The Lifeguard and the Hunk

The Lifeguard and the Hunk

An Eaglet Story

Eaglet stories are written in collaboration with another author. This one was just in time for summer, and was inspired by a photo of a guy at the beach.

One of my favorite things to do as a lifeguard is people-watch - OK, it's really.....admiring the hot muscled bodies of shirtless hunks doing whatever they like in the sun. The skin glistening from tanning oil, sweat, or just sea water. Even better at my beach, a university was located just 10 minutes away, so by the time summer break came, there were plenty of young hunks in thin trunks and bulging speedos. It gets a little hard when all you're wearing is a pair of red speedos.

Today, I stepped out of the post to the balcony to look at the view. There weren't too many people in the water as it was still before noon. I heard a bunch of laughter and turned my head to find a couple of college kids setting up. Two of the guys started to toss a football. One of them really caught my eye. He had dark hair, and a boyish face, but his body was big and muscled. He was wearing a tight grey T-shirt and navy blue swimming trunks. Then, he whipped off his shirt and I can see his well-muscled body, like a fitness trainer. His perfectly sculpted body must get a lot of attention.

He was obviously no stranger to the sun – his smooth, ripped torso shone in the bright sunlight, accentuating every cord and rip as he bounded about chasing the football. When he threw I could see his dark-furred pits, already with enough sweat sheen to make my nose imagine I could inhale his male essence. He was the tallest of the pair of college guys, looking like he would be lanky if he didn’t work so hard to muscle-up his bod. Long, well-sculpted legs flailed about as he dove for the ball, and I had filthy thoughts of those muscular calves and thighs raised high and wide.

The other one tossed the football long and it fell close to the station. I saw the young hunk shagging it over here, carefully eyeing his bulge for some bouncing. As he approached, I walked over to the other balcony ledge, and said to him down below, "hey can you come inside the station for a bit? I just need to make sure you guys are following all the rules of the beach and all. You know, standard stuff."

"Sure," he said. He called out to his buddies, "One sec, gotta talk to the lifeguard!" He came up the deck and I ushered him to the door to our small windowed station. It was a small room with just a few desks, a couch, some side tables, not much. Just a place to catch a breather at times and to coordinate with other lifeguards. At the back end, there was more privacy, as you had to come up to the station and look through the windows to see all the way in.

He entered, and I closed the door behind. My eyes went straight to his hot ass as he went inside first. He turned around and said, "So, what do I need to do?"

It took me a second to answer him because when he turned around, I almost bumped into his hard chest and body. I was very close, and he noticed and said, "hello??"

I snapped out of it and confessed, "I have to be honest. There isn't really anything you or your buddies need to be aware of......or sign or anything. I really just....wanted a closer look....at you....and your body."

I didn't know how he would react. He folded both his arms to his chest, which made him almost flex. I was nervous he was gonna curse at me. Instead, he gave a small smile. "Uh, thanks....well, I do work hard. But sorry, I'm not, uh, into guys"

"Oh, of course, yea. Sorry, I don't know what came over me. I guess I couldn't resist when I saw you come here. My eyes were on you since you arrived."

"Ha", he gave a quiet chuckle.

He put one of his arms behind his neck. He looked so sexy doing that. I hope he didn't notice I was chubbing up in my lifeguard speedo - he's straight so he shouldn't look there, right.

"You know, your body is just so perfect. It's actually very distracting, which is bad news for me, because I need to be focusing on maintaining the safety of all the beach goers." He seemed to understand and was nodding along as I spoke. Maybe this hunk would be open to me just touching him? "If I could just....touch your back and biceps....that would get me some relief. I just have to rely on my imagination and it goes wild - you know how it is with us guys and all."

He gave another forced chuckle and said, "......well, I'm not really into that...but...if it's just a quick touch...then it should be fine."

As he spoke, my dick lurched in my speedo. Again, there's no way he noticed, no matter how blatant it was. Instead, he held eye contact and for longer than I was comfortable. I finally connected my wildly wandering thoughts to my feet and moved behind him. His V-shape was even more awesome from behind, and just as I went to touch him he raised his arms in a double-guns flex that accentuated every perfectly-pumped muscle in his back. “Like this?” he asked without a hint of suggestion.

“Yes, I LIKE!” I couldn’t help but utter, and that, finally, got a very slight chuckle out of him.

He uttered under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear, "of course you would".

Still, the moment dragged before I finally reached out with a trembling hand and, first with just my fingertips, ran my hand over the ridges of his magnificently melon-like right delt. He didn’t move and held his pose, and I let my fingers trail down a little and loop into the crevice of his slightly moist armpit. At that he flinched and laughed and told me he was ticklish “there”. Then he surprised me and said, “Just warn me first.”

I uttered an apology and moved my hand to and over his trap, including my other hand on his other trap. He re-assumed his flex pose, and the feeling of his muscles moving under my touch was electrifying . . . to my barely-contained cock! But I didn’t stop and proceeded to use my whole hands to knead his traps and then run them both down the plains of his delts again and lats and along his tight waist and back up again. Through it all, he remained motionless and silent, just his breathing, backed by the surf outside. I ran my hands up his lats and wrapped my fingers around his sides to graze his perfectly-carved abs and then his slab pecs. “Armpit alert!” I called as my hands moved up his pecs.

“It’s cool,” he allowed, so I pulled my hands back just enough for my fingers to slip up into those warm, moist pits and to feel his tight skin, warm, hot pit fur and to enjoy the depths of him. He moved only slightly, the bare beginning of squirming, but he held position. When I could no longer contain myself I pulled my fingers back and inhaled as quietly and quickly as I could, savoring in a dick-throbbingly good moment his musk.

I quickly covered by putting my hands on his corded neck. I ran my hands back over his traps and delts and then felt each softball-sized upper arm muscle mass, bis and tris. I could go on all day.

"How about I apply some sunblock on you? You know, since I'm touching you already..."

"Might as well I suppose"

"Ok great," I squeezed some lotion on my hand. "Well, I'm going to rub it all over if that's OK."

"Yeah, I figured."

He lowered his arms to his sides, enough away from his body to enable me to smear him up. With the lotion warm on my hands I retraced my hands’ earlier exploration. I went first to and over his traps and magnificent delts and then down without indulging my fixation on his pits this time. I snaked my fingers around to his pecs and felt that his nipples are coming to attention. “A lot of people don’t know that the skin on their nipples can burn to a crisp,” I tell him, all the while massaging the lotion in and around. His groan of acknowledgment could easily have been a moan of enjoyment, if his nipples’ hardness was any indication. 

I decide not to press my luck and get some more lotion and again from behind go down over the cobblestones that are his abs. My own breathing is labored; the feel of him is almost more than I can bear without going too far, too fast, or both!

One of my hands goes a little lower on his back, right above where his globes start to form. I see him turn his head, but he didn't protest or say anything.

"Hey, you have some very well-built thighs and lower back. Do you mind if I just take a quick feel?"

He didn't answer at first but eventually said, "...ok just for a second."

I stepped in closer and maneuver my hands rub over his magnificent bubble buttglobe and then, with another half-step, simultaneously grab his buttcheek and rub my Speedo-trapped hardon into the sinew of that magnificent glute. He is magnificent in my hands . . . and against my throbbing cock. I gently move one of my hands to his other glute, the heel of my hand bumping against my hardon in the process and almost blowing my tenuous hold. I have to force myself not to hump into him!

"You know you deserve to be worshiped this way. You have one of the best bodies I've seen on this beach," I was trying to play to his ego so that he would be more willing to let me "admire" him. "I can tell you have a great backside, but it's hard to feel through the swimming trunks. Would you mind if I just stuck my hand inside for a second?"

He turned his head and almost did a double-take. "Well.....only for a second." I was beginning the key word was to make him think everything was just for a second, because that would be "fine", right?

I reluctantly relinquished my squeeze on his cheeks and then gently slid my hands down inside. The hardness of his glutes could be him flexing, but he’s completely relaxed, despite the incursion. Damn what those must feel like clenched and flexing as he’s getting himself filled with . . . I force my mind back into control. 

"You wanna just take these off? I want to admire your.......thighs..." I didn't want to freak him out that all I really wanted to see was his cock.

"Nah, I think I want to keep them on." I might have been losing him. Think quick!

"If you can just take them off, you would really be helping me out here. I could get out of my system and not be distracted by you. I want to be able to do my job well, and I'm sure you're aware of how attractive you are, so if I could just get a quick look instead of having to imagine..."

He twisted his mouth to his side and brought his hand to his chin, as though this was a tough decision. "...well, ok, just a quick peek, OK? Just for a sec, right?" I had to stifle a guffaw at his use again of the safe words. He turned around facing me and dropped his trunks slowly.

He was nicely hung, thick, cut by an artist not a butcher and had a full bush of thick, dark pubes to match his pits and hair. His balls are big and hanging low under his dangling cock. He is no doubt the envy of the locker room. 

I reach my hands out and encircle his tight waist, wanting but restraining myself from letting them wander down to his heavy hanging cock. My hands on his waist move only slightly, enjoying the hardness of his muscular groin and his cut obliques.

I can’t contain myself any longer and fall to my knees facing that magnificent piece of man meat.

"Hey, what are you doing??"

"Just relax. I just want a closer look. It's so nice.....I'm sure it is huge when it's hard. Have you ever measured it?"

"Uh...... no." I can tell he was starting to get uncomfortable.

"Can you make it just a little bigger? It looks like it would grow a lot." I was trying to make HIM want to fluff it up a bit.

"Ok fine," he said, bringing his hand over and squeezing and tugging it.

My face was close enough that his hand stroking his soft cock  that I can smell him, smell the smell of a cut cock that, while not as distinct as an uncut cock, is both unmistakable and enticing. And, as he settled into a rhythmic stroke, his cock finally responded.

"Wow, I was right. It's getting....a lot bigger. Can you make it get as big as you can?"

He continued his stroking, and he only broke his rhythm long enough to spit in his hand and then coat his head and lengthening, thickening shaft. His hand began paying more attention to his bulbous head with each stroke, and his breathing responded to every swipe over that helmet. It was BIG . . . and he was enjoying himself, finally getting lost in the moment. I wondered when he’d cum last.

I know I needed to make a move or he would be freaked out and just run off at any moment. As he began to close his eyes, I took the chance to grab his dick, putting my other hand on his ass so he didn't back away immediately.

“Whoa, dude!” he nearly shouted, yanking back his hand the moment it touched mine, seeming as freaked by that as by my hand on his cock and my other restraining him. “Th--is wa—s--n’t—“ he stammered and tried futilely to move back against my hold on his butt. It was now or never, and I leaned in and engulfed his manhood fully, feeling him tense, try to buck back harder to no avail . . . and feel his cock throb and leave a big glob of his pre on my tongue.

“Dude!” he protested, a bit feebly, as I began to work my mouth up and down his length. “Dude, I, uh, I don’t—“ but the moment I had him in my throat his protest went to a long moan.

I felt his body’s tension vanish, as had his words. And I went to town on that iron hard manpole of his. It was no time before he began subtly thrusting into my mouth, meeting my own strokes. And when he finally put, first, one hand, and then, his other on my head and started to skullfuck me I knew he’d crossed over and was going to let himself go regardless of the gender of his cocksucker.

I tickled his taint and hole, and he was too far gone to make the slightest protest when my finger found that hole. He just went with it.

It didn’t take all that long, honestly. I didn’t want it to. I just wanted him to get off this way, with a guy sucking him off, against his best intentions. He was a young stud and blew a wad big enough with a long, stifled moan that told me he really needed his nuts drained. And I sucked him until he shoved me off as he shrieked because it was far too sensitive.

I licked my lips lasciviously, looking him square in the eye until he looked away. He bent down to grab his trunks on the floor, and I got one last look at that muscled butt of his. He scrambled to get them back on, almost tripping over himself. He rushed out without a word - maybe out of embarrassment, or shame that he let this happen, or surprise how good it felt. The door closed behind and I heard the footsteps scamper down the deck.

I was still kneeling. I looked down to my softening cock, hanging out of my Speedo and the puddle of my own cum on the station's wooden floor.