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This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay 🏳🌈 ) sexual content, both implied and explicit. 🔞 Reader discretion is advised. The names, ages, circumstances, parties, and locations mentioned in this narrative are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual individuals is purely coincidental. This story is a product of the author’s imagination. The author does not endorse any products or entities mentioned herein.
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A gay summer Holiday – Chapter 5
• Time to enjoy myself.
Chris needed a short break from the grind at the old World War II officers’ complex, and he couldn’t imagine a better escape than Jelmer’s small farmhouse. He’d known the twenty-year-old man for over a decade, but those years were just a blurred collection of happy holiday memories.
They spent that decade doing naughty things, as all young boys do when no one is around to supervise. But, he’d only truly met the real Jelly-Belly after the man had declared his love for him. Things progressed fast from that point on.
Christopher felt right at home. The men got on marvelously, sharing everything from the chores to the sweet-smelling sheets, even reaching the point where they began finishing each other’s sentences. They were clearly in love, despite having only been dating for one short, intense week.
Chris could easily see a future here, tucked away in the center of the Island. The vibe near the mudflats that stretched toward the mainland was different — more ‘industrious’ and rural than the tourist-packed sandy North Sea coast.
However, Chris was still determined to become an engineer, a dream that couldn’t be realized on this patch of sand. He feared their relationship was a ticking clock, destined to end the moment his working holiday was over.
Jelmer clearly noticed the silence eating at Chris. It was their first morning sharing the farmhouse bed after their first real date, but the air was thick with more than just the scent of naked man-musk.
“Chris, buddy, what’s wrong?” Jelmer asked.
Chris sighed, the reality of the mainland crashing into their island bubble. “I’m terrified this can’t last. I’ve got four months before technical college starts, Jelmer. I’m going to be an engineer. This... dating thing — long distance is never ideal.”
Jelmer’s grip tightened, his body tensing against Chris’s side. “Fuck, Chris. I’m not letting go of you. I need you.”
“Then you’d have to move to the mainland,” Chris said, his practical mind already mapping out the impossible. “But I won’t be the one to pull you away from the Island, Jel. Or I’ll be a weekend ghost, commuting back and forth until we burn out.”
Jelmer went quiet, his eyes searching Chris’s face for a sign that he was more than just a summer distraction. “I’d follow you to the end of the world. If only to be able to do this,” he whispered, sliding down the sheets to take Chris’s morning wood into his mouth.
“Fucking hell — yeah,” Chris moaned, his fingers tangling in Jelmer’s hair. “I can’t do without your ass either, but the dilemma’s still there. God, you blow a nice cock.”
Despite the heat of Jelmer’s mouth, Chris’s thoughts remained anchored to the future. Sensing the shift, Jelmer pulled back, and they lay side-by-side in the quiet bedroom.
“We’ll take it one week at a time,” Chris decided, trying to ground them both. “We’ve got four months to solve the puzzle.”
Jelmer grinned, the mood shifting back to the present. “So, what do you want to do today, mate? We can’t lie in bed fucking all day.”
“No? But we can damn sure try,” Chris laughed. He lunged, pinning Jelmer to his stomach on the mattress and riding his semi-stiff prick through his buddy’s butt crack. Jelmer arched his back, shoving his ass into the air to welcome the friction.
Chris noticed Jelmer was getting horny again, primed for another round, and the sight of that hunger turned him on just as much. He kept pressing his cock against Jelmer’s bum, and his buddy teased him, rotating his ass in a slow, inviting grind. Chris pushed himself up, spat on his palm to slick his dick, and pressed the raw heat of it against the opening. Jelmer didn’t hesitate; he opened his sphincter wide.
With a guttural grunt, Chris launched himself forward. Jelmer let out a sharp cry — a mix of raw pain and the piercing pleasure of being penetrated roughly once more. By now, Jelmer’s hole was beginning to know the feel of Chris’s eight-and-a-half-inch girth, and he took the invasion well.
Once Christopher was buried deep inside his favorite ass, he pinned Jelmer to the mattress. He held himself still for a heartbeat, savoring the tight clench, before letting up on the pressure just enough for Jelmer to slide back up. His buddy started bouncing fast, his ass working the rock-hard cock like a pro basketball athlete in a rhythm he didn’t want to break.
Jelmer’s breath hitched, turning into a series of loud, frantic moans. He begged Chris not to stop. The sensation was too good, and he gave Chris total control over his body. Christopher was splitting him in two, driving a pace so rough and fast it made Jelmer’s head spin. He came hard, the friction pushing him over the edge.
“Oh fuck yes!” Jelmer screamed. “Split me in two — oh, hell! I love your big cock — God, you’re so fucking deep inside me! Fuck me!”
Jelmer dumped his first sticky load of the day onto the sheets. Chris finally released his grip on the sweaty bubble butt. He dropped his weight onto Jelmer’s back, heaving for air while his tongue found the salt on his neck, his hips still pounding a steady, brutal rhythm into the man beneath him.
Christopher clamped a hand over Jelmer’s throat and squeezed the airway, making Jelmer choke and gurgle as he slammed his dick in deep. He held the position, savoring the friction, but stopped just before he shot his nut.
It took both men a good ten minutes before they moved again. Chris was finally limp enough to slide his manhood out of the pulsing back door. He licked the salt off Jelmer’s sweaty neck, groaning and mouthing dirty words into his lover’s ear.
“Fucking shit — that… oh God. You were amazing, Chris,” Jelmer panted. Chris leaned over, kissing him deeply and pulling him into a possessive hold.
The guys hauled themselves into the shower together, the steam filling the small stall as they rinsed away the morning’s mess.
“So…” Jelmer started, leaning back against the tiles, “… have you decided what we’re doing today? Besides fucking the shit out of me.”
“Well, it’s been a hell of a week,” Chris laughed, the hot water hitting his tense shoulders. “But I haven’t even seen the waves hitting the beach yet. Officially, my holiday doesn’t start until I see the North Sea sandbanks.”
“Cool. Let’s do it. We’ll grab lunch at your uncle’s hotel on the beach, then trek across the shore to the next village. We can loop back through the forest to the windmill — they’ve got a cranberry cheesecake there that’ll change your life. How’s that for a cardio workout?”
• May 9th, 9:45 AM. At Jelmer’s place.
Well, a short holiday is in order. Things are finally set in motion at the bunkers, so it’s time to ‘enjoy’ myself, just like Aunt Dianna said. Jelmer is smitten. I can tell. Me? I’m not quite there yet. I like the man — I like him a lot — but let’s see if we’re actually compatible first. He invited me over to get me away from the biker drama. The sweet fool.
It was one of those bastards who put me on this path on the ferry in the first place, but so far, I only see the upside of being gay. Somehow, there’s just less pressure during sex with men.
The plan was set. They spent the rest of the morning lounging around the farmhouse before catching the bus toward the North Sea Hotel. It was a beautiful day, though the water was still far too brisk for a swim in the North Sea. They dressed lightly, wearing sneakers they could easily kick off for a stroll through the surf. Jelmer decided to break in one of the leather jackets he’d snatched from the nasty bikers; he still hadn’t forgiven them for trying to abuse little Peter.
“Man, you look damn cool in that second skin, Jel,” Chris remarked. Chris himself opted for his leather jeans paired with a denim jacket over his bare chest, looking more like a tourist than a rugged Islander for once. Both of them felt the vibe, hidden behind sunglasses and baseball caps as they headed out for the afternoon.
At the North Sea Hotel, the guys treated themselves to a luxurious lunch. The head Chef, Uncle George, served them a new experimental dish he was perfecting. They both polished off their plates, grading the meal a solid eight out of ten before settling the tab and telling George they were headed out for a long stretch on the beach.
The two men had the most fun together, running and joking around in the surf as they headed east. About fifteen minutes in, they were greeted by the same family Chris had looked after during that brutal ferry crossing. The young boy called out and sprinted toward them, his arms outstretched.
“Hey, buddy! Having a nice holiday?” Chris called out, catching the kid and spinning him around in the air.
“Aww… now I’m jealous,” Jelmer teased.
“I saw you on TV, Chris! You sang really nicely,” the boy said, looking up at Chris with pure awe. His parents and little sister nodded in agreement, clearly having enjoyed the local broadcast from The Whaler. The group chatted for a while, and soon enough, Jelmer was down on the sand with the kids, helping them engineer a sprawling sandcastle.
Chris asked the parents where they were staying, and they pointed out a beach house they’d rented near the North Sea Hotel.
“Tell the Chef that you two are my first loves,” Chris told the kids with a wink. “And tell Chef George that Chris said you deserve an extra big dessert.”
They spent a little longer with the family, kicking a ball around and fighting with a kite in the coastal breeze before finally saying their goodbyes.
They continued along the beach, holding hands and bumping shoulders in the sun. “Gosh, I felt like a kid again. Nice people,” Jelmer said, sounding genuinely happy. Chris explained the details of their meeting and how he’d stepped up to care for them during the rough crossing.
“Again… I’m jealous!” Jelmer joked.
“Don’t you worry, love. I’ll take care of you, too,” Chris laughed. He stopped Jelmer dead in his tracks, dropping to his knees on the sand. Chris made quick work of the zipper, using his lips to tease Jelmer’s cock free from the denim.
Jelmer shoved Chris back and raced into the dunes, shouting into the wind about being hunted by a sex-crazed maniac. They scrambled over the first ridge, finding a secluded kilometer marker. Jelmer whipped himself out again, and Chris picked up exactly where he’d left off, working Jelmer’s nipples through the open leather as he took him into his mouth. Then Jelmer spun around, dropped his pants to his knees, and braced his hands against the marker. “Fuck me!” he screamed. “Fuck me good!”
Chris spat on the opening, rimming Jelmer until he was slick and yielding. He pressed his rock-hard length against the throbbing sphincter. With a deep, guttural sigh and a string of dirty talk, the cock vanished inside. Chris started with a steady rhythm before shifting into a jackhammer pace, pounding into Jelmer’s gut until he filled him with a heavy load. With his dick still buried deep, Chris reached around to jack Jelmer off, milking him dry right there in the sand.
They lingered in a tangle of limbs and kisses, the scent of the leather jeans and salt air turning Jelmer’s head.
“God, I fucking love your leathers,” Jelmer groaned, rubbing his hands over Chris’s ass. “I want more of this. I’ve always dreamed of a wild, kinky leather party... serving your cock in a pair of chaps.”
Chris gripped Jelmer’s face, kissing him with a sudden, possessive passion.
“I’d love that. Dominating a hotty like you... an all-night rave in a public place, draped in leather,” Chris mused aloud.
“Oh God... Sir, yes please, Sir!” Jelmer gasped, his eyes bright with excitement.
The guys drifted back toward the deserted shoreline. Chris slid his hand from Jelmer’s shoulder down to his horny ass, and Jelmer obliged by popping the top button of his jeans, giving Chris an open invitation. Chris hooked a finger into his boyfriend’s wet hole as they paused for another sweat-stained kiss.
“It’s all yours, Sir,” Jelmer whispered against his lips. “Do me as you see fit… but do me good.” He pulled back, chest heaving. “But first, I need to piss.”
They followed the dune path toward the town, passing empty bike racks and a ghost-town parking lot until they reached a concrete public toilet block. Chris sat outside in the sun, but when the minutes stretched on, he headed inside to check on him.
He found Jelmer cornered by three German bikers in their forties, clad in loud, colorful gear. They were hairy, thick-waisted, and—as Chris noted with a quick glance—hardly well-endowed. Jelmer’s body language wasn’t fearful, though; he was playing the part, leaning into the rough attention. The bikers turned their sights on Chris as he entered, grabbing at his leathers.
“Leave my friend alone… what do you think you’re doing?” Chris demanded, though he winked at Jelmer. They played along, letting the Germans believe they had total control. Chris was forced to watch as the three took turns with Jelmer. Once they’d had their fill, the bikers hurried out, leaving the two alone.
Chris and Jelmer burst into laughter. “I hardly felt a thing,” Jelmer joked, adjusting his clothes. “Man, those fat guys were tiny.”
“Is that so?” Chris grinned, grabbed Jelmer, and shoved him into a toilet cubicle. “Let’s see if you can feel this.”
He pushed him onto the dirty toilet and hiked Jelmer’s legs up. The jeans slid up as Chris began pumping into his hole again. The cubicle walls were scarred with heavily graffitied glory holes, and the sound of their rhythmic carnal slamming echoed through the tiled room. A group of five senior scouts, all around eighteen or nineteen, filtered into the restroom. They stopped dead, watching through the gaps and holes as Chris claimed Jelmer right in front of them.
Jelmer pointed out that they’d gathered an audience, his voice dropping into a dirty rasp as Chris rammed his hot hole deep. Chris didn’t hesitate; he ripped the cubicle door open and seized the nearest Scout by the scruff of his neck, hauling him down to the floor between Jelmer’s raised legs.
“Let me give you a better look! Lick that hole!” Chris commanded, shoving the Scout’s face against Jelmer’s pounding ass.
“Did you boys get your ass-fucking badges yet?” Jelmer asked, eyeing the other four through the glory hole.
The dirty Scouts all had their dicks in their hands, looking bewildered by the question.
“The man asked you a question. Do you have your ass-fucking merit badges yet?” Chris barked. They sheepishly muttered no.
“Well, do you want to earn them today?” Chris asked sternly. He pulled the Scout away from Jelmer’s ass and lined the five of them up. “Take those cargo shorts off, men! Let’s see what we have to work with — or leave now if you don’t have the stomach for it. It’s your choice.”
One of the five moved to bolt, but his friends held him back. They dropped their pants as ordered, revealing rock-hard members to the older pair.
“Nice, big boys,” Jelmer purred. “Now, put a wet finger in the asshole of the buddy to your left,” Chris ordered. The Scouts cringed but complied as Jelmer took his place at the end of the line. Jelmer sank his own wet fingers deep into his bum, and the five guys let out a collective moan.
Jelmer told the Scouts to mimic him. As he massaged his own prostate, the boys copied the motion on their neighbors. With their free hands, they began to stroke themselves. Chris then ordered them to masturbate the guy to their right while maintaining the ass play.
The air grew thick and heavy as Chris began sucking them off one by one. As Chris moved to the second Scout, Jelmer slid behind the first, rolled a rubber over his cock, and entered him softly. He worked the line, opening their virgin asses with careful precision.
The senior Scouts were losing themselves in the impromptu lesson. Once Jelmer had moved down the line, the boys began to fuck and suck each other in a frantic heat. Jelmer turned his attention back to Chris, taking him roughly. Chris felt his ass take a beating as Jelmer barebacked him, the Scouts mimicking their aggressive pace.
The restroom dissolved into a hot public orgy, a tangle of limbs, sweat, and leather. Finally, Chris and Jelmer ordered the scouts back into a line — on their knees, mouths open, and eyes closed. They showered the boys with heavy loads as a final ‘merit badge’ for the day. The Scouts continued their play as Jelmer and Chris pulled up their pants and slipped out, laughing.
“That was fun… we’re good teachers,” Jelmer joked.
“You mean we were a bad influence on those guys…” Chris agreed jokingly as they ducked into the woods, walking toward the next town. Under the canopy of trees, they spotted a heterosexual couple making love against an old oak. They stopped at a distance, rubbing their tender cocks through their pants. When the couple noticed them and offered an invitation, the guys just declined with a smirk and kept walking.
“Come on, I want to buy you a cranberry beer and a cheesecake… the local windmill was converted into a cranberry bar and tasting room,” Jelmer explained.
• Dear Diary: May 8th, Cranberry Cheesecake.
All these years on the Island, and I never had a cranberry cheesecake. The tourist thing is a welcome change. The tart cake could have used a little extra whipped cream, though. Ha. As if I hadn’t had my fill of whipped cream today?!
I don’t know why, but sex with guys is much more direct. If you want to fuck, there always seems to be a guy around willing to open a hole or two. Compare that to the girls in the city. Take them to a dinner and a show, and you’re still left hanging. Or worse — talking about feelings that haven’t developed yet.
No, I think I’m on the right path here. Tricky, with a steep learning curve, but fucking fun. Those scouts were our age, and they just had the time of their lives. I could tell a few of them will still be going for pussy, but at least now they can’t say they haven’t tasted dick. Learning new stuff is fun!’
Cranberries were the lifeblood of the Island, though they’d only arrived by a stroke of lucky ‘jetsam’ over a century ago. A beachcomber had found a crate from a shipwreck, hoping for casks of wine, but he’d found the extremely tart berries instead. Disappointed, he’d dumped them into the dunes, where the wild soil let them thrive. Now, every year, a crowd of locals harvests the cultivated berries and turns the fruit into every imaginable drink and dish for the tourists.
The guys ate and drank in the belly of the converted grain mill before catching a cab back to Jelmer’s place in the late afternoon. They spent the following evening and the entire next day lounging around the farmhouse. They kept things quiet, doing the odd job and fixing up the house together. On Wednesday, they returned to the project early, only to discover that the crew hadn’t exactly sat still during their forty-eight hours off.
The group had stripped the interiors of all thirty cabins. They’d been far too rough, inadvertently ripping up the lawns and the brick paths in their haste. Since that wasn’t part of the plan, Chris gave the guys and girls a stern reprimand.
They offered their apologies, and Christopher immediately pivoted, putting them to work on a specific recovery task. He ordered them to clear the lawns and stack the bricks in neat piles on the terraces. While they cleaned up the mess, Chris, Jelmer, Skippy, and Jan-Timo would head to the mainland for a couple of days to secure more building supplies and a little bro-bonding.
• Continued in chapter 6 •
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© StrykerJ - February 2026
