Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
From: nevyn@nahwaer.nacjack.gen.nz (Nevyn)
Subject: Sun of a Beach.
Date: Fri, 13 May 94 21:57:13 GMT+1

			    Sun of a Beach
				  by
				Nevyn.

	West Auckland is blessed with some of the best beaches in New
Zealand. Piha and Karakare look west from Auckland out to the Tasman
sea. Even on the hottest day, a fresh breeze drives the surf against
the rocky cliffs that frame each of these beaches. A short walk around
the cliffs takes you to other unnamed secluded beaches where few
people venture. One of these beaches set the scene for an afternoon of
very erotic play...

	Some InterNet correspondence with a friend of mine in Sydney,
Australia, led onward to flirting. I'm not ashamed of this; I'll flirt
with anyone. Keith reciprocated, and the intensity of the EMail
stepped up a notch. The letters began to contain references to what he
would like to do with myself, two randy giant dogs, and three of the
four basic food-groups. Eventually I ventured that if he were ever to
be passing through New Zealand, he would have a place to stay. His
next letter to me confirmed he had booked a two week trip to New
Zealand.

	Keith is `zoo' virgin. Although he has never had any
experience with animals, he was more than a little enthusiastic to
explore this aspect of his sexuality. We had discussed it at length.
InterNet gives a great opportunity to get to know a person well before
you meet them in the flesh (as it were). We had swapped photographs
and letters containing our deepest feelings, dreams and desires. I
knew him as well as I know any of my friends, yet we had never met.

	He arrived at Auckland International Airport at around 4:00pm
on the Saturday. His plane was delayed slightly, and I swear I paced
the length of the arrival hall 200 times in my nervousness and
impatience. Clearing of customs seemed to take forever; if you've
ever gone through customs in Auckland, you'll appreciate that estimate
probably wasn't too far wrong.

	When Keith finally walked through the portal defining the
opening to the arrival hall, we spotted each other at the same moment,
and both our faces broke into broad grins of recognition. He waded
though the crowd, and we hugged (in a non-sexual, brotherly kinda way,
so as not to offend the other patrons of the airport. (I'm older now.
Next time I'll say to hell with them and french-kiss him
passionately!)). He looked even sexier in person!

	There was a little tension between us, brought on by this
being the first time we had actually met face to face. Sure, we had
chatted on the phone, and some of those conversations could have
netted us hefty fines from Telecoms. But there was still something a
little awkward about actually being there in person with someone I had
been so intimate with in other ways.

	In anticipation of this exact situation arising, I had booked
a nice restaurant with sweeping views of Auckland's night-time vista.
By the time we had dropped his luggage off at my house, and we had
readied for the evening out, the conversation had thawed from
superficial chat about his trip over, to a more warm and friendly
dialogue.

	Keith and I had decided before-hand on a contingency plan.
There was a good chance that although we were infatuated with each
other electronically, the Real Thing might leave us both cold. So the
plan was: if we got on well together, Keith would stay with me at my
house, and if not, he would tour New Zealand and have a wonderful
holiday anyway. There was no pressure that `this had to work', so we
could be honest about our feelings and impressions. And if things went
well between myself and Keith, we would see how my other lovers,
Hamlet and Xanth, related to him. I'm happy to share my lovers as long
as my lovers are happy to be shared.

	A lovely meal, and a bottle of an excellent Fume' Blanc
(Longridge. 1989.) later, the conversation became a little more
intimate. The evening was perfect. It is rare everything gels so
completely: the waiters were charming, the food was perfect, and even
the wandering accordion player was entertaining but un-intrusive. And
of course the company was delightful. The last vestiges of discomfort
at meeting Keith in person melted away, and we passed the evening as
though we had been best friends for life, while the glittering jewel
that is Auckland scintillated before us...

	We left the restaurant arms locked around each others waist,
and somehow made it back to my house without ever seeming to stop
hugging. That night, we made love almost frantically.

	It's difficult to describe the feeling of security and warmth
of waking up next to a body you have spent such a wonderful and
fulfilling evening with. I snuggled up close to Keith, and we lay in
each other's arms for awhile.

	Hang on, hang on, I hear you say. Where were the dogs in all
of this? You don't know the meaning of the word "affronted" until
you've seen the look a Great Dane who is used to sleeping on the bed
can give, when he's relegated to sleeping on the floor for a night.

	Hamlet and Xanth both decided that 7:30am is ample lie-in for
humans, and made party noises until I left the embrace of my newest
lover to take them out and feed them. I love my dogs dearly, but they
can certainly show bad timing. When I returned to the bedroom, Keith
had already risen and was in the shower. I was a little disappointed;
sharing a shower with a friend is an excellent way to start the day.
Still, in the two weeks Keith stayed, I think we showered together
almost every morning.

	The following few days were a frenzied mix of wild sex with
Keith, and Keith watching as I had wild sex with the dogs. At that
stage, Keith was content to watch; we furthered his education
extensively. Evenings were spent in various states of sobriety,
shocking taxi drivers and living the hell out of Auckland.

	I think it was the Monday of the second week we decided to hit
the West Coast beaches. We packed the essentials into the van: Dogs,
towels, wine, junk-food, condoms, lube, sunscreen, and headed for Piha
beach.

	Although the weather over Auckland was overcast in a
threatening sort of way, local knowledge told me the weather on the
coast would be fine. Fine? That word doesn't come close to describing
the weather that day. The sky was an unbroken canopy of blue at Piha.
(The cloud-bank over the city was hidden behind the range of hills
surrounding the small township.) A faint breeze blew in from the sea,
and it was just enough to dispel the mugginess to keep the air fresh.

	The dogs were straining at the leashes as Keith and I crossed
the dunes and made toward the firmer damp sand. We let the dogs off,
and they ran around and around playing tag with each other, then
chased all the seagulls off the beach. There wasn't another person on
the whole beach. Being a Monday afternoon, this wasn't a big surprise.
The threatening weather over the city probably helped as well.

	The tide was about one third in, so we couldn't walk around
the cliff via the beach - we would have to clamber over the rocks to
follow a narrow and treacherous trail halfway up the cliff. Hamlet
bounded over the trail, but Xanth, my English Mastiff, had to be
helped up some of the steeper bits. I imagine we painted a fairly
comical picture, with Xanth struggling up the cliff-face, me
underneath pushing, and Keith above calling and encouraging her.

	After the crest of the trail, well above the water-line, the
downward trek was easier. Another beach lay before us, accessible only
from this trail, and also empty of people.

	Shade was provided by the lee of the opposite cliff, so I
could set up camp there. I looked up to see where Keith had gone, and
I saw him sprinting toward the surf. Hamlet and Xanth were in hot
pursuit. I glanced down to check the bottle of wine was in the shade
and then looked back toward the sea. Keith was lying face down in the
surf, spread-eagled, and the dogs were standing looking at him. He lay
for several seconds with the surf just washing his face, and I began
to get a little concerned. Then he slowly picked himself up and limped
back toward me. I realised I had forgotten to warn him that Hamlet is
an accomplished tackler.

	Keith had suffered quite extensive bruising to his pride, but
was otherwise mostly unhurt. His expression of such total persecution
as he sat on the blanket almost made me burst out laughing; it could
have put the affronted look of Hamlet to shame. So we drank some wine,
and soothed his ego in a warm balm of conversation, and ate our
snacks.

	We were sweating from the warmth of the day, and decided a
quick swim was called for. We shed our clothes and wandered down to
the tide in the nude. Keith had a great body. He was my height: 6'1",
and of similar build to me. He didn't have as much body-hair as I do,
but he was uncircumcised, as I was. I prefer my men uncircumcised (I'm
happy to make exceptions though!). We splashed around, and body
surfed. Xanth loves the water, and is more than half fish; Hamlet is a
big chicken, and would barely go in over his knees. No amount of
calling and cajoling would get him to enter the water where he
couldn't touch the bottom. Xanth swam around us perfectly at ease.

	The lure of sun-tanning called us from the water. Keith and I
headed back up the beach and lay on the blanket to dry. After a couple
of minutes, I grabbed the tanning lotion and rubbed it into his back.
Rubbing his back with my hands progressed to rubbing his whole body
with my whole body: I pressed my chest lightly against his back, and
slipped forward and back over him. Keith began to purr.

	Earlier in the week, Keith had introduced me to the exquisite
feeling that his tongue could induce around my anus. As he was clean
from his dip in the sea, I decided to return the favour. From the way
he was writhing in pleasure as my tongue worked around his anus, I
guessed I was doing OK.

	One of the useful things provided at the Hero festival
(Auckland's Gay street-parade and dance-party) was small `safe-sex'
packs. They contained a condom, and a small sachet of `Wet Stuff'
lubricant. I broke open one of these packs and rolled the condom onto
my dick. My fingers spread the lube around Keith's arsehole. One of my
fingers slipped inside him to loosen him up slightly.

	A quick glance around the beach confirmed that we were still
alone. The chance of discovery added an additional erotic element.
Feeling the warmth of the sun on my back, and the gentle caress of the
breeze against my balls as I eased my dick into Keith made the outdoor
sex a wonderful experience.

	We made love slowly. The tanning lotion on Keith's back gave a
wonderful feeling of oiliness on my chest against his back. Keith
raised his hips slightly to allow me to stroke his dick while I
screwed him. I kept the rhythm of sliding my dick into him slow, even
when I felt myself building to orgasm. And when I finally came, I
howled and growled with the intensity.

	I rolled off him and lay on the blanket. Keith raised himself
onto his knees and crawled over and kissed me. I eagerly let his
tongue explore my mouth while he gently took the condom from my dick.

	Hamlet had been roused from his dozing in the shade by my
howling, and came over to investigate. He sniffed the lubricant around
Keith's anus, and Keith jumped slightly at Hamlet's cold nose touching
him. I started to send Hamlet away, but Keith stopped me by kissing me
again. Then he stiffened suddenly as Hamlet began to lick around his
arse and balls.

	Keith slapped his thigh, and with a word of encouragement
Hamlet leapt up and grasped him around the waist. As Keith was
inexperienced, I knew I'd have to lend a hand. So I squirmed out from
under Keith, turned around, and wriggled back so my face was beneath
Keith's dick. Reaching up, I guided Hamlet's thrusting until he
connected with Keith's hole. I could clearly see Hamlet's dick slide
into Keith, and it was one of the most erotic sights I have ever seen.
The contrast of Hamlet's black ballbag meeting Keith's lighter-
coloured ballbag as he thrust was striking. A drop of precum oozed out
of Keith's dick and landed on my chin, so I raised my head slightly
and slipped his dick into my mouth.

	Keith was moaning long groans of pleasure. I could imagine
what he must have been feeling, with Hamlet pumping his arse as hard
as he could, and my sucking on his dick. I had to be careful to limit
Hamlet's thrusting so his knot wouldn't expand inside Keith, as that
would probably hurt Keith badly. When the knot had fully expanded, I
relaxed a little and let Hamlet hump harder. Watching from underneath,
that huge lump of flesh slapping against Keith's arsehole was arousing
me again.

	Hamlet slowed his thrusting. He stood with his dick as far in
Keith as he could (a good six inches). From the way his balls were
flexing, I could tell that he was cumming. Keith's moaning became a
long drawn out growl, and abruptly his dick flexed in my mouth. A rush
of warm liquid filled my mouth; Keith was cumming and I was drinking
him. He shook with the force of his orgasm. More cum spurted into my
mouth and I sucked it eagerly.

	When the waves of pleasure finally drained from him, he raised
himself slightly so Hamlet slipped from him and stepped back. Keith
collapsed on the blanket beside me, completely fucked out.

	I was horny again from watching those two and sucking on
Keith, so I called Xanth over. I should mention here that sex with the
dogs is the only way I can get aroused again so soon after cumming.

	Xanth and I are old lovers. She quickly trotted up, wagging
her tail. She licked my face to catch the last vestiges of Keith's
cum, then she turned and presented herself for me. I stood behind her
and bent over her back to hug her around the chest. My hands ran down
her belly and quickly over her nipples. They found the soft entrance
to her, and one finger slipped inside.

	I entered her easily and naturally. A dog's normal body
temperature is a degree or so hotter than a human body, and that
coupled with the tightness of her gave an erotic sensation along my
dick that is impossible to describe. I paused with my dick inside her,
just savouring the familiar feeling of my lover.

	It's difficult to remain at the half-crouch that is required
to enter her from behind, so I couldn't stay locked into her forever
as I would wish. I pulled back slightly and pushed back into her. As I
did so, she rocked her hips downward. We moved together in harmony
until I felt her muscles begin clenching on my dick. She lifted her
head and began smacking her lips noisily as she does when she's
cumming. Her pleasure was just the stimulation I needed to push me
into my second orgasm. I gripped her hips tightly and pushed into her
as hard as I could, then held myself there as I filled her with my
semen. Ahh sweet ecstasy.

	The pleasure slowly ebbed from me, and I fell to the blanket.
Xanth collapsed beside me and snuggled into my armpit, snorting. I
pulled close to Keith, and the four of us lay in the sun.

	Keith stayed for the rest of that week, then flew back to
Sydney. Yes, we DID make love often, and yes, the dogs WERE often
involved.

Nevyn, in the flesh.