I looked over at him in the half dark. I could see the gentle rise and fall of that broad chest and saw where the spurts of cum that had shot out of us both earlier were now gleaming dried long streaks on his skin.
There was the salty smell of semen but also the sweet fragrance that was him, coconut maybe, or vanilla.
I ran my fingers through the thick curly mat of hair on my chest, still damp and matted and salty, from when he had abruptly pulled out of me and shouted out and squirted his hot jizz straight towards my face. Not all of it had reached my mouth.
I could make out the calm beauty of his sleeping face in the half-light. If I had looked lower I would have seen the thick jutting of his resting penis in its dark nest. But I was content just to look at him. For the moment. I anticipated the dawn and how we would turn to one another, ready for another bout.
I sighed and lay back, smiling in the dark, wondering how I had got to be here, in bed with a beautiful young man, who would still be there when the sun came up over the bay.
How had this happened?
I took my vacation that year to the beach, as usual. A big wonderful wide beach, where the kids surfed. I had rented a cabin, nothing special, but comfortable and secluded and sunny. I was alone.
Mostly I just cooked steak or lobster or eggplant and drank beer, usually practically in the nude. If there had been anybody there to see my body they would have approved. I’ve got a muscled body still, tight stomach, broad chest, a spread of curly hair all over my front (and on my shoulders too) and a bulge between my legs I cannot hide. It is just the way I look.
I am a military man, past thirty, nearer thirty-five, based at a well-known camp.
When I was young and in uniform I was a real looker. Senior military figures with a secret taste for the kinky took an interest in me. Treated me well in return for favours.
Faggy photographers wanted to take photos of me and put me into exhibitions, always with my top off, and sometimes with my ass bare too. Or half in and half out of my uniform.
I’ve had my share of enlisted men, but always discreetly, keeping secrets, not bearing any grudges. A fuck’s a fuck, not a marriage.
At the camp my best buddy is Frank. His wife has left him for another woman, so he has had to move out of the married quarters, and is pretty damned depressed. One of his ways of coping with life changes is to come round to my quarters with a box of beer and a sense of humour.
We are not a couple, let’s get that one straight, but once in a while we watch porn and jerk off side by side on the sofa. Not always straight porn either. We both like a little bukkake. Frank once got that word wrong in company when he meant karaoke.
I’ve been married too, but we do not need to talk much about that now. I am basically single, apart from the occasional hookups in darkened parks or in alleys late at night away from the base. Mostly that is with guys, ones I have never seen before and will never see again, and occasionally I go home with lonely MILFS I find in beer halls, but that does not make me straight either, tho they sure like my cock and want to book a repeat appointment.
So here I am on vacation by the sea, mostly by myself, as usual, and a lot of the time I go down to the beach and watch the people there, drink beer, pick up some fresh seafood, see youngsters having a good time and showing off their bodies, carefree.
It is the sort of beach where they have a lifeguard and an old sign that says we should not talk to him when he is on duty. These days the lifeguard is sometimes a girl I have noticed, but a girl who looks like she could still save a big burly guy like me from the waves.
One morning when the beach was quiet, just too early for the usual crowd, I notice it was the blond boy who was on duty.
He looked like one of those photos out of an old magazine or an old movie, what you imagine an American lifeguard might look like, and if you are a normal gay teenager at home with your folks you might jerk off over the picture. Or a lonely old man at home, like me.
Obviously he was tanned and sun-bleached and muscled and his red top had a zipper which was right down so you could easily see his front had a good growth of young blond hair too from neck to the waist band of his trunks. He had a bulge, of course he did, and it looked like a big one.
Morning sir, he said, as I strolled by casually. Polite boy talking to an old man on the beach by himself. He probably thought I was a pervert.
He reminded me of somebody and I laughed when I realised it was myself when young. I had been that kind of muscled jock, a swimming champ even, before I joined up. I wonder if he fucked girls round the back of the seafood shacks and in the dunes just like I had. Or was he was fucking boys as I had yearned to do myself?
He made some remark about the weather and smiled, showing off the sort of teeth that it now cost me a lot of dollars to have.
If I had had a camera I would have gone all faggy and asked to take a photo of him and try and sell it to one of those magazines that had starred me all those years back. I could pretend I was an artist. I could get him drunk at the beach bar and stick my hand down his trunks in the dark. And he would pass out on the sand I would suck his cock. And his jizz would be plentiful and sweet and hot.
I was getting aroused in my deck shorts, not a bad erection for an old man, and plenty of room to disguise my hard-on, if I wanted to do that of course and not just show off to a twenty year old boy with a muscled hairy chest and a bulging unaroused dick.
I kept on walking on the sand with a smile on my face. Then pretty soon a hairy sort of dog ran up to me and got friendly and I looked around and saw the lifeguard was now talking to a tall dark guy, and the new guy turned around and whistled at the dog, and it stopped jumping on me and trying to lick me, and ran back to his master.
The new guy looked like he might be from Hawaii or something. He had floppy black hair and one of those bright coloured retro shirts, all unbuttoned down his front, so I could see the tanned muscles. He kinda lifted his hand and waved, acknowledging the dog who was now between us, but looking back to see me too.
He whistled again and the dog raced back. I waved back.
They made quite a nice couple those two, one so fair and one so dark. I could hear the sound of their laughter as I walked away on the beach. I wondered if they had fucked all night? Girls or boys? Each other? Lucky boys anyway if they had, whoever they had fucked.
Or maybe they were saying fuck, look at that hot Daddy with his tan and his sky blue eyes and his hairy body and a big fuck of a boner to die for standing out of his shorts? Give me some of that DILF, they were saying. Ha ha.
I got back to my cabin and stood on the balcony and ate my breakfast. I could just about make out the lifeguard station. It was only the blond one there now – his hair and the bright red top stood out. The beach was busier now.
I had a bit of a boner still. That was healthy. I was pleased with myself. Maybe it was the sea air. Maybe it was the shellfish. Maybe it was just the hot boys. Maybe there was life in the old dick yet.
I reminded myself how long it was since I had been laid.
I did not include the side by side by sofa jerk off with Frank in that tally. Fuck I knew that fella’s dick just about as well as my own. He was an old faithful. He usually shot twice and his cum was quite liquid. I spread a towel on the rug in front of him to save the mess. He would laugh as he shot as if the whole thing was funny.
Me, my cum was thick and it went right up in the air like a fancy fountain. I would shout every time. Jesus I reckoned Frank was the only guy in the world who really knew that. What a fuckin life, jerking with a buddy at my age.
I thought about those boys on the beach and what their cum might look like, what it might taste like, and fuck, I had a vision of me kneeling in front of them and me licking and sucking and them slapping their cockheads on me and them swearing and shooting all over my stubble.
I put down my coffee cup and went into the shower for my second jerk off that morning. The shower gel smelled good and felt good spread over my rough chest and stomach and forested groin, and my nipples did their faithful trick of standing up stiff, just like my cock.
Sometimes I did not know where the fuck the cum came from and I shouted out in the shower, but fuck no one could hear me. Shame about that.
I felt really relaxed and holiday-like when I got out eventually, smelling good, and after a couple of minutes walking about naked with my dick dangling down and swinging as I made new coffee, I wrapped myself in the new red lobster towel I had bought in the local store and returned to the balcony. I was still jutting out a bit but the fabric felt good on my dick.
Suddenly a dog, that same dog, raced on to the decking, and jumped on me. He sure was a friendly animal and now he was perched on top, reaching out to lick my face.
I let him lick, being partial to rough and hairy animals with long tongues, and slimy fluid on my face. But usually that was not dogs but guys.
Hey Rover, came a voice, here boy, here boy.
Below the balcony appeared the Hawaiian shirt from the beach and the dark head of floppy hair. He looked up at me with eyes like black berries and lashes and lips like a girl. He smiled.
Rover is here I said, which was obvious, as I was holding him, and he was licking the side of my face.
He likes the bristles, said the boy and laughed again. Can I come up and get him?
Sure, I said.
If he wants to let you go, that is, said the boy. He looks pretty keen.
The boy appeared on my balcony and Rover ran to him.
He was taller and more muscular than I had noted before and close up his unbuttoned shirt showed off some impressive muscles. He was smooth it looked like, apart from his stomach which was hairy by contrast. Not curly like mine, but covered in fine straight dark hairs, like the ones on his legs too.
He had a honey of a face and the gloss on his black hair as it flopped about was charming. His cologne or whatever smelled of vanilla.
He held out his hand to shake. Tony, he said. You’ve met Rover.
Hey, Tony, the coffee pot is on, can I tempt you? I am Bill by the way.
I grasped his hand. I liked the look of his hand in my hairy paw.
He smiled and shook his head, his hair moving like a curtain as he did.
I am not a coffee guy, Bill.
I had some herbal tea bags for the mornings when I had a fuck of a sore head. I offered him them and he said that was great.
I brought him slices of pineapple too, without asking.
And he laughed.
People think I am from Hawaii because of this shirt, and this face, but I am from California, home is right here. My grandparents are still in the old country though, among the pineapples and the bananas.
He told me where that was and by coincidence I had done a tour of duty there when I was younger. We had a chat about local beauty spots and local food delicacies as I knocked back the coffee quickly and he sipped the herbal.
My head was buzzing with the caffeine and down below I was regretting that I was only in a bath towel and had not slipped on boxers when I had finished in the shower.
Tony was sitting so close to me, and his skin was so golden, and his smile was so beautiful, and fuck that glossy black hair. And heck the dog was cute too.
How could I be having yet another boner when not ten minutes before I had been gushing cum up the glass door of the shower like a horny teenager?
I had been brought up in typical mid America with Swedes and Italians and Irish, like me. So when we all got to be fourteen and horny and started jerking off and growing hairs on our balls, the boys had been European types.
I had not known many Asians, apart from in the restaurants that is, until I had joined up and travelled the world, and fuck had never seen so many golden skins and dark eyes and blue black hair in my life. At first I thought the girls were the pretty ones, then I had looked at the guys too, and had felt the blood pulsing unexpectedly.
I remembered a dark man in a dockside bar. He had the face of an angel and the cock of a bull. He had fucked me in the alley while cats watched. I nearly had to check myself into the hospital back at the camp.
Now here was Tony facing me, with his long legs casually crossed and a pair of longish blue shorts, and his coloured shirt wide open and I was straining to see his nipples when he moved, and also the shape of the bulge in his crotch. Was he built like that angel-faced man way back then?
Tony was telling me about his Grandma and what the name was she called him, the name he was christened with. I struggled to get the pronunciation but repeated it the best I could, and Tony smiled and laughed.
Rover was sitting beside me, panting, and occasionally licking my ankle and leg.
He likes the hairs, said Tony, sorry. Fun fact - Rover is kinky.
No problem I said and moved awkwardly in my deck chair, wishing I could readjust the towel and wondering if my semi hard dick was obvious to Tony. It felt like it was huge already but fuck maybe that was just my ego swelling up.
I felt like a cigarette. It accompanied the general feeling of sexual anticipation.
You alone here, asked Tony, looking around at the cabin.
Was he about to suggest a quick fuck on the balcony?
I laughed.
The wife is still in bed, exhausted from last night. She is demanding.
I said it with a straight face.
Tony blushed. Oh I am sorry for intruding.
He got up to go.
His cheeks were the loveliest shade of pink and he dropped his long lashes.
Hey Tony, I burst out, I am kidding you. There’s no big titty blonde in there. I am here on my lonesome, lonesome holidays. As usual. Just me with my solitary habits.
He sort of smiled at that.
Independent Bill? Carefree?
No ties, I said, but what my mind was saying was, let’s just fuck, let’s get this foreplay over and done with.
He asked where I was stationed.
You must look cute in your uniform he said. Covered up.
Cute?
Who had ever called me cute? Well, not for years.
Do you want to see a photo? I said it casually.
As I went to get my phone I hastily rewrapped my towel, checking my solid member, a bit too big to disguise, so my dick was better covered up.
Rover followed me and I patted him, stroked him the way I wanted to stroke Tony. Well, you know what I mean.
I hoped Tony had been watching my ass though. Yeah, Tony, in answer to your question, my hole is hairy.
What kinda guy has near naked photos of himself when young on his phone you may ask? This kinda guy.
I showed Tony the photos. Most were me in uniform, chest out, shoulders back, haircut severe. But slipped in with those were a couple of shots of me on deck for example with top off, or in my shorts, or almost showing my ass, and there was one of Frank and me horsing around bare chested and grinning. We made a handsome couple.
Yes, said Tony, you are pretty cute. Especially in your uniform. It suits you. Who is your friend, the hairy one? The other hairy one, that is.
Oh that’s Frank, he is just my buddy at work. He and his wife.
I did n’t mention she was a lesbian or that Frank and I were jerk-off buddies.
I swallowed.
You got a girlfriend Tony? I said it out loud, not really meaning to. But I just fucking had to say it.
He did not reply immediately. But he smiled. Then he shrugged.
Sometimes. Sometimes not. There’s a girl here, maybe you’ve seen her on the beach. We hang about together with Brad.
Brad? Is that the blond lifeguard, I asked.
Yeah, he said, the All-American one. That’s Brad. Tracy is his sister.
Blonde too, I asked, imagining them coupling.
Yeah, he laughed, they are twins, ha ha. I like their hair.
I nodded.
But black hair is good too, I said. You’ve got good hair Tony.
Thank you. People say that. They like to touch it, ask if I dye it, ha ha.
Hey, what is this, a beauty salon, I laughed. And I need a shave.
I felt my chin and cheeks. I was the sort of guy who needed a shave by four in the afternoon. I had scratched some girls to fuck when we were making out. Some guys too, but they had got their own back with their stubble.
Tony went silent. He was smiling a little, but also looking me up and down. I felt the sea breeze ruffling the hairs on my legs and chest. Instinctively I lifted a hand to my pecs and began to rub and scratch. He watched all the time. I lifted my arm a bit and scratched a pit, still fragrant from the shower. Then my fingers went down to my belly and for a moment I went under the edge of the red lobster towel. I was beginning to think my hard-on was no secret love any more.
I saw Tony’s expression changing. What was it? Distaste? Interest?
Why the fuck would a young hot guy of twenty with a girl have any interest in an old grizzly guy like me, too stubbly, too rough, too hairy, too kinky, too horny – and nearly thirty-five.
Rover barked.
Hey, said Tony, standing up suddenly, then sticking his hands in his pockets as if he wanted to hide something. I wondered if he had little swimming trunks underneath – and within them a stiffening dick.
We’d better go. Tracy is making a special lunch. But what are you doing later Bill? Fancy joining us at The Beachcomber? It is karaoke night. Could be fun.
Yeah, I said, nodding. It could be fun – mind you, do not expect me to sing. I have retired.
I bet you have great lungs under there. I stroked my pecs in response.
Tony laughed and called to Rover. The vanilla smell went with them.
I watched them from the balcony. There was a bit where the beach path turned out of sight.
Rover barked. Tony turned and raised his hand to wave and as he did so he took his shirt off and waved that instead like a multi-coloured flag.
Then he dropped it on the sand. Then he dropped his shorts and I saw his swimmers were tiny and bright green.
Then he ran into the waves with his cute green ass and Rover.
He turned when the waves were up to his thighs and waved again.
If he had super-hero vision Tony would have seen my hard-on wave right back.
Fuck, I wanted that ass. Was I gonna have to jerk off for a third time that day and it was not even High Noon?
To be continued …
