Happy birthday to me!
I spent my birthday doing what I love — writing a hot story about beautiful men! Here’s some sun, surf, sand, and sex for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!
How to Catch a Wave
It was insane that I hadn’t learned how to surf yet. I’d lived here for nearly a year, with the fancy hotel resort just down the street, but something (work, friends, fear) had always kept me safely on land. But I woke up one morning in sunny June feeling like something was primed to change in my life. I thought at first it was just that I was going to try to surf for the first time. That seemed plenty exciting enough. Until I saw Tomas.
Tomas was the instructor assigned to my class. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, all long and brown, with legs that went on forever and round, muscular shoulders. I watched as he ran us through the various basics, his voice a harp growl and his accent clipping off the syllables of his English. After a while, I tuned him out. It was enough to just watch him, see the sun bouncing off his bronze skin, and watch his bright brown eyes.
They came in contact with mine, once, briefly, and I felt their heat shoot down my spine. My cock sprung to attention in my trunks, and I had to quickly adjust when his gaze flickered elsewhere.
The sand was hot beneath our feet, and the sun beat brutal rays over us. We were all looking forward to getting in the water, if only to get some relief from the intense heat. For me, though, it was worse – the heat was beneath my skin now, burning up my gut, and I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the rest of the lesson. Tomas was setting me on fire.
He came over to each of us in turn to help us with our technique. I watched him go, halfheartedly doing my best approximation of the pose, knowing the moment of truth was almost upon me. His footfalls on the sand echoed like the stomps of a monster in my head. A minute, thirty seconds, ten, and –
His hand closed around my wrist. I had to swallow hard to keep from moaning.
“Good,” he said, the double-O a thick U in his accent. He was behind me, lifting my arm slightly. One hand landed on my shoulder, curled it back, forcing me to stand up straight. I felt the impressions of his hands for seconds after they were gone.
“Very good,” he said. “Stay straight. Your feet, a little further apart. Nice.” The way he breathed the last word, with a long A curling up toward an I at the very end, made the hairs on the back of my arms stand up.
And then, abruptly, his breath was on my neck. “Is that for me?” he murmured.
I turned, quickly, shocked.
His eyes were dark and steady on my face. They flickered down, just for a moment. Long enough.
“If I said yes?” I said, trying to keep my voice under control.
He grinned, wide and toothy. “Then I will see you later.”
I’m pretty sure a moan got out of me then. I didn’t see any heads turn, so I must have kept it low.
His fingers trailed over my arm as he moved away.
How I made it through the rest of that lesson was anybody’s guess. It helped that after the individual inspections of our form, we were invited into the water to paddle out on our boards and attempt to stand up. To a man, we all wiped out badly, but Tomas gave us pointers on our form. At the end of the lesson, he lined us all up, soaked and humiliated, and said, “So you know, no one does it on the first try. No one. You have to be very, very lucky. But now you know how to do it safely, and you can practice. So for that, congratulations.” He dropped his board to the sand and applauded us all. We broke into applause back, and the class was over.
I expected him to linger, but he picked up his board shortly afterward and headed back to the dive shop. Jogging across the sand, his muscles were beautifully taut, and his ass was pert in the wet, clinging shorts. I wanted to break into a run just to go after him. But my classmates were talking and laughing around me, sharing their stories of wipeout and their ambitions for getting up on the wave the next time, and I found myself walking with them toward the outdoor showers. We all had sand to wash off.
When the rest of them had headed for the parking lot, or headed back to the water to try again, I lingered on the beach, trying not to stare at the dive shop like an expectant puppy waiting for its owner to emerge. I needed to see him again. Tomas. I needed to touch him.
When he emerged, finally, he was towel-drying his hair, his shorts still damp but hanging a little looser over his thighs. He caught sight of me and nodded his head to the side, urging me to come around to the back of the shack. I nodded back, curtly, careful not to draw any attention to myself. There were prying eyes aplenty under this sun.
I couldn’t walk fast enough. I was throbbing, not just in my cock and balls but all through me, and even my fingertips seemed to be pulsing with the need to get my hands on him. My mind was a blur as I made my way round to the back of the shack.
He was there, leaning against the shingles, arms folded over his chest. “Your name was David, right?” he said.
I didn’t expect him to care about names. “Yeah,” I breathed. I hoped he didn’t require a Social Security number, too. I didn’t think I’d get through the numbers.
“Come with me, David,” he said, and his lips turned up into a soft, teasing smile. He straightened up and began to walk toward the hotel, but I couldn’t wait. My hands slipped into his, and I pulled him close, wrapping my arms around him. I found his mouth, leaned in, and kissed him slow and hot. His lips melted under mine like hot butter.
When I let go, he stared at me, licking his lips slowly. Then he repeated himself, his voice more urgent. “Come with me,” he said, “and hurry.”
We made our way down the path to the hotel, and I struggled to stay a few paces behind him. It was torture not to reach out and run my hands over every line and curve, every bulge of muscle. But Tomas stepped lightly, his movements easy and flowing and casual. It was even more temptation to watch how easily it came to him.
Just before we reached the hotel, he hung a left and eased into a small side building. I followed him through the door, and in another moment strong hands were on my arms and I was being pushed into the wall, with Tomas’s mouth up against mine, just breathing, not kissing yet. I inhaled. The smell of detergent and fragrant wood. A storage room of some sort, I guessed, but my whole line of sight was full of Tomas and I couldn’t see for sure.
“I knew when I saw you,” he murmured. “I would get you alone.”
I lifted my hands to cup his face, then run my fingers through his still-damp tangle of hair. “We could go–”
“No.” His mouth touched mine. “Here. Now.”
He was leaning against me, arching forward. I could feel his cock, hard and lean, brushing against my own.
“Shit,” I murmured, and kissed him again, this time hard, claiming. His mouth opened to mine, his tongue thrusting forward. I licked the length of it, groaning, the vibrations of the noise seeping into both our bodies. His tongue tasted like spring water and melon, some tropical fruit he’d eaten. It was almost unbearable how sweet it was. I couldn’t lick hard enough, swallow fast enough, pulling at his tongue with my lips, grazing it with my teeth. He was addictive.
Tomas broke away, laying a thumb over my lips. I suckled at it, hungry for more, missing the feel of his mouth on mine, and he leaned in to kiss over my neck, beneath my ear, licking at the lobe and making me jump with the sudden intensity of the sensation. I gasped and cursed, my hands grabbing at his hips, fingers snaking beneath his shorts.
His lips parted on my neck. “Oh, God, yeah,” he murmured. I took the hint and curled one hand down to cup his ass. So fucking firm, like iron, but so warm to the touch. I couldn’t find breath. I was inhaling smoke, the air was so thick with want.
“You like that?” I heard myself say. I thought I sounded like a bad porn star, but Tomas was nodding frantically into my shoulder. Wat do you want?”
“Want… nggh.” I took a sharp squeeze of his ass, and he flattened himself against me, groaning. It took him a minute to go on. “Want you to fuck me.”
“We’ll get there,” I said. “Before that.”
His head tilted back and he looked at me. Lips parted, confusion and want in his dark eyes, he was so gorgeous I thought I might come just from looking at him. His cock was still rubbing against mine, his hips moving in fast, jerking circles. “Take this off,” he said, his fingers clutching at the T-shirt I’d donned hastily after the lesson. It was damp from sweat and the water, and my nipples were clinging to it, hard and obvious. His hand rubbed over one of them, and I groaned as an electric shock went zinging to my core.
I obeyed, pulling on my collar until the shirt came off. Tomas looked me over, then bent, lowering his lips to my chest. One wet, sucking kiss there, then he ventured lower, taking one of my hard nipples in his mouth. I tipped my head back against the wall and moaned, tangling a hand in his hair. He flicked at it with his tongue, and I couldn’t help the noise I made, or the way my whole body arched into his touch.
I didn’t expect him to keep going down, but he did, kissing his way down my stomach, and by then I was bracing myself against the wall, hips thrusting up toward the hollow of his throat. I was panting. God, I wanted to feel those firm lips over my cock, wanted him to yank down my shorts and take me in. The way his mouth must feel, with its sweet tingle. I was straining, groaning, wordlessly begging for him to go on.
He broke off a moment and slid his hand under the waistband of my shorts. My knees trembled. My mind was full of pleasepleaseplease.
His hand was on me first, curling, weighing, and he gave a satisfied hmm at what he was feeling. I looked down to watch him, and as he worked my shorts down slowly, his face lit up at what he saw. “Yes,” he murmured when my cock was free, thick and straining toward him. It knew what it wanted, and so did I. Tomas’s eyes locked with mine, and he smiled slightly. “OK?” he asked.
I don’t think I could have nodded any harder.
One lick, swirling, soft, on the head of my cock. I gritted my teeth and hissed in air.
One of his thumbs caught at my hipbone and stroked there gently. I was hyper-aware of that one finger, the back and forth, the constancy of it, as he took me in his mouth. Even with the mind-melting heat of his mouth, that one finger kept my attention. Like a metronome, keeping the rhythm, helping me not to fuck his face as frantically as I wanted to. I let him take his time. Every second was sweet torture – the sweetest – with him sucking so hard his cheeks hollowed out, his lips smacking obscenely in the quiet room – the wet heat against my dick pumping me full of furnace-hot flame.
“God, you’re good,” I whispered, then gritted my teeth again as he ran his tongue up and around my shaft. “So fucking good at that.”
He pulled off. His lips, wet burgundy, glimmered in the dim light. “You gotta fuck me now.”
I groaned. Didn’t want him to stop.
“Can taste your pre-come,” he said. “Want you to come inside me. Not in my mouth.” His hand dropped to massage his own dick through his shorts, and I realized how selfish I’d been.
I reached out to haul him to his feet, leaned in and kissed him slow, hungry and sloppy. “Yeah,” I murmured into his mouth, “yeah, I’ll fuck you now.” I grazed my teeth along his lower lip, and he moaned and reached down to drop his shorts to the floor, then turned and pressed his bare ass against my groin. My cock, slicked with his spit, slid right into the cleft of his ass, and I seized him by the arms and pulled him close. Even as badly as I wanted to be inside him, having his body flush against mine was such a thrill, I couldn’t let him go before another long, desperate kiss.
A pile of towels was sitting on a low table on the other side of the room, and Tomas walked over, leaning over the table and setting some towels down. He found a small bottle near the foot of the table and turned to me with a wink. He’d come prepared. Made me wonder how many guys he’d taken here. But then again, the bottle looked pretty full, and right now I didn’t give a damn.
He tossed me a condom, and I couldn’t put it on fast enough. My fingers shook. Tomas was leaning over the table, but it wasn’t until I’d finished sliding the condom on that I looked up at him and saw what he was doing. He had braced himself with one arm, hooked over the pile of towels, and his other arm was angled back to reach over his hips – he had two fingers pistoning into his own ass.
He looked over his shoulder, and I could see the agonized pleasure on his face. “Hurry,” he said, and took in a short, panting breath. His knees were shaking.
So were my own, but there was nothing that could have stopped me from crossing the room then, taking firm hold of his hips, and pushing my cock up against his ass. We were hissing in unison, both thrilling to the moment of anticipation. One more instant and I’d be buried to the hilt in him, here in this tiny, dim little room, stealing an intense moment while all around us folks came and went, thinking the only heat in this resort was from the sun.
How lucky I felt at that moment.
I steeled my hands, pushed my way to his hole, and Tomas groaned and pushed backward, trying to force the first penetration. His hole swallowed me up in an instant, tighter and hotter even than his mouth had been, and I groaned hard enough for the sound to bounce off the walls and come back at me. He gripped the pile of towels harder, burying his face in the top one, muffling his cry. His tanned, lean body shook all over. I’d never seen anyone so wanton.
“God, you’re so fucking hot,” I murmured. “You want to take more?”
“More,” Tomas moaned. “All of it.”
I pushed in another inch, but that was as far as I could get before I had to stop again. Too tight, too perfect. I went any faster, I’d go off right then.
Tomas had reached between his legs and was jacking his dick with force. Little grunts rose from his lips, and his hips gyrated, moving on my cock without me needing to do a thing. I bit my lip. I knew then that this wouldn’t be enough for me, that I wanted to take him back home with me and fuck him a thousand different ways, in every room of my house. But Tomas was so wanton, so willing to just let me take him. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a regular lover. Maybe he just wanted to teach me how to catch a wave, and after that I was on my own.
He jutted back abruptly, took more of me in, and my brain stopped working then.
I thrust forward, filling him totally, and he gave an agonized cry that was just on the human side of a roar. My own cries answered his, and my hands raked up and down his thighs as I fucked him. I probably left marks, my hands were so tense, so much like claws, but every time he cried out, sometimes with a yes, or a more, or even a harder! What else could I do? His back was rippling as he moved, perfect tanned muscle, and I watched it, mesmerized, wanting it to go on and on like ocean waves and never stop.
But ocean waves break, eventually, and I could feel mine about to turn over itself and turn into uncontrollable spray. “Tomas, Jesus, God,” I heard myself chanted, and pumped into him like a machine, and he’d gone back to cursing in his native language – something with dios was all I recognized – his voice’s pitch inching up toward breaking. “Gonna come in you,” I seethed, “gonna come so hard–”
“Yes,” he gasped, and his gyrations broke down from rhythmic to erratic.
“You’re gonna come too, aren’t you?” I leaned over him, kissed the small of his back. “Wanna feel you come around me, for me– shit–”
“Dios, yes, I’m– I’m coming–” and he froze up around me, endlessly tight, sucking me into him like a vacuum. I saw stars spangling in the dim room, heard cannons booming in my ear. It wasn’t an orgasm so much as a storm, pounding through me, emptying me out. I wasn’t sure there was anything left, except for a sun-bleached, light-headed bliss that had filled my whole body where the rest of me used to be.
I collapsed forward on top of him. Ended up with my head on his back, my hands around his waist. He lost his balance, and we pitched to the side, falling into a pile of towels. Tomas cursed. I just laughed.
It sucked to disentangle from him, but we both knew it had to happen. I wadded up the condom and tossed it in a wastebasket, hoping nobody would notice how well-used it was. Last thing I wanted was to get Tomas in trouble.
As for the first thing I wanted…
“Next time, come to my place,” I said, pulling him close. He let me kiss him again, but his face was mournful, and he shook his head.
“Can only be this,” he says. “Only here.”
My heart sank. “Why? I don’t want any commitment from you, not if you don’t want to– I just want to do this again.”
Tomas pushed away from me. “We’re not allowed. I can’t go in the hotel.”
I laughed. “Who said anything about the hotel? I mean my place. My house.”
His eyes widened. “You live here?”
“Down the street.”
His face was burning with emotion. Emotion I hadn’t expected, since this had been, on the surface, nothing but a one-time hook-up. It was my own fault for having feelings, for daring to think I might see him again. For an instant I thought he would be scared, that he’d tell me to leave and never come back.
Instead, he pressed against me, chest to chest, and for a moment just stood there, close and silent. I dared to put my arms around him. My heart was humming. So it hadn’t been just me, after all.
We tidied up the room, put a few of the towels in the laundry hamper to conceal the evidence. We parted, just outside the shed, after I gave him my address and told him I’d be waiting. Smiling, he leaned up and whispered in my ear the same promise he’d given me earlier: “I’ll see you later.”
I didn’t doubt it. And I couldn’t wait.