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June 2008


Beach Nuts

by Fiona Glass


"Uh-oh, looks like we've got ourselves a nutter," said Jason, rolling over on the stripy beach-towel and prodding his lover in the back.

Mike gave a sleepy grunt.  "Old fish-face with the hat, you mean?  Yeah.  I noticed."

"Bit hard to miss, really."  Jason had been watching the man for the last ten minutes.  He'd arrived on the next sand-dune over dressed in vivid pink shorts, a t-shirt and a floppy pink sun-hat, all of which looked ungainly on his short, fat frame.  After a minute or two the t-shirt had come off.  Nothing wrong with that, Jason thought, although the man's lardy chest would have been better covered up.  But people who shouldn't strip off quite often did, and Jason could hardly blame the guy for wanting to catch some rays on a rare hot day.  The summer had been crap.

Only problem was, it didn't stop at the shorts.  Next, it was his socks, then the pink shorts.  And now the guy was parading up and down his dune clad in nothing but his birthday suit and the floppy pink hat.  Something else was pink and floppy too, and it didn't inspire Jason even though he liked men.

"Mike.  Mike, for God's sake, he's stark bollock naked."

Mike was made of sterner stuff, possibly because nothing much got past his six-feet plus of brawn.  "Oh, leave him be.  Probably how he gets his jollies - taking all his clothes off while someone's watching.  Bit sad, really.  He's probably lonely."

"Well I wish he'd go and be lonely somewhere else."

Mike didn't reply, and Jason thought perhaps he'd gone back to sleep.  His lover was lying on his front with his head pillowed on his arms and it was hard to see his face, but when he peered closely he saw Mike was staring at the naked man.  And his eyes were gleaming with a predatory look.

"Tell me you're not getting turned on by that," said Jason.

"Not really," said Mike with a guilty grin.  "I was just thinking, that's all...."

"Go on."  Jason was getting a bad feeling, which he nearly always did when Mike 'just thought'.  His other half could be mischievous to a fault, and Jason didn't always like the results.  Although sometimes, of course, he did.  "What have you got planned this time?"

"Oh, nothing much.  I was just... well, wouldn't it be good to put on a show of our own?  Give the guy something else to think about."

"Mike!  No!  That's awful.  We can't."

"You sure?"  Mike sat up, showing off a brawny chest and a fine pair of shoulders.  Jason felt himself waver.  He loved stroking Mike's chest, and there was a dusting of sand across the top of one pec, and it would be so good to lean over, ever so slightly, and brush it off.  And let his hand linger....  "Damn you, I'm sure," he growled.

Mike grinned.  "Sure you're sure?  Absolutely, positively, convinced?  Of course, if you are, I won't say another word.  But...."  He seemed to notice where Jason's gaze was fixed and glanced down.  "Oh, I've got some sand on myself.  Hang on."  His hand hovered over his chest, and Jason felt his own fingers tingle in sympathy.  The skin would be warm from the sun, and the sand would tickle, and....

"Damn you," he said again, but this time with a whimper.  He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the sensations spreading through his body - the heat at his groin, the tugging of his cock as it tried to rise inside his shorts, the sudden dryness of his mouth.  Mike's body, so close, just asking to be touched.  Mike's hand, which had trailed down to flick over one dark nipple.  Mike's tongue, licking his full pouty lips.

Jason gave in.  Knocking Mike's hand aside he began to brush off the tiny grains of sand, knowing they were just an excuse to touch.  The skin was not just warm but hot enough to scorch his fingertips, but he didn't pull away, savouring the feel of firm muscle beneath the skin and the sense of barely-concealed strength.  

Mike obviously approved too.  He wound one hand in Jason's hair and yanked him close, then kissed him wetly on the mouth.  The other hand, meanwhile, burrowed inside Jason's shorts, fingers seeking then wrapping themselves round his cock.

"Unhh," said Jason, losing the ability to speak or even think.  "Mustn't....  Stop."

"Don't worry, I won't," said Mike, and kissed him again.

Jason struggled ineffectively against his lover's bulk.  "No.  Not... what... meant."  But Mike wasn't listening, and those fingers were playing his cock like a flute, and any minute now he was going to make sweet music.  "Oh God."

"Like that, do you?" Mike murmured, his lips moving against Jason's mouth.

"Yeah, but....  Mike!  Someone might see!"

But Mike shook his head and carried on.  "Don't worry, there's nobody about.  Only old fish-face and last time I looked he couldn't get himself dressed fast enough.  Now stop squirming and let me get at you."

"Yes, sir," said Jason, and melted against his lover's chest.  Mike's hand was on him again, pulling and squeezing just the way he liked, and he could feel his climax coming like an express train.  Vaguely he was aware of a small fat man striding past, pink hat flopping in the breeze.  Even more vaguely he heard the man yell "Nutters!" as he passed, but did his best to ignore it.  A tiny corner of his brain muttered that the man had got what he deserved and might think twice about parading round naked in a public place again.  And Mike's hands felt so very, very good....

 


©  2008 Fiona Glass



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