“Philip, are you going to eat with us or not?” asked Ted in a tone of careful disinterest, his eyes still scanning the menu in the window. The other three in the party who had already escaped into air conditioning, where waiting for a table and padding the sweat from their foreheads. “I don’t think so...too much art on the walls,” he rolled his eyes and said. “The plates look fancy. That probably means that they won’t want to cover them with too much food. I’ll pass.”

“Fine. Where will you be?” Ted said with a tone of irritation.

“I’ll grab some pizza on the boardwalk and head over to Lavender Wave books.”

Philip walked away, his firm buns evident despite the bagginess of his shorts. Tuffs of soft brown chest hair curled around the pastel perimeters of his tank top. Ted’s gaze followed him until he turned the corner. It was times like this that he knew why he’d been attracted to Philip and why they had broken up. At least they were still friends, however annoying that generally was. Ted sighed and stepped into the restaurant. He decided on the rare tuna steak crisscrossed with fennel slivers and raspberry pepper sauce.

The boardwalk was surging with people and the air was thick with the smell of potatoes fried in peanut oil, the tropical fragrances of tanning lotions, the sharp cleansing gusts of salty winds and the musky odor of sweat. The boardwalk was so crowded that it was just about impossible to keep a polite distance from anyone. And it was driving Phil crazy. Phil was horny. He’d been horny since before his vacation had started. And after a week at the beach, the bars, the boardwalk, but no relief, it felt like his cock and balls were going to explode.

He’d rubbed past, felt the warm breath of and had blistering eye contact with three hot men, and he wasn’t even half way to his favorite pizza stand. He decided to bail out and got off the boardwalk onto a quieter, hopefully less frustrating side street.

Checking out the men was easier out of the crowds. There was no denying that he was just plain horny and at his limit. He wasn’t ready to give up yet for he still had two more days at the beach. The side street looked like it was mostly locals. Fewer people had on t-shirts that were too ugly to wear anywhere but the beach. The shops were more down-to-earth; no tourist traps. And there was a pizza and pasta place that definitely looked cheap and filling at the end of the block. His grumbling stomach had become almost as insistent as the pressure he felt in his balls.

Phil started down the block window shopping and cruising his way to dinner. The sunlight was slanting low in the sky and flowing like a golden lacquer through the street, glazing everything with a rich vividness that startled Phil. The world seemed to have fallen under an enchantment. Nothing seemed ordinary. Everything seemed beautiful. And although he knew it was a trick of the light, he allowed himself to be tricked. Seduced by the light. He slowed his pace; enjoying the antiques and the trinkets in the display windows and the tanned bodies of men turned to gold, bronze and mahogany by the setting sun.

He reached the end of the block, walked into the restaurant, got a few slices of pizza and a soda and sat down by the window. The pizza was good and it filled his belly. The soda subdued his thirst. Phil relaxed into a cozy, unfocused state of mind.

Then a shadow blocked the light and roused Phil from his daydreams. He turned his head and found, to his surprise, that he was looking straight at a pair of black leather chaps sporting a packed crotch. A bearded biker was standing at the window reading the menu, his finger running along the glass. The biker’s finger ran off the menu and pointed at Phil. He could feel the finger through the glass. They made eye contact, smiled and before Phil could say anything the beefy man had come through the door and plopped down in a chair next to him. He said, “I’m Chris,” and stuck out his hand, which hung in the air.

Phil was too dazed to move, so Chris grabbed Phil’s hand out of his lap and shook it. Chris laughed. “This is earth calling. Earth to...whoever that hunky guy in the tank top is.”

“My name’s Phil. Man, you move fast!”

“Yeah I do. I live here year ‘round and you learn fast that you can’t hesitate in a resort area.”

Chris reached over and rubbed the auburn stubble on Phil’s face and gave his moustache a playful tug. “Nice ‘stache...hope you let the rest grow in.”

“I stopped shaving the day before I went on vacation. I haven’t tried growing a beard since I was a freshmen in college, which didn’t work then.”

“It looks nice and thick now,” said Chris as his gaze dropped to the bulge in Phil’s jeans.

Knuckles rapped against the window, interrupting their conversation. Ted, with friends in tow, was making a face and pointing at his watch. They were all due at a cocktail party in an hour. The cottage that they were renting only had one bathroom and THIS crew required extended prep and primping time.

Phil nodded at Ted and told Chris, “Gotta go! Those are my friends and I drove today. Will you be out tonight?”

“Yeah. Saturday night I’m always at the Pirate. I’ll be looking for you.”

“See you there!” said Phil as he got up. Chris managed to land a slap on Phil’s butt as he went passed. Chris kept looking as they walked away.

Ted glanced back at Chris, shook his head and started talking to Phil in an animated fashion. Chris chuckled, imagining what kind of warning Phil’s friends were giving him about consorting with leathermen.

Chris was standing at the bar near the pool table. He had just added his name to the blackboard but it looked like it would be awhile until he played. He was hoping that Phil would show, but at the same time he figured that it wasn’t too likely. He promised himself that he wouldn’t go after anyone dressed like West Hollywood or anyone who had their hair styled instead of their hair cut. But Phil’s soft brown eyes, furry chest and week old beard had been too much to pass up. Just thinking about Phil and what he’d like to do with him made Chris so hard that he had to shift his legs to pop his cock into a more comfortable angle.

Phil walked into the room, looking around to see if he could spot Chris. When he did, he gave a big grin that Chris returned with a wave to come on over.

“Hey Phil! How are you doin’?” asked Chris.

“Pretty good...the party wasn’t too boring.”

“Are your friends here?”

“No, they’re still at the party. Probably won’t get here until after hours.”

“Do you play pool?”

“No, but I figured you’d be back by the pool table.”

“Is that so. How’d you figure that?”

“Well this isn’t exactly a butch bar, I guess there probably isn’t one on the beach, so I thought you’d gravitate to the least, uh, decorative part of the bar.”

Chris smirked, “You thought right. I’m usually here or out on the deck. There used to be a nice hole-in-the-wall local bar but it got bought and went upscale.”

“How ‘bout we go on the deck, the smoke is really getting to me.”

“Sure.”

The back bar on the deck had a spectacular view of the ocean. Phil was captivated by the moonlight on the seafoam, the gauzy trace of clouds and the glinting stars that made the sky a faux marble masterpiece. His thoughts alternated between purely sensual appreciation of the beauty and playful metaphors; seed for future poems. His musings ended when a cold beer appeared in his hand.

“What were you thinking about?” asked Chris. He took a sip of his drink and seemed intent on getting an answer.

“Uh, nothing, I just daydream a lot,” said Phil.

“I can believe it. That’s what you were doing when I met you, but that’s not what I asked. What were you thinking about?”

“The sky, the waves, clouds, stars, colors, words...I write poetry and fiction. I must be sounding like a flake.”

Phil suddenly felt unsure of himself. All of his preconceptions of what a guy like Chris would think of flowery ramblings made his mouth dry and his palms sweat.

“No, you’re sounding more interesting. To tell you the truth I don't think I’d have looked at you twice if it hadn't been for the beard growing in. But that would’ve been my loss. I like brains and imagination as much as I like furry chests and faces.” Chris smiled and continued, “How ‘bout a walk on the beach?”

“Sure!”

As soon as they hit the sand Chris was running and Phil was trying to catch up. Phil was surprised that a man with as thick and beefy a build as Chris could run like a deer. Chris slowed down so that Phil could catch up. And as soon as he was near, Chris ran into the water, splashed Phil and ran like hell.

“You bastard!” Phil screamed, loving every minute of the sudden break from the boring, predictable flow of the queer bar pickup.

“You bet! Are you winded yet?”

Chris looked magnificent. His wet clothes clinging to robust muscles pumping in a confident, powerful stride. The wind ruffling his beard. And Phil wanted nothing more than to fuck that ass. He couldn’t take his eyes off that ass and, wham! Chris stopped running and Phil ran right into him. Tangled, they fell together onto the sand and Chris immediately started to lick Phil’s neck. The taste and smell of cologne was a turn off, but Chris knew a quick solution to that problem. He gave Phil a squeeze to the groin, stood up and smiled down at him. He extended his hand and helped Phil to his feet. Then he literally swept him up and walked into the surf.

“I’m not in the mood for a swim!” Phil insisted.

“Well, I like my men salty and scent-free. I don’t wanna put my mouth anywhere it’s gonna come back tasting like air-freshener.” With that said, Chris dropped Phil back into the water.

He yelled, sputtered and got back onto his feet; too angry to do anything but glower.

“Hey, that’s a nice mean look. Can you manage that in bed?”

Phil tackled Chris and pulled him under the water. Phil found that he was out of his league and in too deep in more ways than one. Chris seemed part octopus, part dolphin and part crab as he grappled, played and pinched at Phil’s sensitive parts. After a bit, Phil started to enjoy the underwater wrestling. His cock was as hard as an anchor, and Chris was crashing against it like a ship in the storm.

Chris said, “Wanna head up to my cottage and put some motion in my ocean?”

“Fuck yes!” said Phil.

Chris was down on all fours buck naked with a can of lube and a condom waiting. The dim red light of the garage glowed on his shaggy black hair and beard, giving him an impish look like a satyr in heat. Phil was excited, confused and a little afraid to be in the garage, instead of the bedroom, amidst Chris’s tools, Harley and a chest filled with sex toys and leather. Chris turned his head slowly around like a cougar, locked eyes with Phil and impaled him with a fiery-eyed intensity of his desire. He looked away and released Phil who’s lungs suddenly remembered to breathe. Chris flexed his butt up in the air and waited. Phil knelt and rolled a condom and lube onto his cock as his heart pounded. Each beat feeling like a hammer falling on the head of his cock.

Chris’s butthole was relaxing, open like a rosebud. He pushed his cock into the hungry hole and gasped and squeezed as each inch slide in. Chris pushed back and ground his hairy buns into Phil’s crotch and said, “Show me what you can do.”

Chris clamped down with his sphincter and pulled on Phil’s cock. Phil started to fuck him with slow, pounding strokes. Throwing his weight into each prostate-thumping beat.

“Yeah...Yeah, that’s...keep fucking that furry butt!” Chris murmured.

He reached back and grabbed Phil's balls and tugged hard on them, following the rhythm of the fucking.

“Ah, shit that feels good! Oh fuck!” Phil was riding high, intoxicated by the smell of salt water, sweat, butthole and the feel of sex rushing up from his cock.

“Keep it going, man, I need a good pounding!” growled Chris.

Phil leaned forward across Chris’s broad back, the coarse hair tickling his belly, and reached for his plump nipples and started rolling them between his fingers. Chris shuddered with pleasure and pain. Phil fucked with slow, easy strokes like a snake charmer keeping the cobra from striking. Keeping the cum from shooting out of his cock too soon. Chris pulled hard on Phil’s nutsac. Phil dug his nails into Chris’s tits and they both hung on the edge between enough and too much.

Silent, immersed in passions, sensations and fantasies, they clung to each other. Their bodies meshed together perfectly. Size, shape and temperament blending and blurring the lines between inner and outer realms of erotic exchange.

Without missing a beat, Chris rolled over, spinning on Phil’s cock so that they were face-to-face. They kissed as they fucked. Phil ran his fingers through the thick curls of Chris's beard. The rough scratch of Phil’s stubble on Chris’s neck sent goose flesh, rising across his body like thousands of little erections. Their tongues played in and out in counterpoint to the slow, powerful cadence of their fucking. They were getting closer to cumming. Their prostates hard as rocks. Their asses clenching tighter.

Chris pulled out of the lip-lock and said, “Hold off a second.” He reached over to a bag on the floor and dug out two sets of tit clamps joined by chains.

“Are you sure?” asked Phil.

“You'll love it,” Chris said as he put one clamp on his left tit and then the other on Phil’s. He smiled at Phil’s grimace and put the other set on, making an “x” connecting their tits.

“Let ‘er rip!” he yelled, grinding his butt on Phil’s cock.

They started fucking faster, each stroke a jab of white-hot sensation through their tits. Phil’s face was flush red as he moaned continuously. He started pulling back harder as he fucked Chris; their tits were stretching. Pulling and throbbing with pleasure/pain. Chris began to pluck at the chains with his fingers and Phil cried out with each tug. With lids half closed by the pressure of sensation, Phil looked down at the furry bear that he was fucking and felt his whole body pounding with desire at the sight of Chris. Phil groaned and Chris grabbed the chains of the tit clamps and pulled him down onto his lips.

Chris kissed him and said, “It’s time to cum baby. Cum, yeah, c’mon, shoot that load!”

Words and kisses intermingled as he repeated more urgently, “Shoot that load!!”

Chris pulled even harder on the chains. Phil hammered his butt with a rock hard cock. Closer.... Closer.... Closer.... And with a yank that pulled the tit clamps off, Chris came, spewing his cum across his hairy chest and into his beard. Phil convulsed into a whole-body orgasm and fell into the warm, sticky fur of Chris’s chest.

They kissed and drifted off into glowing aftershocks of their orgasms. Tenderly relishing each other’s shutters and sighs. Phil grabbed the base of his cock in rubber and eased out slowly. He smiled to himself. He’d never filled a rubber with that much cum before.

Chris rubbed his palm against Phil’s new beard and said, “About half an hour buddy, then it’s time for me to fuck you!”

|=| Close Window |=|


© 2001-2004 Butch Media Ltd. All Rights Reserved.