Beach Boy Ch. 02

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THE CALL OF A SIREN

Gloria called him immediately of course ... but it went straight to voice mail.

"This is Max. Leave a message."

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought to herself as she ended the call. He's on that motorcycle. He can't answer the phone...

But she called him again anyway, just to hear his voice... and then once more, leaving a long rambling message.

The few hours she had spent with the amazing boy all those months ago had changed her profoundly. He was responsible for turning her already fiery libido up another level and since they'd been apart her lust for his big prick had become like a physical ache.

Now he was back. Max had found her somehow and had come back to take her...

He's gonna fuck me, she thought happily. That lovely big cock... oh gods, yesss...

Shaky and excited she floated happily around the house thinking about seeing him again.

Maybe he'll stay, she realised. Maybe he'll come and live here...

What would it be like to have the beautiful teenager as a boyfriend? She didn't know anything about him really except for his obvious physical endowments. He was an artist, she knew that... a good one. And he loved her, she was pretty sure of that as well.

The biggest problem would be Julie.

Gloria and her daughter had become quite close since her husband left... more like a couple than mother and daughter. Having Max around would almost definitely upset her.

There'll be no more sleeping in mommies bed sweetheart, Gloria thought grimly. Oh, and by the way dear, here's your new dad!

Gloria and Julie had come to rely and support each other over the years ...make decisions together and... well, truth be known they were probably much closer then a mother and daughter had any right to be. They'd had only had each other for so long.

She'll have to get over it, thought Gloria dismissively. It can't be healthy the way it is.

And there's the age difference of course. Max can't be more than twenty.

I'll probably become known as that crazy old cradle snatcher, involved with a boy half my age. More than half... I have to be well over twice his age... maybe triple...

"But he wants me," she said out loud, dancing around her lounge-room like a teenager, "and I really want you baby," she gushed, kissing the screen of her phone because it could connect her to him.

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Gloria couldn't know it but she was always on Max's mind as well. From the moment she had driven away from him almost a year ago, she had been slowly drawing the kid back to her like a siren.

The horny teen fantasised about her morning noon and night. The texture of her skin... that mass of glorious black hair... her amazing huge breasts... that superb big round peach ass... that look... that wonderful look in her big hooded eyes when she orgasmed... and he'd shoot his seed like a garden hose!

The situation was only manageable because he had so much work to do. All of his sketches and watercolours from his beach tour had to be turned into finished framed paintings, ready to sell.

He approached the projects methodically. Borrowing money from friends to purchase canvas and paint, he spread orange plastic on the floor and walls of his little apartment and painted madly, from early in the morning to late in the evening. More often then not he would get on a roll and paint all night, sipping whiskey and eating CheezOs, until flopping into bed exhausted as it was getting light outside.

Creativity flowed through him, into his brush and onto the canvas, fuelled by the memory of the beautiful woman he met by accident on a lonely beach.

He worked with a passion he'd never felt before creating the best work he'd ever done. A dozen large works took shape, some based around the large naked painting of Gloria laying prone in the sand. Others were storm washed headlands, stunning windswept seascapes, large powerful paintings that drew the viewer in like a good book.

The first-ever exhibition in his young career was an unprecedented success. Nobody could believe that one so young could paint with such maturity and character. When the important reviewers and critics said all the right thinks his success was assured and art lovers lined up to buy his work. Wealthy highbrow people paid exorbitant amounts of money to own one of his paintings, more money than he could ever have imagined. It felt like a fortune to Max.

More importantly, the art world wanted more, especially paintings like the big nude portrait of Gloria. A banker wanted it 'at any price', angrily upping his offer again and again, and the State Art Gallery was bidding as well... crazy amounts of money... but Max didn't sell. It belonged to Gloria as far as he was concerned.

Eventually, when the last little watercolour had been sold and delivered and the crowd of well wishes and hangers-on had all gone home, Max was left alone in his little apartment. With nothing to distract him anymore, the ever-present thought of Gloria struck him like an arrow into his heart.

She'd have finished dinner about now, he thought, stroking his hardening cock as he watched television, maybe doing the washing up or maybe she's watching some telly as well...

He had no photo but he did have the drawing he'd done of his goddess sleeping on the sand. He kept it handy on the fridge door, snared under a pineapple shaped magnet. It was a very well loved piece of paper. Thumbed and a little ripped, it was splattered with small daubs of oil paint as well as some wayward splotches of dried yellowing cum - but it was still a great drawing, capturing his goddess perfectly. The blemishes somehow added texture.

Perhaps she's having a shower, he thought as he ran a finger over the curve of her hip...

His overactive imagination visualised her soaping those huge boobs as clear as day. ... mmm... squeezing those yummy big fat nipples... oh fuck yeah... she loved me squeezin' 'em...

Suddenly he couldn't take it a moment longer. The thought of her beautiful smile, her husky voice, her beautiful juicy cunt, was more then he could bear.

Jumping to his feet he found his old duffel and packed it with a few clothes and a toothbrush. The drawing he rolled up and inserted into a mail tube and packed it on top. Then he walked out of his apartment.

In ten minutes he was heading north on his big black Harley-Davidson. It wasn't till dawn was coming through the trees on his right that he wondered if he'd closed the front door.

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MORGAN'S HEAD

Stopping only when he had to pee or fill the bike with gas he rode like a crazy man and two days later, dusty and exhausted, the love-sick kid drove the noisy motorbike into Morgan's Head. This was the little town that boasted the worlds best surf, the loneliest general store (with a single petrol pump), and the biggest concentration of dope growing hippies this side of Goa. It was

the last place he'd stopped at before he found his way north to Gloria's secluded beach.

Exhausted beyond belief he threw himself on the mercy of the old beatniks who had been so kind to him when he passed through all those months ago. Tommy, tall and thin with his long back hair and vandyke beard and Sarah, a short buxom blonde woman with big boobs and tie-dye everything, welcomed him with chilled out warmth.

"Ahhh yeah dude. Affairs of the heart man... heavy dude... we totally get it don't we Sunshine?" said Tommy philosophically when Max told them his story.

"Oh yea, yea, yea Maxy baby," agreed Sarah, who looked just like Janis Joplin. "When the love bird call's, you got to go to her man... go to her..."

They fed him a big pile of whole-grain flapjacks, dripping with local honey and fresh thick cream - the best thing he'd ever eaten - and put him to bed on the comfy old lounge on their back porch where Max pretty much passed out. He slept the rest of that day, right through the night and into the wee hours of the day after.

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MAILS IN!

When he finally woke up his 'morning glory', his massive cock, was rearing up lecherously for any other early riser to see.

He'd been dreaming that he met up with Gloria again at the secret beach. It felt so real he imagined he could still taste her lips on his. He continued the fantasy as he jerked off, stroking his dick lovingly, picturing the two of them fucking like dogs on the sand.

After he sprayed his cum over his chest and face he went for a walk around the little village. He needed to work out a plan.

How good would it be to meet her back there, he thought as he wandered down the main street, the only tarred road in the little hamlet.

All the old clapboard houses were still silent and dark but the general store was open. He brought a big bottle of water from a fat happy Irishman and drank it as he wondered about.

The little shop looked like nothing from the outside but was bigger inside then he'd expected and was surprisingly well stocked with camping and fishing gear. As he looked through their wide range of tents, Max hatched a scheme... a perfect romantic idea that would sweep Gloria off her feet! He had the money to buy the best and the best they had was perfect.

His hippy friends thought it was a good idea too and, with the generosity reserved for the alternative livers, let him borrow everything else he needed, all the things he couldn't buy. Tommy even lent him his truck.

"Just don't bog it dude," Tommy had said. "Keep to the hard sand... and don't drive in the waves... rust is the silent killer man!"

With the back packed with camping gear, food and water he was soon driving due north in the old pickup using the long sandy beach as his highway.

The journey had taken a good part of the day when he'd walked it but the old truck chewed up the distance pretty quickly. He became slightly afraid that after this much time he might drive right past the spot...

He needn't have worried. As he got closer he began to recognise features... the big rocky red bluff... the big shady pandanus tree... Gloria's secret shady beach was just as he remembered it. The memory of that wonderful afternoon washed over him like it was yesterday.

Driving as close as he could he got to work, unloading the old truck and setting up his camp. It took time to get it just right but by mid-afternoon it was perfect.

He drove the truck back to Tommy and then returned on his Harley.

There was just one more thing he had to do that day. He had mail to deliver.

When he got to his camp he kept going.

Riding the heavy motorbike like a crazy person he somehow found a way over the soft sand behind his campsite, and gunning the engine mercilessly, rode up the rocky bluff behind to where Gloria had once parked her rusty old Range Rover.

The big classic road bike was never meant for the punishment he was giving it. Banged up and scraped and covered in salt he knew it would never be the same... but he didn't care. It was an easy price to pay to get the love of his life.

The rough bush track ran up the hillside behind the beach, twisting left and right and disappearing into eucalyptus trees at the top of the rise. Max followed it now. He didn't know where she had been going that day, but he knew she must live up this way somewhere and he was banking on finding her. Everything depended on it.

At first it was very rough going. The storms around these northern beaches can be ferocious and the track was treacherous - almost completely washed away in some spots. In other places it was non-existent. At the top of the hill, overlooking the ocean, was a dilapidated old barn on the edge of a wide grassy meadow. Here the wheel ruts he'd been following disappeared and he had to guess where the track picked up on the other side.

But the gods were with him.

After almost an hour he came to a lonely single lane road at the top of a rise. It cut through the sugarcane fields like a knife as far as the eye could see.

There were no signs of civilisation anywhere except, about a kilometre away, a little house - the red-tiled roof like a beacon in a sea of green. He rode slowly past and saw Gloria's surname, PEPLINSKA, emblazoned in the timber rail in large black capitals.

This is it, he thought.

With his heart racing, he swung back, dropped her drawing inside the letterbox, and rode off, parking further up the road to wait. He had to be sure she collected it.

He waited patiently in that late afternoon sun until finally, he saw her. Gloria, in a blousy loose summer dress, a wide-brimmed hat and large dark sunglasses, stepped out of her front door.

From his spot a hundred metres away, the lovesick teen watched her longingly as she walked leisurely down the gravel driveway to her letterbox. She was a long way away but he was sure it was her. When he saw her open the tube and find his picture inside he felt tears running down his face - his heart fit to burst.

"Please call me baby," he muttered and, gunning the bike up the road, rode away, back the way he'd come.

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A WHALE AND A BEDROOM WINDOW

Gloria did call. An hour later as Max was parking his bike she got through. His phone started playing 'Gloria', the song by Van Morrison, that he'd made his ring-tone.

"Gloria?" he blurted.

"Max... Maxy... is that you?

Her deep gravelly voice was like a cool drink of water to the boy. He felt his scrotum contract.

"Ohh god... it is you... it's so good to hear your voice. It's been so long and I... I've missed you so much...so very much...Gloria..."

He was gushing. His voice sounded odd, like his mouth was full of marbles. Just saying her name made him breathless.

"Dear Maxy... I... I've missed you too baby. I imagined you'd forgotten me..." she babbled. "I've been going crazy sweetie... I've tried to keep it together but..."

"I could never forget you, Gloria," he declared. "I... I love you more than anything..."

"Where are you sweetheart? Gloria gushed excitedly, hating herself for sounding so desperate. "Are you close? You sound close..."

"I... I'm at the beach where we met. I saw you just before... I could have come to you then...God, I should have come... Will you come to me?"

And it was settled. She would drive down in the morning and he would be waiting. They talked on and on into the gathering dark, catching up on the goings-on they'd both had, enjoying the closeness of the other's voice and whispering sweet lovers words until Max's phone battery died.

"She wants me too," he said, staring down at the phone in his hand. Up until that moment, he hadn't been sure that she did.

He found himself tingling all over. Relief washed over him like a warm bath.

"She Wants Me Too!" this time a little louder, addressing a seagull that happened to be flying by.

Max threw his arms around himself. Holding himself in a bear hug, he spun around on the sand and did a little dance and, when that wasn't enough, tore off his clothes - jumping around naked like a crazy person, his big cock whacking against his legs and his stomach.

"SHE WANTS ME TOO!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "GLORIA WANTS ME TOO..."

The most beautiful woman in the world wanted to see him and would be there in the morning. In mere hours he would be holding her in his arms... kissing her sweet mouth... putting his cock inside her...

Unable to contain himself he sprinted off down the beach, his big prick bouncing about as though it was happy too - in a way it was.

Giddy with adrenaline, he bellowed her name as he ran...

"GLORIA... GLORIA... GLORIA..."

It was sunset when he finally jogged back. Shagged out but happy he threw himself down on the warm sand and looked out over the ocean at the last rays of the sun lighting the skyline bright orange, the sea a dark rolling blanket...

He could almost hear her throaty laugh... watching him with those hooded sexy eyes. There was that sprinkle of freckles on her high cheekbones ... that wide sexy mouth... full lips suddenly kissing him...

Sitting up on the sand, his arms crossed and resting on his knees, he felt his prick prodding hard against his chest... the big purple head tapping against his breast bone. Like always the thought of her made him desperately horny.

I should have gone to her straight away, he thought. She probably won't even notice all the trouble I've gone to.

He thought about her tits, tanned dark brown at the top, swelling out like two virginal white basketballs, and her large sensitive nipples that she loved him to suck...

She'll be here tomorrow dickhead, he told himself as he lovingly stroked the shaft of his cock. Can't you keep your hands off yourself till then for christ's sake... mmm... a few more hours and... mmmm... you'll see her again...

But it felt so nice to rub. He looked down at his best friend and his gigantic cock looked back. He licked the precum off the end, his secret shame, licking his lips at the salty taste...

Suddenly, literally out of the blue, a whale breached just offshore.

His cock forgotten in his hands, Max watched in awe as the gigantic beast, as though in slow motion, threw its massive bulk in the air...

Sometimes in life there are moments like these - moments of clarity. Max experienced it just then and knew, as the whale landed back with a mighty crash, he couldn't wait till tomorrow to see her.

Fuck the grand romantic gesture, he thought.

He pulled on his shorts and, leaving his camp unattended, clambered up the headland to where he'd parked his bike. In moments he was on his way, the big motorcycle roaring back up the dirt track towards her home.

Having done the trip once already that day he rode more confidently this time and the bike ate up the path to her house as though it knew the way. He whizzed up the hill, past the old barn and the field, and through the eucalyptus forest, riding dangerously fast. Even so, it was dead black night when he turned onto the lonely road at the top of the hill.

Switching off the engine and the headlight he coasted the last kilometre silently. Somewhere along the way he'd decided against the direct approach. He figured that knocking on the door at night might scare her. I'll find her first, he thought ...maybe I'll surprise her...

At the bottom of the slope he had just enough momentum to take him off the shoulder of the road and into scrubby bushland beside her house where he propped the bike against a gumtree.

It was dead quiet. The only sound, way in the distance, was the rumble of the ocean. A flying fox clicked by overhead, heading out over the cane fields.

There was an almost full moon to light his path as he made his way through the bush towards the house. Pushing aside branches and brush he found a timber fence, the house on the other side looming dark against the stary sky. After a quick look both ways he vaulted over, landing on the soft cut grass like a ninja.

Everything was dark but there seemed to be a hint of light at the back so he snuck that way, bent over furtively like a prison escapee. Turning the corner he was in the backyard, a square of grass with a Hills Hoist in the middle and clothes pegged on the line.

A window at the back of the house was lit up.

Shaking with excitement he crept towards it, taking the opportunity to nab a pair of panties from the clothesline as he scuttled past. The silky material made him shiver... smooth and slippery in his hand.

A yellow rectangle of illumination, bright after the darkness, spotlighted out onto the ground. Max was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame, ducking into moon shadows, till he was close enough to look inside.