree angle, eyes shut against the blazing sun as trickles of perspiration cascade down my forehead. My legs are widespread in front of me, one lazily resting on the lid of the cooler while the other angles down to the blanket, the outside of my foot digging into the sand below it. I'm pretty much molded into the canvas of the seat, my butt very near the edge and my pelvis thrust upward invitingly. My left arm comes alive, crosses over my prone body and I cup the strong, opposite shoulder in my large hand. That very first touch of my hot skin causes another type of heat to radiate throughout my ample groin. My hand traverses down the length of that upper arm, squeezing the swell of solid bicep muscle. A thick thumb absently grazes one juicy, pink nipple, causing a wave of pleasure to penetrate my entire chest area. Guiding my hand over my smooth, hairless chest and riding the mounds of ample pectorals, I feel the muscles tensing under slick, macho skin. With the right hand finally getting into the action, I work both nipples between thumb and index finger, teasing them into hard knots. The more swollen they get the harder I tweak, forcing the rest of my body to respond. My rounded ass melons are writhing around in the sweat-soaked canvas seat and I can feel the hot blood rushing into my penis, causing it to fill out the pouch of my little bikini suit. When the thumb of each hand meets in my pec cleavage, both hands take a leisurely finger-dive down the expanse of my torso, riding the peeks and valleys of each pronounced abdominal muscle until those thumbs hook into the top of my briefs. One hand wanders lower, caressing the inside of a tight thigh while the other covers the protrusion blatantly throbbing within black lycra. My erection burns up to the right side, the sensitive mushroomed head of the eight-inch viper threatening to pop out at my hip. My left palm caresses the length of my imprisoned shaft molded by the telling lycra material while I resume playing with my left man-tit. If not for my curiosity as to why the female conquests in my life respond so strongly to tit manipulations I would never have known the electrifying thrills my own tits bring. Those puppies have been worked up to near pinkie-tip thickness over the course of my horny years. There must be a direct pleasure line between my nips and my groin, because I feel a wicked warmth there whenever I toy with them. The bitch of it all is that they stay hard as a rock for days afterward and every time the material of my starched shirt rubs against them at work I have to excuse myself to the john to beat my hard-on back down---unless, of course, there is a set of lipsticked lips around to help me out. Which there often times is. But now the job is gone and I'm alone here, stoned off my ass and splayed out like some sex crazed Tom Hank's Castaway in the blazing sun manhandling myself. Opening my eyes a slit to observe my tumultuous bulge I detect a spot of pre-cum darkening the front side of my bikini. Preparing to release my awakened monster and give him a handful of what he really wants, I wisely glance to the left and ascertain that the coast is clear. But a turn to the right registers great disappointment. In the distance, leisurely but purposefully strolling along the water's edge with some sort of bundle under his arm is the form of a stranger. "FUCK!" I mutter aloud, sexed up beyond belief with a throbber that won't go down and nipples proudly poking up and out from my pecs. The closer he gets, the more I panic. It won't take much to spot the huge swelling practically lunging out of that bit of beachwear. I try like hell to inconspicuously reposition myself, but all attempts are futile. Any sudden movement to avoid the oncoming situation would make my predicament obvious---and just might result in accidentally forcing my cock into the open. That big thing wants to release a load of cum NOW!! Whether it is the hot afternoon sun, nervousness, or THC-induced paranoia, I am perspiring like a sonofabitch and my heart is racing wildly. Why won't this intruder tire of his stroll, turn around and avoid the potential confrontation? As much as I will him away so that I can get on with my personal business, onward he comes. At closer range I am able to ascertain, through my dark sunglasses, that he is an older dude---perhaps somewhere around my father's age---and I've never noticed him here before. He has fairly thick, dark hair speckled throughout with random streaks of gray---shorter on the sides and fuller on top---and a matching mustache. All he is wearing is what looks to be a pair of burgundy-colored sweat pants crudely cut off right at the kneecaps and hanging fairly low on his hips. The guy has a meaty kind of musculature, not pumped and pronounced like it probably was in his younger days but still very impressive for an older guy. A thick dusting of chest hair covers his pectoral swells and runs in haphazard fashion down the center of his torso, surrounding the indentation of his deep navel before fanning out under the waistband of those makeshift shorts. His strong calves are also defined by dark, manly body hair. Secretly scoping him out as he draws nearer, I'm reminded of the cowboy in those old cigarette commercials I sometimes see replayed on that retro cable television channel. I can see myself looking more like this stud (when I get to be his age) than my old man, who is in no where near as good of shape. He is passing by right in front of me now---and I do mean right in front me! This section of beach between dunes and water isn't all that wide---a distance of perhaps twenty feet---and he's positioned right between the scope of my spread-eagled thighs! If he is to look over right now he's got a bird's eye view of the horny beast throbbing against the covering of my bikini. I consider covering it with my hands or tossing a towel down there, but before I can decide upon an emergency course of action I see that he is continuing on down the beach. Breathing a sigh of relief, I allow the pot to relax my body and close my eyes, thankful to have averted such an embarrassingly close call. "Come here often?" The deep, masculine voice startles me and I practically jump out of my skin as my eyes shoot wide open to see the same man standing not more than arm's length to my right side. My big cock has softened a little, but it is still clearly outlined under the black lycra. I realize there is little point in attempting to hide my obvious state of arousal now. "Uh---yeah," I stammer, my tongue heavy from the intoxicating marijuana. "You?" "First time," he admits and, looking down the expanse of beach where I thought he'd been headed, adds, "Really private here." I try to offer a little smile, but my jaw is pleasantly numb. "That's what I like about it." It is a hint, but my meaning appears lost on the bigger dude who is now looking off into the ocean and absently scratching one hairy pec. Behind my dark glasses I observe the wedding band on his finger---and the big, swollen man tits nestled in the mat of chest hair which appear to be even thicker than my own dark buds. "Mind if I sit awhile," he asks. Before I have a chance to answer, the stud has unraveled the bamboo mat he's been carrying under his big arm and is spreading it out right alongside me. He stretches his hunky body out on the uncomfortable looking thing, resting on his side and propped up on one elbow facing me. Not sure how to handle this brazen, unwelcome intrusion I reach for my Corona and take a swig of the piss-warm liquid. My sudden movement unexpectedly forces my thighs open a bit further and momentarily thrusts my full crotch outward before I rebound and reposition my right leg higher on the cooler to obstruct his view. But he's already given me the once over, his gaze having rested a moment too long on my dead-giveaway groin. Oh, shit, I'm snagged! "Nice bathing suit," is all he says. "Where'd you get it?" "M-mail order catalog," I stammer. "Look, dude...." But he cuts me right off before I can offer an explanation for my obviously aroused state. "I should get me one of them, although I don't know if there's enough cloth there to hold me in." His eyes are now fixed on my lower extremities, making me nervous, suspicious and curiously excited all at the same time. Not sure if his last statement is a macho form of bragging or if he is insulting my own manhood, I try to come up with some retort. "Lycra stretches to accommodate all types. And besides, the idea is to get as much of yourself tanned as you legally can. Which I can pretty much do on this beach without being hassled." I know I sounded a little pissed off, but this guy must be thick-skulled or something because he isn't taking a hint. Instead, he rises to his feet and begins rolling the legs of his cut-offs up to expose meaty, muscular thighs dusted with dark hair. "This does the same thing...so long as nothing falls out, which would be mighty embarrassing." He paused, seemingly for effect, and then muttered under his breath---but loud enough that I could hear, "Or an opportunity." I swallow hard and try to sit up in my chair as certain realities begin to pierce my stoned mind. "Whoa, dude, you got things all wrong. I'm into pussy." "And I'm a married man with all the pussy I want and two sons just about your age," he said, suddenly leaning down to cover the pouch of my bathing suit and squeeze my burning hard-on in the palm of his big hand. Instinctively I grab hold of his thick wrist and my body visibly jumps in the beach chair, taken aback by the man's forwardness. Although I am startled, my cock has quite the opposite reaction. It instantaneously responds to the stranger's touch by swelling back up to its full eight erect inches, the rush of blood making it throb madly in his grasp. "We both need it," he breathed huskily, his other hand pressing down on my chest as if to hold me in place. Had I not been stoned off my ass, my reaction might have been entirely different. But the heat, the pot and the beer all worked in unison to drive away my inhibitions and allow myself to succumb to another man's sexual touch. I am still holding onto his wrist, but doing nothing to thwart him from manhandling my big throbber. Never before have I had a guy touch me like this, although there have been those that have tried---especially in college. Like I said before, I've always been a sweet looking hunk of eye candy as well as an active jock throughout high school and on into my college years. So I've managed, almost in spite of myself, to attract a following of admirers---some of them queer. Not that I mind the gay contingent: they are okay dudes, but I'm more attracted to tits and pussy. Certainly I've wondered what it would feel like to have a dude go down on me (although that's a confession I'd never make to my buddies), but it's always remained a casual curiosity. And now here I am allowing this self-professed married man to lay his hands on my macho, suntanned flesh. Even if I want to raise some kind of objection at this particular point (which I don't), I don't think I'd be able to anyway. That wicked weed responsible for getting me so hard and horny in the first place has left me with a serious case of "cotton mouth" and my tongue feels like it's swelling even large in the dry cavity of my mouth. I've released my hold on his wrist and want to reach down for the beer at my side, but my hands are like claws gripping the wooden handles of the chair for my very life. My entire body is rigid, not knowing what to expect or even how I should react. Although some part of my conscious mind wants to force my body up from the seat and flee the scene, a much stronger force powered by my big, young hard cock keeps me rooted to the spot. The chiseled older man gets down on his knees beside me, his strong, muscular arm bent at the elbow and resting on my quivering torso while the thick fingers of his hand toy with the sun-bleached treasure trail running from my deep navel into my bikini. The fat thumb of his cock-squeezing hand hooks under the hem of my swim suit, lifting it away from my prone body and allowing my stiff prick to escape the sweaty confines of black lycra. My blood engorged hog bounds out from captivity, slapping heavily against his other hand and stretching up past my indented navel. He wraps the hairy-knuckled fingers of that hand around my thickness and begins pumping me while his other hand digs down into my bikini and hefts my sweaty ball bag. Lightly squeezing those twin orbs in his big man's palm, the stranger works the bloated length of my shaft from base to cockhead. Zombified in that beach chair and dumbfounded at the turn of events, I watch mesmerized as he manipulates my healthy meat. Sure feels good to have somebody's hands other than my own jerking my lonely piece of beef. The rough calluses on his working man's hand are an entirely new sensation to me and, before I can stop myself, I've moaned my pleasure when he rides those toughened scabs along the sensitive underside of my thick vein. The heavy muscles in his arm flex as he feverishly massages every inch of my rigid beefstick. Leaning in, he spits a healthy dose of warm saliva onto my throbbing cock and into the palm of his masturbating hand, allowing for a slicker finger ride. His big-knuckled, enclosed fist is jerking fairly rapidly, causing waves of tingling heat to radiate throughout my groin. A healthy wave of pre-cum surges from my deep piss slit and oozes onto my flat, tanned belly. The big, older stud scoops up the stray goo with two thick fingers and brings them up to his parted lips. Breathlessly I watch him lap around and between his digits, tasting my semen before he devours them to the second knuckle and noisily cleans off my warm, young cum. Barely aware of my slack-jawed countenance, he unhands my nuts and grasps my throbbing shaft at the base, tightly squeezing up the eight inches of my club and releasing more tasty pre-cum onto the finger he holds at my draining slash. Again his fingers disappear between mustached lips, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows my jizz. He has resumed jerking my stalk, but still his fingers glide over my cock head and dip into my piss slit, searching for more pearly cum drops. My hunky, athletic body is relaxed into the contours of the beach chair, having long ago given acceptance to this married man's boldly erotic manipulations. I swear from the determined look on his ruggedly handsome face that the fucker is enjoying pleasuring me every bit as much as I enjoy being so expertly pleasured. And I believe I've become much like putty in his hands when he reaches up and latches onto one of my perky, swollen nipples and starts rolling it between two calloused fingers. My sweat-slicked head instantaneously shoots back against the seat and my whole body starts moving like a squirming snake on hot asphalt. I should have known he was a nipple man from the appreciative hard-ons that poke their blunt tips out from his mat of pec hair. Some deep desire wants to bash my self-imposed taboos and grab onto one or both of this guy's tit-meat and roughly fondle them. Biting my thick lower lip, my eyebrows furrow as I wince not from pain but from excruciating pleasure as this hairy daddy tweaks and pulls on my thick blunt nubs while he continues to flog my fully-erect cockmeat. And then, just when I don't think the stud can excite me any further, somehow he's anticipated another wave of pre-cum and his face is down there in my crotch, the tip of his tongue stabbing into my cock hole and coaxing out more ball juice. His sloppy, wet tongue washes over the slick surface of my bloated mushroomed head, licking up every trace of salty juice. His big fist keeps pumping my shaft while his hot mouth works the crown. Curling around the rim of my cockhead he tongues those nicely sensitive membranes on the underside of my dick just below the head. Bucking my hips up against him, I begin pumping my helmet between his parted lips. He takes me in his mouth, wrapping his wet lips around the flanged rim and starts sucking on my mushroom like it is a sweet, tasty ice-cream cone. The hot fuck is yanking my tit, jerking my rod and sucking my knob---and looking up over the muscled curves of my body right into my eyes, searching for my reaction to his delightful machinations. Guess the buzz is starting to wear off, as it suddenly dawns on me that I'm still sporting those mirrored sunglasses---which means that he's actually enjoying the show, watching himself suck me off from the reflective lenses. As for me, I'm feeling real fuckin' good and kind of like watching the show myself. My crimson cock is rock hard, big veins beating wildly beneath its silken surface. The married cocksucker is making all kinds of sloshy, slurping sounds louder than the ocean water lapping against the shore line. Taking a quick look around, I make certain we are still enjoying a private interlude without the threat of unexpected---and unwanted---passers-by. Way off in the distance to my far right I can see two fishermen tossing their lines into the surf, but they are far enough away as not to pose any kind of threat. Besides, in some perversely voyeuristic way, the idea of interlopers being in the general vicinity where I'm getting my cock serviced is turning me on almost as much as the expert slurper going down on my big pole. This dude is damned good! And when he opens wide and swallows me straight down to the short curly hairs, I'm forced to rephrase my analysis: he is GREAT!!! I feel, rather than hear, my deep groan of satisfaction as he deep throats me. With my fat head lodged way down somewhere near the base of his throat, my thick shaft throbs inside him while the dude's lips plant little kisses against my hairy root. The bristled edges of his thick mustache tickle my scrotum while his hands get busy running up and under my tight, athletic thighs. His head starts bobbing up and down on me, fucking me with his mouth. I never leave his throat---he is doing me deep and nasty, brutally twisting my ball sac now and probing around my sweaty ass trench. This older guy has me hotter than any of the many pussy-bitches I've had; I realize that, for the first time in my life, another man has brought me to the point of no return, somewhere beyond the brink of depraved lust. I have no reservations about lacing the fingers of both hands together behind his head, holding the dude in place while I stab my cock into his gaping throat. He is a real dick-pig, never once coming up for air while I use his face like a deep, wet cunt. I rut against the stud with little regard for his safety, my engulfed cock controlling my conscious actions. When he finally does comes up off me, my spit-polished pecker is dripping wet and pulsing like I've never seen it do before. Grunting and groaning, the middle-aged stud laps his slobber from the surface of my shaft with a long, thirsty dog-tongue. Every now and then he buries my cock-head in his mouth and greedily sucks on it. His hands get it on the action---one of them jerking my shaft with small, quick turns of his strong wrist; the other busily works inside his cut-offs. I'm sure there's lots of guys have jerked off thinking about me before, but this straight cocksucker is an entirely different species. The fucker even manages to let go of my cock long enough to grab hold of my piss-warm Corona, pour the remaining third of the bottle all over my beating shaft and have himself a cock-brew. He laps the beer from my dick, follow stray trickles down over my swollen ballbag and chases the flow down into that most secret of places separating balls from shithole. I decide I can't take much more of this shit---I've got to fucking get off NOW!!! The experience is overwhelming and I feel like I'm having one of those out-of-body experiences, looking down on my heaving, sweaty (not to mention, REALLY hunky) body. [Got the visual, Dear Reader? Just checking.] I feel like an out-of-control raging locomotive on some sort of disastrous collision course. I feel like an illustrator's caricature in a cartoon with my heart rising out of my chest to each thumping beat, ridiculously stretching my elastic skin with each upheaval, but reducing to its usual tautness as it settles back in my chest. [And what cartoon are you thinking of? Ally McBeal doesn't count.] I feel like every ultra-sensitive nerve---and I do mean EVERY one---has risen to the surface of my skin and stand raw, naked and exposed. [Care to touch me NOW?] I feel blood rushing through my ears, pounding at my temples and hotly surging through every artery in my athletic young man's body. I feel all my corded muscles tighten, barely conscious of the fact that I'm gyrating like some kind of slippery eel, unintentionally fucking my out-of-control cock up into his hot, mustached mouth. I hear trumpets, horns, drums, sirens.... [DISCO!?!?! I MUST be having a buzz-back.] Grabbing hold of one swollen teat, I brutally twist the meaty fucker with the pads of three fingers, making my body spasm even more violently. Vaguely it flashes before me that I haven't scoped out our surroundings in awhile but---FUCK IT!!!---right now I don't care if the Local Boy Scout Troup is taking a tour along the beach! Instead, I wrestle my cock out of his grasp and start jerking myself into oblivion!! But he will have none of this! The bigger man places a surprisingly strong hand over my own and, not without some effort, halts my selfless actions. The big calloused, hairy-knuckled hand practically covers my own heavily-tendoned fist and suddenly I'm like a race horse halted in full gait. And, like some kind of filly, I whimper with my lower lip quivering. "Not yet, son," he speaks deep and gruff. "I'd like you to---NO, I NEED YOU TO---FUCK MY MANHOLE!" There is no need for questions or reason for debate. Can't really say how or why it has happened, but we are up in the near-privacy of the hilly, grass-covered dunes atop my spread blanket. He has lost his shorts and I see that the dude has an average-sized cock, maybe six inches, but the fucker is thick and sports a plum-sized, flared head which is leaking a healthy stream of pre-cum all over his torso. He is on his big, broad back with thick, hairy legs pulled in towards his chest and spread widely apart, exposing his man ditch. My eyes do a quick little bug-out when I see the flesh-colored knob of a butt plug poking out from the darker hairs framing his asshole. The thought of this bi, married dude walking around the beach with a plug up his ass makes my fat cock do an excited little anticipatory jump. I reach down to grab hold of the warm butt plug and roughly yank it from his man hole. The stud wails deeply. His hole is gaping widely open, the lips of his ass fluttering out as they search for something to cling on to. "Come on, big boy, fuck my ass!" he growls real deep and macho. I belly up to the stud, whose calloused hands are spreading his ass cheeks wide, and watch the deep, hairy hole wink at me. Fisting my thick cock, I position my fat drooling head against his rubbery, wrinkled folds of ass flesh and push. Aided by whatever goop he's used to slide that plug in there, my bloated glans slips easily into his murky hole. Those wet, spasming ass lips lock under the rim of my flanged head, the wiry dark hairs around his hole tickling my vein-covered shaft. My breath catches in my throat as I feel pleasurable waves of manly warmth wash over my invading mushroom. I begin to fuck his hole, just using my cockhead. It bobs in and out of his yawning ass mouth, teasing the fuck out of him....and myself. Little by little, I wedge more and more of my thick throbber into his wide-spread ass-mouth. I am so damned horny and it feels so wet and velvety warm inside him---almost like a tight, juicy pussy---that I lose my self-restraint and thrust against him, burying every inch deep inside his hot, clenching hole as the older stud growls beneath me. My hot, sweaty muscles are pumped to the max as I began pounding my slick cock in and out of his hot, tight manhole. His own rock hard chubby is slapping up against his lower belly and dripping spoonfuls of thick pre-cum. It feels even better than his exquisite throat being embedded in his hot, wet asshole. His stretched asslips cling to the surface of my engorged shaft, obscenely distended at the outstroke and crudely tickled by my wiry crotch hairs when I roar back in. I'm fucking him long, hard and fast, my big cock momentarily pausing when it's buried balls deep and deliberately flexing somewhere deep inside of him. The late afternoon sun is beating heavily on the broad expanse of my exposed back and dimpled asscheeks. Sweat rains down my flanks, over my thighs and trickles through the crack of my tight ass. The dude is all sweated up, too. Our bodies sounds like those waves in the distance as they smack together with each cock-banging impact. Up to this point, I've had no experience in "back dooring" but this horny fucker is turning me into a rectum recruit. I try to forget that it's almost like a pumped-up version of my own father lying there beneath me with my dick up his ass. The lust-crazed eyes in his weathered, yet ruggedly handsome face are intently fixed on my own. Unflinching, I meet his gaze, easily gauging his reaction as I continually pump my manhood into his sloppy guts. Each time I reach rock bottom, my fat cock head embedded way up inside him, those eyelids flutter to half mast and the eyes dreamily roll up in their sockets. And when I pull my plunging piece back, his look turns to pleading---silently begging me for more. And I give it to him. Time and time again---an unrelenting barrage of deep, powerful cock thrusts rearrange his insides. The heavy vein under my plunging shaft glides against the ridged ripples of his ass walls, kind of like some erotic inner tickler. His tight, lusty man chute grips me as I pull mostly all the way out, then storm back in; over and over, hammering away at his prostate. This tough stud is like a bitch in heat with my cock twitching up a storm inside him, bringing jolts of pleasure to both him and me. My hands are on the inside of his tight, hairy thighs, holding the big man's legs wide open. Roughly I knead the pink flesh in a way I would never treat a lady, turning it into a deep shade of pink and quite enjoying its muscularity. Each time I deep dick him the stud snorts like a pig, making me want to keep slamming into his guts until I hear him squeal like one. His big working man's hands are all over my torso, gliding across my sweaty muscles and riding the swell of my twitching pecs. He works my three-quarter inch, fat nipples like they are little dicks standing out and proud. I ram my meat home, my big prick practically a blur as it plunges full-length in and out of his fiery hole. Over the tall crab grass on the dunes, I can see a young couple strolling hand in hand past my beach spot. It they decide to steal my shit, they can very well have it---I'm not about to give up my hot piece of ass now. The tempo of my fucking doesn't alter one bit. I'm fairly certain they can't see what we are up to here in the valley of the raggedy dunes, but I keep my eye on them until they've passed. A few more fishermen are scattered along the beach now, but only one is within any kind of proximity of my vacated beachfront. Hands slap roughly against my meaty pecs, dragging my attention back to the straight man-stud taking my cock like a practiced queer. Once again grasping my painfully erect pec protrusions in his sweaty fingers, the hairy-chested stud works my nips almost as hard as I am working his grasping manhole. He pinches and tweaks and pulls while I thrust and pound and screw, knowing that I can't possibly last much longer. Sure enough, its takes just the right roll of a sensitive, swollen nipple combined with the tight, loving flex of his battered inner ass muscles to send me right over the edge. He can read from the grimace on my face and the convulsing of my hard body that my orgasm is imminent. The big fuck starts bucking his ass up against me, egging me on---daring me to flood his straight asshole with my thick ball juice. And the nasty fucker is about to get exactly what he wants! My young, muscular body shudders from the intense heat searing through my entire being as I roar toward an explosive crescendo. My rigid nipples are ridiculously punched out from the smooth mounds of my pecs, pulsing and throbbing as if they were a twin set of aroused hard-ons ready to blow their own steaming load. I slam my battering ram far up in him and my cock head swells even larger. Cum bursts out of me, scouring his insides---more cum that I've ever thought one set of heated balls could produce. Don't even remember shooting so hard, or for so long, ever before. All I know is that by the time I'm finally finished blowing my nut, my cock is swimming in the virtual sea of semen flooding his shit chute. From the instant I felt the first chugging in my loins, my head has been back and my eyes have been fixed on the beautiful blue, cloudless sky. I know I was shouting---he was shouting, too---but I didn't realize all those constrictions of his hot ass as it milked the juice out of my cock were because he was cumming, too. I must have a dumbass, awestruck look on my face when I see all the steamy jizz coating his chest from navel to shoulder and dripping off the still-hard head of his manprick. He has a completely satiated look on his burly face and just can't seem to unhand me. He's still feeling all over the sweaty contours of my heaving chest and up along the pronounced bulges of my biceps and shoulders. Every time he touches a sensitive nipple, my cock flexes deep inside him, giving the dude a look of sheer rapture. Afterward, I feel awfully weak, as if I'd just run a marathon or something equally strenuous. And my nuts, the insides of my cock shaft and even the lips of my pisser pleasurably hurt from the thunderous explosion of my best-ever orgasm. To think that it took another guy---an older, bi, married one, at that---to bring me off like this!!! I wonder if any of my buds have ever experienced this ultimate pleasure and are just too embarrassed to mention their "gay" assignation---just as I know I will be. He hands me his card and tells me to call him sometime---anytime---on his private line if I want more of the same and then asks me if I've even gotten off just by having someone eat my asshole. I allow that I haven't, but the thought (or is it a hint of things to come) lingers for more than a moment in my head. As he slips back into his shorts I notice that it is a business card he has handed me---a private construction company---with this man's name and telephone number embossed in the lower corner. With crook'd brow, I give the big macho, construction foreman the once over---and shock myself by asking if he's hiring anytime soon. He tells me there's no need for me to complete the standard application.... Before we've taken a dip in the ocean together and he's sauntered off down the beach in the direction from which he'd come, and before I'm settled back in my beach chair, black bikini clinging to my hips and a self-satisfied smile playing across my lips, I tell him I'll get back to him--- for one reason or another....