I stepped out onto the expansive cedar deck and let the warm rays of the morning sun wash over me. I took a sip of coffee, gazing out at the sparkling blue lake and the lush, green forest all around, grinning.
Then I walked down the stairs to the large backyard of the spacious lake house, out to the edge of the emerald lawn that led down to the private beach ten feet below. And I grinned all over again, admiring an even more spectacular view: a guy laid out on a beach towel on the sugary sand, totally nude.
He was young, his body smooth and suntanned. He was heavily-muscled like a professional bodybuilder and hung like a professional porn star. He lay with his arms at his sides and one leg bent, body glistening, cock resting long and hard on his ribbed belly, his balls smooth-shaven and eminently cuppable, hand or mouth. He had short, black hair, a cleft chin and a fine, straight nose, plush lips; and although his eyes were closed, I just bet they sparkled the same delightful colour as the lake.
A hunk of raw, cut beef left on my private beachfront, to bait me.
I’m a late sleeper, and maybe he hadn’t figured on that. Because from ten feet below, with the bright sun in the clear, blue sky at my back, there was no way he could get a good look at me up on the bluff, a good look at my cock. As I planted the coffee cup in the grass and slipped my bathrobe open, lifted the heavy, swelling meat between my legs.
But, lo and behold, the muscled sunbather washed up on my beach began to stir, as if sensing my presence. He straightened his arms up over his head in one gigantic stretch, huge muscles tightening and flexing, back and bum arching, erect cock rising higher, served up on a stunning, shining man-platter.
Then he flopped down flat again, and his right hand slipped over his hip and onto his cock, gripping the thick, rigid appendage which was as golden-brown as the rest of him. He smiled to himself, he liked me to believe, as his other big hand slid in under his balls and grasped and squeezed the tight-packed sack. As he lifted his dong, and stroked.
Ol’ Sol had nothing on the heat this young beach bum was generating. I shed my bathrobe, not loosening my grip of my own throbbing cock. My nude body blazed bronze out there in the sun-drenched, pine-scented secluded open, every bit as muscled as the stud stretched out down below. I pumped my dick in rhythm to his handjob.
He had the advantage on me in one respect – he was oiled for action, basted in suntan lotion. His hand glided up and down his gleaming cock, sliding smooth and tight along the shaft, fingers swirling deftly over and around the mushroomed hood.
I matched him stroke for stroke, even if mine was a dry-run, shifting my foreskin back and forth, exposing and rubbing my swollen hood. Watching the muscleman wax his dong, twist and pull on his sack.
His eyelids fluttered, and I caught the gleam of his eyes slitting up my way. But he couldn’t see what he wanted to see. Not with that glaring sun at my back and in his eyes, my stroking hand engulfing my cockhead faster and faster.
His prick seemed to grow even longer, taller, as his palm swept up and down. He raised his hips and hollowed his stomach, his towering cock becoming almost all of him, everything to him, and I. Pecs clenching and biceps popping, heels digging into the sand, he urgently fisted the incredible length of his dong from base to cap, quickly pulling the pair of us past the point of no return.
‘Fuck!’ I hissed in heartfelt admiration, pinching a buzzing nipple, tugging on my cock.
The guy gasped, groaned, his muscled body writhing, hand flying. Semen sprayed out of his slit, leaping three feet into the air and splashing down onto his jumping chest. One blast, another, and another. Sperm shooting out of his hand-milked cock, striping his crunched pecs and abs.
I grunted and jerked my own joy, jetting come out of my cranked cock and right over the edge of the bluff. Burst after burst arced through the air and splattered down onto the hard-coming man below, mixing with his load on his he-man torso. A heated reply to his sizzling provocation.
When he’d finally emptied his strangled balls all over himself, he opened his eyes and grinned up at me. ‘Sorry to barge on to your beach uninvited,’ he apologized, unselfconsciously squeezing the last few drops of jizz out of his juicy cock. ‘And make such a mess.’
I laughed, clutching my drained dick at the head. ‘Looks like the mess is on you.’ His chest and stomach shone with sperm oil.
He stood up, told me his name was Paul, that he’d been backpacking in the woods, seen my beach and decided to set up a temporary camp for some full-frontal sunbathing. He had the backpack to support his story, the body to quell any objections to his sunbathing.
‘How ‘bout you go for a swim,’ I suggested, ‘and clean yourself off. I’ll join you in a minute.’
He liked that idea.
But his handsome face registered just a trace of disappointment when I stepped back out of the house and down to the beach wearing my swimsuit. It was just a little thing, a swatch of red spandex that nicely presented my package and highlighted my overpumped everything else, but still covered up my cock.
‘I didn’t pack a swimsuit,’ Paul said, flashing his straight, white teeth. ‘Mind if I skinny-dip?’ His clear, blue eyes twinkled.
‘Not at all. It’s a private beach. Just don’t stray into the shipping lanes.’
‘Gotcha.’ He looked around. ‘You sure have a beautiful spot here, Mr …?’
‘Just call me Blondie,’ I said, running a hand through my short, straight, blond hair.
Tony Losi – when he’d fled with the mob money, and the FBI informant money he’d gotten for exposing the mob-cop tie-up – had had dark, curly hair.
‘Well, you’ve got a great build … Blondie, to go with the great scenery.’
‘Thanks. You, too.’
Tony Losi had been fat, hairy, and fish-belly pale when he’d taken the money and disappeared into his own personal witness protection program.
Paul glanced down at his naked body, the slab of meat dangling enticingly long, even soft, between his legs. ‘Yeah, I hit the weights pretty hard, I guess. I’ve had a bit of work done, too.’ He looked up at me. ‘You?’
‘A man never tells,’ I responded, grinning.
Tony Losi had had a bent nose and a receding chin when he’d taken flight with the Feds and the mob at his heels. Nothing like my straight nose and strong chin.
Of course, all that could be worked on. What couldn’t be changed was that Gorbachev-like birthmark on the hood of Tony’s cock – there was no scientific way to wipe that away for good. It was better than fingerprints to identify your man, if you were willing to dig that deep. And there were five million reasons for digging just that deep.
I ran across the hot sand and dove into the cool water, Paul at my heels.
We splashed and swum around in the sun-dappled lake. And when Paul caught me and turned me, and I looked at his streaming black hair, the water droplets gilding his broad bronze shoulders, those shining blue eyes of his, I just had to kiss the man.
We wrapped our brawny arms around one another and mashed our mouths together, his lips soft and wet and searching, mine hungry. I held his hard, hot body tight to my body in the waist-high water, and his bare cock surged against the pulsing need stretching out the front of my swimsuit.
He slipped his tongue into my mouth, arousing and tangling it with my tongue. Using the distracting action to dive one of his hands down into the water, in search of my cock. But that was going just a little too off the deep end, just yet.
So, I grabbed Paul’s wrist and gasped into his mouth, ‘Easy, big guy. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’
His eyes momentarily lost their wanton softness, as he tested my strength, trying to swim his hand closer. The water rippled with our muscular tug-of-war.
Until Paul grinned and relaxed. His hand drifted back up, dripping, onto my shoulder, and his eyes sparkled again, agreeable to anything. ‘Sorry,’ he said, licking his lips. ‘I get kind of excited sometimes.’
Money can do that to a man.
I kissed him, tongued his lips all around. Then I pressed my cock hard against his submerged log, started churning my hips, frotting the guy. He groaned, his eyelids fluttering, faking it, maybe; but feeling it, for sure.
The pulsating length of cock in my swimsuit slid smooth and sensuous against Paul’s bared meat, our lips sealing together and tongues entwining. His knuckles bled white on my brown shoulders, fingernails biting into my flesh. I dropped my own hands down into the water and grabbed onto his big, bare ass. And his mounded buttocks began pumping in rhythm to my thrusting, fucking me back cock-to-cock.
The sun beat down on us, the water warming with our erotic efforts. We moved our hips faster, sliding our dicks together harder, the elongated pair squeezing against one another like snakes making love. I could feel the beating of his cock through my cock. And then the spurting, as he came.
He bucked and grunted, his butt cheeks jumping in my hands, his hot sperm flooding my groin. He tilted his head back and I bit into his neck. And the muscleman’s powerful orgasm triggered mine again, for the second time that day. White-hot jizz boiled out of my tightened balls and blasted out the tip of my pistoning dong, clouding the waters with more come.
We clung to each other in the lake, pumping ecstasy against one another. Just two strangers out for a swim. So much more going on beneath the surface.
* * *
Paul helped me prepare dinner, peppering me with questions throughout. Where was I from? What did I do? How long had I lived there?
The only one missing: any birthmarks?
Partially-clothed now in a muscle-shirt and pair of shorts, to match mine, his hands, lips and body touched me often, as I barbequed the steaks and baked the potatoes, and he tossed the salads. Real he-man fare.
Tony Losi was more of a baked spaghetti and linguini alfredo kind of guy.
‘Great meal,’ Paul stated with satisfaction, after we’d tucked away all the food. Sex has a way of making a man hungry – for more. ‘Now, what’s for dessert?’
We were sitting out on the deck overlooking the lake and surrounding forest. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, the shadows lengthening.
Tony Losi had a thing for giving blowjobs and getting fucked in the ass after a huge meal – chowing down and then going down, getting stuffed at both ends, he liked to say.
I stood up and took Paul’s hand, led him back inside the house and down the hall and into the bathroom. His eyes lit up when he saw the size and elegance of the room, the huge, old-fashioned, cast-iron tub that stood alongside the far wall. The claw-footed dunk tank could comfortably hold two, I well-knew.
‘Care for another dip?’
Paul popped his top and shucked his shorts before I even had the silver faucets open and running. He gripped my shorts from behind and yanked them down. I kept my butt to the guy, letting the hot water halfway fill the tub and then adding lots and lots of soothing, bubbling bath salts. Straightening up again, I pulled off my muscle-shirt and stepped out of my shorts and into the tub, back still to the eager young man.
I sat down in the heated suds, turning, smothering bubbles coming up to my waist. I leaned back against the smooth, cool metal surface of the tub and watched Paul follow me in, his cock bobbing fully-erect again, muscles rippling all over his Golden Wonder body. He lowered himself down into the water on the opposite side of the love-tub, facing me.
‘Beautiful,’ he breathed.
Before he could catch his breath, I moved around so that I was on my hands and knees in front of the guy, in between his legs. I scooped aside a cloud of foam and exposed his cock, grasped the slippery pole. ‘Beautiful, indeed,’ I murmured, lowering my head and filling my mouth with his handsome hood.
‘Yeah!’ he growled.
I gripped the base of his towering dong and crept my lips down his slickened shaft, consuming him inch by inch, enveloping him in manmade warmth and wetness. He tasted just as meaty and succulent as he looked. I bobbed my head up and down, sucking on his prick, tugging on the smooth shaft and hood with my lips and mouth, stroking with my tongue.
Paul gripped the sides of the tub and groaned, genuinely admiring my skill. Then he started moving his hips, fucking my mouth in rhythm to my sucking. His cock slid deep into the back of my throat and back out again, over and over, my lips sealing and cheeks billowing.
‘Let me blow you!’ the guy finally gasped. He rose up in the tub, his cock popping out of my mouth and leaving me empty, intent on grabbing my cock, and the answer to all of his questions.
So, I grabbed his V-waist and spun him around and pulled him down, using my muscle. He landed on his butt with a splash, his broad back to me. I shoved him up, slid under him, so that his wet ass was directly above my wet cock, primed and ready for penetration.
He had to hold onto the sides of the tub to steady himself and I wasted no time in spearing my hood into his butthole, thrusting shaft up his ass. ‘Yeah. Fuck me!’ he groaned, like he’d honestly forsaken business for pleasure, for the time being.
Muscles locked all over his arms and back, as he held himself up, balancing on my cock, squeezing me in the heated vice of his chute. I draped my arms over the sides of the tub for leverage and lunged up and down, pumping Paul’s hot, gripping bung.
Water and suds slopped onto the marble floor, the great tub shaking like the man himself, as I hammered my cock into his ass. He managed to grab onto his own flapping cock and jack it, feet jamming up against the end of the tub.
I gritted my teeth and flung my hips back and forth, sweat streaming off my face, chest and arms in muscular seizure, body beating against Paul’s backside, pistoning his velvet chute. I was all-cock now, plowing into the guy’s manhole, in preparation to plugging it full of come.
The water splashed faster and higher, bubbles floating upwards, wet flesh smacking together; one man’s cock furiously reaming another man’s ass. ‘Fuck you!’ I cried, exploding inside Paul.
He shook on the end of my wildly thrusting and spurting cock, shooting ropes of jizz out of his own fisted dick. Until the last of my load of molten sperm stung his bowels, his own load streaking the wall and the tub.
He tumbled down into my arms and I held his heaving body tight against mine, cock still buried in his butt. We both shuddered with the aftershocks of all-out release. And then I slipped my arms up and around his neck, putting him in a sleeper hold. I slid down into the water, taking the man, whoever he was, under.
It was the same technique I’d used on Tony Losi, in the lake. Right after I’d yanked his hard cock out of his red Speedo and sighted the birthmark on his hood. He told me where he’d hidden the money, before disappearing for good.
I’d recognized his cap, but he hadn’t recognized my face or body, what with all the work I’d had done. I was one of the crooked cops he’d fucked-over, literally and figuratively. The ugly hood.