Flotsam

Flotsam

 I love the stories of Naughty Eric on GayDemon, and when he suggested he might appear in one of my own stories, I was honored to include him. This is a story I was already turning in my mind about a chance encounter in the long, hot summer of 1922. I can’t replicate Eric’s style but I’ve tried to capture some of his joyful embrace of man-on-man fucking, which I always find so sexy in his stories.

It was another hot summer afternoon with the family on Cape Cod. We had left Boston for the summer house a week ago, but I felt just as stifled here with the same dull round of social engagements. Tonight we were to have dinner with the Walshes, even though they lived just a few blocks away from us in Boston on Beacon Hill.

I went out onto the deck and ran my fingers again around my collar to let some air in.

There were three things I was working up to telling my family: that I was not going to propose to Selina Walsh, that I liked boys, and that I was going to leave Boston College in the Fall and transfer to Art School in New York.

 “Patrick!” My mother’s voice called from the living room, “Will you join us for some lemonade?”

I needed to get out. “No, I’m going down to the beach. I want to finish the sea-scape while the light is so perfect.”

“Well, don’t be late back. You haven’t forgotten the Walshes are coming for dinner?”

“I’ll be back.”

I changed into a loose shirt, collected my easel and paints and took the canvas that I had been working on. I set up in a spot in the dunes so I could be on my own. The light was perfect this time, slanting down onto the waves. I’d worked on the painting a couple days now, but I didn’t know how to finish it. I’d thought it was that the light hadn’t been quite right, but today seemed different.

I concentrated for a while, trying to get that splash of foam just right on the edge of the waves. When I looked up again, a boy of about my own age was standing about ten feet away. He was gorgeous. Maybe an inch or two under six feet with a slim, beautifully-proportioned body wearing loose pants and a cotton shirt like my own. He was smiling at me with a sweet, open face.

“Where did you come from?” I asked, thinking he might be  with of the family parties further down the beach.

“From there!” The boy waved his hand vaguely at the ocean. I wondered if he meant he was from one of the yachts or cargo boats.

His hair was bleached by the sun. In the light glancing off the water, it seemed almost white and other-worldly.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s a painting. Of the ocean.” It sounded silly.

“Can I be in it?” he said, as if it was a photograph.

“Yes, if you like.”

He pulled off his shirt. His skin was golden, with a light dusting of hair on his chest. No tattoos, so not a sailor then. But right now, I didn’t care about where he had come from. He was leaning back against a bleached tree trunk that must have washed up years ago. His chest flexed naturally as he lifted his head to look at me. His blue eyes were the color of the sea.

I swallowed hard and began to mix some white into my yellow ocher to get my brush towards that beautiful golden skin tone. I started to trace the muscular curve of his shoulder. When I looked up again, he was naked.

“You artist guys like to paint nudes, right?” he said, without any affectation.

I stared. He was so relaxed and natural as he leaned back. My eyes traveled to his cock. It had a nice shape, flanked by two low-hanging balls. The cock twitched. I looked up and I knew that he knew what I was looking at.

A big grin lit him up. “Do you want to paint me? Or have me? Either’s good!” The eager look on his face showed me which one he really wanted.

I crossed over to him and he took my hands and pulled me into him. His skin was warm with the sun and his lips tasted salty as I bent over him for a long, deep kiss. His tongue pushed into my mouth and swirled itself round mine. I pushed my tongue deep into his mouth and felt a shudder run through him. I could feel his nipples standing out hard as our chests pressed together.

I felt the sweat springing on me and I pulled my shirt over my head. He ran his tongue over my chest and licked his lips.

“Your sweat tastes great. I bet your cum does too”

I just stared at him. No one had ever used language like that to me before. He put his hand on the front of the loose-fitting linen pants I was wearing and gave me a big grin.

“I knew you had a big cock in there. It’s just what I like! I can’t wait to feel that big dick plowing my man pussy!”

The way he spoke was so sexy. I thought that you had to pay men to talk to you like that, but he was just a regular man looking for sex who knew exactly what he wanted. It was natural to him.

He dropped to his knees and mouthed my cock through my linen pants. The outline of it was wet with his saliva, but I knew that some of that wetness was leaking out of my slit.

“Such a big, hard cock! Do you want me to suck you?” He licked his lips again hopefully. His wet, pink tongue made my dick twitch. He was so direct. And of course I wanted him to suck me.

I nodded. He looked up at me with that sweet, natural smile and said: “Tell me what you want!” I was captivated by way he spoke.

“Take it out,” I told him. Then I tried again: “Pull it out, you sexy little bitch, and make sure you suck it properly.”

He did so eagerly, scrabbling at the fastening of my pants and yanking them down my thighs as my cock sprang out. He pulled back for a minute to admire my girth and glanced up at me with a cheeky grin.

“I was looking at that big dick for ten minutes before you saw me. Now I get to suck that monster.”

I knew I was big, but the way he talked about it made me so hard. All my blood was rushing to my dick. He wrapped his lips round my leaking glans and used his tongue on the tip, flicking over it and making muffled little noises of appreciation.

“That feels so good,” I said, “Now take it deep!”

The fellows at College complained that their girlfriends wouldn’t do this for them. More fool them—they should find themselves a boy like this one. He tilted his head to one side and ran his plump, pink lips up and down my shaft, looking up at me with those blue eyes. Then he took a breath and plunged his mouth all the way down. His lips formed a perfect seal and the way he sucked was almost unbearably pleasurable.

At the moment when I expected him to choke or gag something miraculous happened. His throat opened and I felt the head of my cock push past the restricting muscles. He swallowed it with such skill that for a moment I felt myself floating somewhere outside my body. Then I refocused on the way his mouth was awakening every nerve and blood vessel in me. He plunged his throat up and down, and when he came up for breath he looked up at me with his big blue eyes as if he was eating the most exotic meal in his life. It was the best blowjob I had ever had.

“Get on my balls!” I ordered him, and he switched seamless to sucking them. His warm, wet mouth enfolded them, and he moved between sucking and licking round the base of my shaft.

“I’m so horny for you,” he moaned with his mouth full, “I’m yours to fuck.”

I flipped him round and he braced himself on the driftwood.

I ran my hands down his back to feel the tautness of his muscles and then the contrasting give of his ass. His butt was big in comparison to his more slender frame. The pelt of hair on his thighs stopped at his ass cheeks, and they were smooth and perfectly textured.

His big ass stuck up in the air and his buttocks clenched and relaxed invitingly. I had studied plenty of male nudes as I taught myself to draw, but this was something else—so round and inviting. I gave it a tap with the back of my hand and it rippled deliciously. I squeezed a handful hard to savor the firm but yielding flesh.

He moaned happily and said: “Please eat my ass! I’d love to feel your tongue in there!”

The way he knew what he wanted turned me on so much. I pulled his ass-cheeks open to see his beautiful pink hole winking back at me. I buried my face in the cleft of his buttocks and breathed in that smell that was clean at dirty all at the same time. I devoured him. The tautness of his buttocks seemed to clamp onto my face and hold me in position. I licked along the length of his crack and then pushed my tongue against his anus. It was thrilling, the way he opened up to me. I fucked his hole with my tongue, getting deeper with each push into his body.

I saw his legs begin to quiver, and I knew it was time to move on. He needed something deeper than my tongue and my cock was so hard it ached to be used.

“Are you ready for me to fuck you?” I pushed in an experimental finger, and his anus ate it up.

“Oh yes! Put that horse cock in me! I bet not all men can take that monster”

He was right about that. My erect penis is long and thick. I’d had some frustrated encounters with College men who just couldn’t take it. I was pretty sure things would be different this time.

And they certainly were. His hole was wet with my saliva, but the head of my cock was just as wet in anticipation. I lined it up with his hole and leaned in. It felt as if that tight little pucker was drawing me in, slimy  with the spit from my mouth. There was a moment of resistance as I pushed past his first ring and on into the depths of him. Then my cock was welcomed in by the hot, wet spaces of his channel that clung to it just to give the perfect friction. His inner muscles had a life of their own, massaging my dick and helping it on its way in and out of his ass as I drove on.

I quickened my thrusts as the inner walls of his ass relaxed a little and his passage engulfed my cock with its heat.

He wasn’t afraid to tell me what he wanted: “Go deeper! I want to feel that big dick all the way up my cunt! Get it right in me!”

Something switched itself on in my brain with his dirty talk. I grabbed his thighs and let my pelvis take control of both of us, thrusting again and again into that hot, tight chute. I looked down to soak up the sight of my dick driving in and out of his plump ass. I pulled all the way out, just so that I could drive back in and hear my balls slap against him.

 As I fucked him harder, the breath seemed to leave my lungs with every time I went deep and slammed down on him.

“You like that, you little slut? You want more?” His butt wiggled joyfully and I gave it a hard smack.

“Oh yes, please!”  he moaned.

I gave him what he wanted. We were both sweating hard and my chest was wet on his back as the sun beat down on us. His arms were tiring, and they started to shake as he braced himself against the tree-trunk. I pulled him down and flipped him over on the sand with my discarded shirt beneath him.

He opened his legs wide. I knelt between them and pushed them back to raise his ass. His opening was swollen and puffy from my assault. I went more slowly this time, sliding fully in and out of him as I held his legs to keep him spread for me.  As I leaned forward to push back in, the sweat dripped from my face onto his chest.

He was moaning happily and keeping up a murmured stream of dirty talk. “Yes … like that … give me that big dick … make me your fucking bitch …!” It was obvious how much it turned him on—his own cock was hard and bouncing in response to my thrusts. He was so comfortable in his own body. My previous sexual encounters at College had been with men like me who were clumsier and more embarrassed.

I could feel my balls beginning to churn and I knew I was close. He could sense it too and looked into my eyes: “Please give me your hot cum,” he begged.

“Where do you want it?” I started to ask but I was already coming inside him. I shuddered over and over again as I pumped the biggest load of my life up into him.

I rocked back onto my heels and closed my eyes against the sun. When I opened them, his face was at my groin.

“May I clean it, Sir?” he said. He was so sweet and submissive. It was giving me ideas. I let him carefully take my dripping cock on his mouth, and then reached round with two fingers to pull some of my cum out his ass.

“Now clean yourself, you filthy little bitch.” I surprised myself at how naturally these phrases were coming to me.

He sucked my fingers obediently and I noticed again his perfect 7” cock twitching with enjoyment. I pulled him into me and grasped  it at the root.

“Do you deserve to come?” I asked.

“No, but I’d like to!”

His eagerness was irresistible. And he had more than earned this pleasure for the way he had satisfied me so much more than any other sexual encounter and the new feelings and ideas that were stirring in me. I spat into my hand, but it was already sticky with my own cum from his ass. As I stroked him I felt him swell and harden in my hand. A rope of white, pearly cum, almost translucent in the sunlight shot into the air and landed on both of us.

We both lay back, spent, cum-splattered, in the hot sunshine.

I realized I knew nothing about him. We had shared that intimate moment, but I had no idea who he was or where he had come from.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Eric.”

“Will you be here again?”

“Maybe. If you’re around with that big cock, sure!”

He picked up his clothes, gave me that big grin again and walked away in the direction of the ocean.

I turned back to my painting still on the easel. The figure I had started seemed somehow nearly finished. Surely I had just sketched in the shoulder and perhaps the curve of his arm. But there he was, leaning against the rock with the sun catching his perfect skin-tone. Maybe the sun had affected my memory. But had I really painted that beautifully-formed cock of his, erect in the middle of the painting?

I packed up the easel and paints and carefully covered the canvas with a cloth to carry it. I pulled on my shirt that now smelled of sand and sweat and semen.

Then I walked back to the beach house to tell my family who I was.