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story, MMM, "Men at the Beach"

Usual warnings apply: no one under 18 admitted without parent or 
guardian, for external use only, void where prohibited, shake well 
before using, and so on.

MEN AT THE BEACH
by Felix Lance Falkon

Archiving permitted; re-posting is permitted; in those cases 
you must include this statement of limitation of use. The 
author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format. 
However, individual readers may make single copies of the 
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (C) 1997 by Felix Lance Falkon.

=========================================

     Naked young men splashed in the surf and scampered along the 
beach.  Others lay on the sand, tanning their bare bodies or coupling 
in the  sun and wind. I strolled to Christopher's favorite spot, near 
the  rocks, and found him there, lying on his back, his lithe body 
squirming  under the penetrating thrusts of a crew-cut blond almost as 
muscular  as me. I knelt beside the pair, dropped my towel and tanning 
lotion, and  tousled Chris's curly hair in greeting. ``Having fun?''

     _``He_ is,'' Christopher said, tightening his legs around  the 
burr-headed blond's waist, ``and I'm having fun turning him on  with 
my hunky self.'' Chris always meant exactly what he said, but  he said 
it with a grin that made it hard to take him seriously. ``Tom,  this 
is Eric. He's a real hard-driving stud; you ought to try him  
sometime.''

     Without missing a stroke, Eric looked up, said, ``Hi. This guy  
always talk like that?``

     I laughed, then said, ``Sometimes he starts telling jokes when  
you're getting close. Awful jokes.''

     ``Yeah?'' Eric accelerated his stroke; in a few moments he 
climaxed;  then sat up, panting; and carefully pulled out his 
gleaming, still-hard  prong.

     We sat quietly for a minute enjoying the sun and sea breeze and 
the  warm sand under us. Eric glanced at Chris; Chris nodded. Eric 
stretched  himself out on Chris's legs and slowly took Chris's rock-
hard prong  into his mouth.

     ``Tom,'' Chris said, reaching out to touch my stiffening prong,  
``I'd like for you to do me a favor.''

     ``You know I'd do anything for you, so shoot,'' I said happily  
as my shaft hardened.

     Chris suddenly looked serious, which was completely out of 
character  for him. ``No, you mustn't do it if you don't want to.''

     ``This _is_ something new,'' I said, interested. ``Or  is this a 
new approach?''

     ``Tom,'' Chris said firmly, ``I think you know me too well  to 
think that.''

     I shrugged my shoulders.

     ``There's a young guy sitting alone on the other side of those  
rocks. I don't know him, but I've been watching him for some time  
now. He's not sure of himself -- he's not like you or me or Eric.  I 
think he needs a push. You know what I mean, Tom.''

     ``Yes, I know.'' My natural greed made me ask, ``And 
afterwards?''

     Chris smiled. ``Of course. Meanwhile . . .'' He reached  down and 
stroked the shoulders of the blond sucking hungrily on Chris's  prong.

     I bent, tousled Chris's hair again, gathered my towel and lotion 
bottle,  and straightened up.

     ``Later,'' Chris said.

     ``Bye,'' I said, and walked toward the rocks.

          * * 

*     The young man was sitting alone, motionless, staring out to sea. 
His  hair was mouse-colored, his expression blank. When I stopped 
beside  him, he looked up, then out to sea again.

     ``Mind?'' I asked.

     ``Uh -- no, no; go ahead.'' He patted the sand; I spread  my 
towel and sat down beside him; together, we watched the sea.

     After a dozen minutes or so, I caught him stealing a glance at 
me.  He blushed; I grinned reassuringly. ``I don't mind -- I kinda  
like people admiring my build.''

     ``Yeah?''

     ``Sure.'' I turned to face him, expanded my chest and flexed  my 
arms. ``How's this?'' I shifted to my knees, put both hands  behind my 
bare butt, and tensed my pectorals. ``Or this?'' I  put my hands on my 
hips, fingers casually pointing toward my stiffening  cock, and sucked 
in my stomach.

     ``You look -- great.''

     ``Thanks.'' I grinned, and a comfortable flush spread through  my 
body. I reached out with my right hand, took his left, and gently  
pulled his hand to my chest. ``Come on -- feel.''

     And he did, gingerly at first, but with growing eagerness. His 
hands  roamed over my chest, shoulders, sides, and on down to my 
thighs --  carefully avoiding my balls and my now-hard prong -- while 
his  own prong erected to a quivering stand.

     ``Ready?'' I asked.

     ``Uh . . .'' He dropped his hands, looked down at his  own virile 
organs.

     ``Okay, then.''

     I pushed him back onto the sand, lowered my chest onto his 
thighs,  and closed my mouth on the tip of his shaft. I sucked, felt 
his muscles  go taut, then released his shaft and looked up to meet 
his anxious  gaze. ``Just relax and make it last -- okay?''

     He licked his lips and nodded wordlessly. I took his glans again,  
went slowly down on him, and began to work on his prong with lips  and 
tongue. After a couple of strokes, he began to relax; after a  dozen 
more, his muscles slowly tighened up again.

     I raised my head. ``Getting close?''

     ``Y-yeah.''

     ``Cool down a couple of minutes, then.''

     He nodded, took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. 
When  he'd caught his breath, I started to work on him again. The next 
time  I paused, he reached for my rod.

     ``Let me . . .''

     ``Sure,'' I said, lying back on the sand.

     He pounced, took me down to the hilt in a single gulp.

     ``Hey! Not so fast,'' I growled.

     He pulled back, looked up. ``But . . . ?''

     ``Your teeth.''

     ``Oh -- sorry.'' He took me more carefully this time, awkward  at 
first, but learning fast as he sucked with almost desperate hunger  at 
my prong.

     When he had drawn me to the brink of an eruption, I eased him off  
and took his shaft into my mouth again. We swapped places twice more  
-- shorter sessions each time -- until he could hold back no  longer 
and pumped his load down my throat.

     ``Wow!'' he gasped, lay breathing hard for a few moments, then  
eased himself onto my legs, sucked my glans into his mouth, and slowly  
went down on me to the hilt. This time, he worked slowly, carefully,  
barely grazing my shaft with his teeth; this time, he took me all  the 
way, and sucked me dry.

          * * 

*     Later, after a long nap in the sun, I asked him, ``First time?''

     ``Was it -- was I that obvious? But -- yeah, it was.''

     ``Looks like you're a quick re-charge, too.'' I touched his  
stiffening prong.

     ``Just -- remembering.'' He licked his lips slowly,  glanced at 
my own half-erect shaft. ``How 'bout -- you know  -- another round?''

     ``Sure -- but --'' I rolled up to my knees, reached  for the 
bottle of lotion. ``How 'bout something different this  time?''

     ``Okay, but . . .''

     ``Don't worry,'' I said, as I lubricated my shaft. ``It'll  
fit.''

     ``Yeah? I hope so.'' He lay back, raised his legs, and spread  
his thighs.

     ``You sure this your first time?'' I asked, as I arched my body  
over his and probed with my glans.

     ``I've been watching -- ooof! -- what guys are doing on  the 
beach, so -- aaah! You in?''

     ``Just the head. Here comes the rest.''

     _``Feels_ bigger than it looks, and it looks pretty damn big  
already -- aah! You hit something.''

     I pulled back an inch, slid in again. ``There?''

     ``Yeah.''

     ``Just remember that spot when you go poking around inside  me,'' 
I said.

     ``Inside _you?_ Hey, _wow!''_

     ``How 'bout you? Still okay?'' I asked, beginning a slow, deep  
stroke.

     He nodded wordlessly, squirming up against each penetrating 
thrust  of my prong. His hands roamed across my back, then on down to 
my hips,  urging me deeper into his clutching passage.

     This time, there were no interruptions: I pumped steadily, 
conscious  of the warm, willing body under mine, conscious of the 
slowly growing  pressure down in the base of my thrusting shaft. This 
time, we just  let our bodies take their own time . . . until I neared 
the peak.

     ``Close?'' he asked.

     ``Close,'' I sighed.

     ``I can -- you know -- _feel_ you getting -- stirred  up: muscles 
tight, pumping faster, going deeper -- yeah! You're  turning me on, 
yeah!''

     ``Don't -- get -- too -- hot,'' I panted. ``Not  -- until --'' 
And suddenly I was coming, unloading deep  in his naked, squirming 
body; squirting jet after jet of thick sperm  into the young man 
impaled on my spike.

     Spent, I relaxed with a sigh, lay catching my breath, then 
straightened  my arms to lift my head and shoulders, and looked down. 
``Well?''

     ``Wow! It's -- it takes some getting used to but -- yeah,  it's 
-- wow,'' he sighed. ``He tightened himself around my  shaft, relaxed, 
and asked, ``Still hard?''

     ``You're so tight . . . there.'' I slowly eased my prong  out, 
rolled on my back, and relaxed. After a few moments, I sensed  
movement. I raised my head and saw the young man carefully lubricating  
his own hard shaft.

     ``Are you ready?'' he asked, a new confidence in his voice.

     ``Sure, stud.'' I spread my thighs wide, watched as he knelt  
between them. I raised my legs, knees bent; he steadied his shaft  
with his right hand, lifted my balls with his left, and found the  
opening into my hips with his glans. ``Take it easy when you first  go 
into me,'' I warned, as he eased himself in. ``After that,  once 
you're all the way, then I'm all yours, and . . .''

     ``Y-yeah.'' His face was tense, then slowly relaxed into a happy  
grin as his glans snapped through the ring of muscle that guarded  the 
way in. Inch by slow, cautious inch, he slid himself to the hilt  into 
me.

     When I felt his balls touch my butt, I tightened myself around 
the  base of his shaft, relaxed, then said, ``Ride me, kid; ride me  
hard!''

     And he did -- hitting me just right at the bottom of almost every  
stroke. Twice, he pulled back too far, but quickly found his  target 
and slid in deep again.

     ``I think -- I know -- why you -- sucked me off --  first,'' he 
panted.

     ``Yeah?''

     ``If I -- did this -- first,'' he panted, ``I'd have  -- gone off 
-- like a -- firecracker -- on the first --  fucking -- stroke -- just 
-- half-way -- in.''

     ``That hot?''

     ``Was then.''

     ``Now?'' I asked. ``Getting close?''

     He shook his head, but he was pumping harder and harder -- so 
hard  that my own shaft was stiffening up again. ``Just --  just 
enjoying -- the -- ride. Not -- trying -- just --  riding -- along.'' 
Suddenly, he focused his eyes on mine and  -- still thrusting steadily 
-- asked, ``Is that okay?''

     ``Sure -- why?''

     ``I didn't want to --''

     ``-- take too long? Look, kid: I _like_ getting fucked,  I'm used 
to getting a shaft rammed up my butt, and you're going in  just 
right.'' I twitched my own hard prong, twitched it again.  ``Feel 
that?''

     He straightened his arms, raising his chest and shoulders, then 
looked  down between our torsos and licked his lips. ``Yeah; I can see  
it too,'' he sighed, and dropped his chest onto mine again. ``You  
ready for another round already?''

     ``Just hard, not _that_ ready. And your ass needs  a couple days' 
rest after being pronged the first time. But after  that . . .''

     ``After that -- for sure,'' he said, speeding his stroke,  then 
gradually slowing to a stop. ``For fucking sure.''

     We lay, bodies linked by his shaft, for long minutes. ``Did you . 
. . ?''  I asked

     ``Yep.''

     ``I _thought_ your prong felt awfully slippery all of a sudden.''

     He grinned, licked his lips, and nodded. ``Being here -- being  
inside you, feeling your muscles under me -- I'm still turned on,  but 
. . .''

     ``I know, kid; I know.''

          * * 

*     A few days later, I found Chris -- alone this time -- at his  
favorite spot, near the rocks. ``How did it go?'' he asked,  as I 
stretched myself out on the sand beside him.

     ``I got him going, all right,'' I said. ``Only . . . ?''

     ``Only . . . what?''

     ``I feel like I turned a tiger onto those studs,'' I said, 
looking  back at the naked young men splashing in the surf and 
scampering along  the beach.

     ``A tiger? That young guy? But --''

     ``Here he is now,'' I said, catching sight of the young man  with 
the mouse-colored hair.

     ``Eric said I'd find you here,'' the young man said. His 
expression  was alert and eager, his shaft up and hard.

     ``Eric?'' I asked.

     ``Blond stud with a crew-cut; real good build, almost as good as  
yours. He -- we -- I think I kinda wore him out, yesterday,  and . . 
.''

     ``And here you are.'' I glanced at Chris. ``That was your idea.''

     ``But you're the one who . . .'' Chris licked his lips slowly.  
``Okay, we're both responsible.''

     ``So we've got to do something about him before he wears out  
everybody else on the beach, right?''

     ``There's two of us, and just one of him, so . . . so how about  
sandwiches, with him in the middle, and the two of us  taking turns 
being top and bottom?''

     The kid, who had been looking more and more worried, relaxed with  
an eager grin. I grinned back at him, looked at Christopher, and 
asked,  ``You want to be on top for this round?''

     Chris nodded. I handed the kid the lotion bottle, then stretched  
out on the blanket and rolled onto my back. The kid took the lotion,  
quickly greased himself, then Chris. I spread my legs, raised my 
knees.  The kid climbed aboard, entered me with a careful thrust -- he 
was  learning fast -- then looked back over his shoulder, watching 
Chris  mount and enter. I could tell when Chris slid his prong in: the 
kid  squirmed and his muscles went tight, but then his face relaxed 
into  a happy grin and his hips started pumping.

     Chris was grinning too, looking down over the kid's shoulder at 
me,  and I was grinning up at those two naked studs -- the kid, going 
deep  into me with every stroke; and Chris, who was fucking the kid, 
and the  kid squirming every time Chris hit bottom. And all the time I 
was  thinking what it'll be like later on, when I get to be in the 
middle --  and that _really_ turned me on.

   ==============================END==============================     



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