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Swimmer Boy

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

But in my city, Vancouver, “not a cloud in the sky” is no guarantee that that the rest of the day will be a continuous, sunny day. Still, can always hope. We live in hope. Vancouver tends to be a little soggy all year except July and August, but, with the Pacific in front and the Mountains behind, what’s a little rain?

I was between sets in my bench presses as I turned to my workout partner, David, and asked “So, ya think it’s going to be Sunny this afternoon?”

“No. It’s going to start raining.” he replied with absolute certainty.

David’s 190 pounds of muscle towered over me in solid tanned flesh hidden beneath sweat pants and a huge oversize T-shirt.

“Optimist,” I replied with a chuckle. “I wanted to go to the beach this afternoon.” I concluded the thought after burning through the last eight reps.

“No. That’s optimism,” he said nodding towards a rather busty blond doing flies a few benches away. “Now, get on with it. You have one more set.” I finished with the iron. I said bye to David who was already heading towards his target. It’s not his fault he’s straight. As I said, we live in hope.

I spent 15 minutes in the stretching room working on my abs then rushed through a quick 5-minute stretch before heading for the shower room. A lonely cloud marred the still blue skies despite David’s prediction.

Always the opportunist and exhibitionist, my eye caught glimpse of a guy at the other end of the row gazing at me. I grinned to myself, kicked off my sneakers then slowly and deliberately peeled off my sweaty tank top and shorts, then casually pulling down my jock strap to release my loose, sweaty, ball sac and my dick. I bent over again to remove my socks off along with the jock. I noticed the hungry look on the guys face, still sneaking peeks at me. If he wanted a show, I was happy to give him one. A surge of energy passed to my dick.

Throwing a clean towel over my shoulder, I sauntered off to the shower room my meat swinging loose between my legs as I walked.

At 11:30 am it wasn’t surprising I was alone in the showers. I could almost hear my tight muscles sigh in relief under the spay of water Every week I pumped iron 4 1-hour sessions, jogged 30 miles, did two aerobic classes and two yoga classes, and still determined to turn my flat stomach into a rippled six-pack I spent 15 minutes on them almost daily. Not to mention plenty of biking around town. Whoever says genetics makes a good body should be shot: it takes damn hard work and dedication.

I could have spent the rest of the day in there but the call of the beach was stronger. I lathered up, rinsed off, and toweled down.

I dressed, stopped by home to trade my gym bag in for a beach bag and left. David’s dire predictions notwithstanding, I was determined to enjoy the hot sun beating down on my skin. Clad in a light tank top and shorts the 20 minute bike ride sped quickly by.

As I began the hike down the steep hill to the beach below I paused to remove my clothes and stuff everything in my beach bag. This was a nude beach and what’s the sense of waiting to get naked? Stripped free of clothing I picked my way down the steep hill. My favorite space, largely secluded with surrounding trees and bushes with room for about three occupants, was unoccupied. I spread out my blanket and stashed my bag in some nearby shade then went wandering to see who else was around.

There weren’t many guys around so early in the afternoon and on a weekday. I did bump into a couple that I knew and stopped for the usual small talk, then wandered around for a while checking out to see if there was anyone interesting. Eventually, returned to my special corner.

I settled in with my head relaxing on a small log under the corner of my large blanket and pulled out the biography of Eva Peron I had started only the day before. I soon was engrossed in the fascinating portrayal of her rise from poverty and obscurity to power and international fame. But not so deep as to fail to notice the occasional guy that came blundering in to my small area. Some of them, I’m sure, were hoping to find my space open. It was definitely the most desirable of the three spots in this area. Others were just curious. Once they realized the path would led to a dead end, they’d make a hasty retreat. Many were of little interest but a few of them did catch my eye.

One of my occasional visitors was tall with close-cropped dark brown hair over a very well tanned swimmer’s body. He looked to be a couple years younger than me. Aside from the backpack hanging over his right shoulder, he was naked. I had a great view of the nice equipment between his legs. A defined bikini tan line was clear evidence that he was not used to being naked in the sunshine. He paused a couple moments, turned and left.

Half an hour later, he was back. This time I could swear his meat had become slightly thicker and hung just a bit longer. He quite deliberately walked towards my blanket. I pulled my nose out of the book to say “hi” to him.

“Hope you don’t mind me saying this,” he said softly, “but you are the most attractive guy I’ve come across”-I waited-”on this beach,” he finished with a shy smile.

Not bad! A little cheesy, perhaps, as pick up lies go, but not bad.

He squatted down and sat on the log a couple feet from the edge of my blanket. We made casual conversation commenting how the weather had morphed into such a great beach day.

I offered him to move to the more comfortable setting of my blanket. It was, after all, large enough for two. As he seated himself he reached over and lightly skimmed his hand over the soft nap of hair on my legs.

“Lovely.”

He was quite tall. At a guess, maybe, about 6’4″. With that height even his well-developed chest and shoulders weren’t enough to keep him from looking slim. He had the build of somebody who’s spent countless hours doing laps in a pool. Large dollar-sized nipples framed on his meaty pecs. They were just begging to be to be nibbled on-or at least touched. I reached out with my left hand and grabbed onto the knob gently twisting it. He leaned slowly towards me. It was his mouth that reached mine. His tongue glided over my lips, gently prying them open. His tongue was warm against mine. Then it was gone. He reached across my body to grasp my right hip.

“It’s incredibly soft!” he whispered thickly, referring to the nap on my leg.

Without any warning, he flipped down to be half straddling me, his hard rod pressed into my left hip. His face came closer and closer to mine. Our lips met again and we kissed passionately under the warmth of the sunshine. Our tongues dueled, exploring each other’s mouth. I wrapped my arms around him and softly began exploring every bit of muscled flesh they could reach. His skin was soft, satiny and devoid of all body hair.

He ran his left down my body; l reached my throbbing 7? inches. He growled softly, sqeezing. And still we kissed. My nameless swimmer and I were lost in passion. The world ended for us at that moment. We hugged, we kissed, we felt and kissed each other’s bodies. We rolled around on my blanket in various positions. Every each was carefully explored and enjoyed.

Oh, the feel of his body swimming against mine. The taste of it. The smell of it. The warmth radiating between us.

We lay side by side in a 69 position and as I sucked on his balls and played with his penis. He nudged his tongue deeper and deeper in the perineum area and slowly into my crack. He reached the depth of how far he could go from that position. He could go no further. He flipped me over. I lay on my stomach-waiting.

He grasped my ass cheeks, spread them wide and dove in face-first. The feel was delicious. His tongue ran in concentric circles around my hole, up and down the crack, darted in-and-out all over the place. He nibbled gently on the tender skin around the hole before getting to the center and forcefully pressed his tongue into the depths of my hole.

By now I was teetering on the edge, intense sensations coursing through my body from the rmming I was getting. I was eager and ready to return the favor. He other ideas. He grabbed my very solid dick and pulled it forward, presented his ass before me in silent invitation. I took the cue, reached over to my beach bag glad that I always planned for such moments. Soon I had my rod sheathed and was prodding at his puckered hole with my lube-dripped fingers. The entry seemed impossible for the first few seconds then suddenly I felt the muscle give and my two fingers were able to slowly ease into the warmth of his insides. I spent a few moments ensuring it was loosened up well for my thick tool, then with eager anticipation pressed the tip of my cut meat against the opening in his cheeks.

Suddenly the tip broke through the surface and vanished. I eased forward, bit-by-bit until all 7? thick, throbbing inches were inside of him. I lay flat on top of his body my dick buried deep inside his ass feeling both the heat and the sensations of his insides. It was heaven. With my arms wrapped around him I began working my hips to fuck his delicious white ass.

It was slow at first. A slow rhythmic motion, a savoring of delicious sensations buried deep of his tight hole. It was the intense eroticism of full body contact lying directly atop his own. It was the warmth of the sun in the afternoon, of perspiration slipping up and down through the sweat glistening on his skin and forming a pool in the small of his back.

Once again time passed.

I fucked his ass slowly, my body sliding up and down against his. He moved in rhythm. His arms reached back to wipe at the sweat on my sides and back.

It was time to pick up the pace.

I began to thrust harder and faster. He arched his back, pushing his butt up to meet me. He rose higher and higher until he was kneeling on all fours. M y hands grasped his sides as I pounded on his ass with furious abandon. Swimmer Boy reached between his legs and began stroking himself. His groans were long, steady moans. I was grunting with each thrust I made. We were not terribly loud but loud enough to draw attention. We had an audience of four guys, each stroking his own erect penis while staring in rapt attention to our live sex show. Add that image to the feel of my swimmer’s body I was invading beneath me and I reached the point of no return. I felt my orgasm build surge up, build and, sweep through my whole body as my grunts became deeper and more staccato then, suddenly, erupt deep inside his ass. Less than a minute later, he let out an unearthly squeal and began to spray white globs of cum onto my blanket below him.

I eased my hypersensitive dick out and carefully removed the jizz-filled wrapper. A couple guys in our audience also sprayed, and they all dispersed with the show ended.

For the first time in at least two hours we spoke. He apologized for making a mess on my blanket.

“The blanket can go through the laundry”, I assured him chuckling at the commonplace comment after what we had just shared. I produced a couple paper towels from my beach bag and wiped up whatever I could of the mess from on my blanket. A trash can would take care of the rest when I departed the beach.

We kissed once again. He grabbed his backpack and was gone.

He hadn’t told me his name and that’s just fine. In my memories it’s just Swimmer Boy.

Written by Evan Teed. Edited by Richard.
???? Copyright 2008 by Evan Teed. All rights reserved.