Blessed by the Sun


"Well, we've been living together for a year and a half, doesn't that tell you everything you need to know?" God, I sounded defensive.

Mom sighed and shook her head. "No, not quite. Eric, I'm not trying to attack you. But I'm concerned. It worries me to think you might be playing around on the side. Maybe I'm misreading the situation, but Jeremy just doesn't strike me as the open relationship type."


"Please answer the question, Eric."

There's no getting around her when she has that look in her eye. You don't mess with a former school principal. I sighed in defeat. "I don't do that stuff. Not any more. Not since Jeremy. We go to the beach because that's where we met. It's a sentimental thing. That's all. I don't run around on him. I couldn't."

She looked at me searchingly. "And why not, Eric?"

I finally realized what she was really asking me.

"Because I love him, Mom," I answered quietly.

She smiled. "That's all I needed to hear." And with that, she picked up the tray of cake and carried it off into the living room. I followed in a daze, balancing the coffee pot and a trayful of mugs.

* * *

I have to pee. "I'll be right back, babe," I tell Jeremy, standing up and strapping on my Tevas. "Nature calls."

"Say hi for me," he responds drowsily, probably not even opening his eyes behind his wraparound sunglasses. I walk around the back of our little cabana and head up the slope toward the numerous small gullies that open onto the beach out of the cliff face, looking for a spot to let loose.

A guy is lurking in the mouth of the nearest gully. He eyes my body deliberately, up and down, then tugs on his half-hard cock in invitation, one eyebrow raised inquiringly. He's not bad looking, mid-thirties, maybe, well-hung and in decent shape, but a shiver runs down my spine. This is exactly what I was here to do six years ago, right until the moment Jeremy knocked me off my feet and changed my life. I know full well what drives this guy, and I have no desire to judge him for it, but neither can I imagine putting myself back in that position. I'm taken now, I remind myself. I shake my head politely but firmly, and find a stand of bushes some distance away to do my business, avoiding any further eye contact.

By the time I'm finished, the cruiser has already found someone else to play with, a little blond twink, and they're stroking one another's dicks in the recesses of the canyon. Despite my resolution, I can't resist sneaking a peek as I pass. The first guy throws me one final glance: Offer's still good, care to join us? I shake my head again, smile, and wave: I'm good, thanks. Have fun. To my embarrassment, I realize I'm sporting wood.

When I get back to our campsite, Jeremy has rolled over onto his front, his head turned away from me and resting on his folded arms. I stop dead, my dick pointing directly at his firm, brown, meaty ass, showing me exactly what it wants, right now, please.

I kneel next to him and grab the sunscreen. It's a plausible enough reason to touch him, less of an obvious come-on in case he's not in the mood right now. I pour a good-sized amount of lotion into my palm and rub my hands together to warm it up. "Here, babe, let's get some more sunblock on you," I tell him, already reaching out to spread it across his shoulders.

"Oh, good, I was about to ask you to do that," he mumbles. There's no sign that he expects or desires anything more as I rub the stuff into his shoulders, upper arms and back, even though I try to make my strokes as sensual as possible. But when I reach his ass and brush down toward the cleft between his cheeks, Jer hums happily and spreads his legs to grant me access. Yes! Our positions are reversed from this morning, when he was applying my sunscreen. Now I'm the one knocking at the back door. Only this time I'm sure as hell not going to say no if he's inviting me in. Grabbing a bottle of lube from my backpack, where I'd thoughtfully stashed it this morning, I pour a generous amount into my hand, and slowly ease one finger into Jer's tight heat, rotating it gently.

"Mmm, yeah, babe," he sighs, cocking his hips back to meet my invading hand. I feel his ass clench and relax around my penetrating digit as I thrust and withdraw very lightly. My dick is dripping with the need to be inside him, but I'm determined to take this as slowly as possible, to make our joining just as good for him. I keep massaging his inner ring of muscle, waiting until he's fully relaxed to add a second finger. He accepts it willingly, murmuring my name in an erotic tone that sets my head spinning.

I restrain myself long enough for a few more minutes of probing, testing, teasing him open, adding a third finger to Jer's flexing channel. His eyes are closed, his breath shallow like mine. Finally, with one more squirt of lube for good measure, I'm ready. Jer is past ready, whimpering, his hips twitching with arousal. Pressing my lips between his shoulder blades, I line my shaft up with his waiting hole and push forward gently. A few moments of intense pressure and suddenly I'm through the barrier, sliding unimpeded into my lover's welcoming depths. We both groan at the sensation; this merging of our two bodies never loses its wonder.

We have our own silent language, one we've developed through six years of learning one another's bodies. Once I'm fully seated inside him I wait a minute for him to adjust, kissing his hair, his ear, the back of his neck, running my hands along his sides and down his arms. He bucks back into me to let me know when he's ready to be fucked. I give him a few minutes of slow, easy strokes, pushing in deep, pulling out gradually, until he begs for more in a low, gasping voice. And I give it to him, a barrage of hard, regular, determined thrusts, my hands gripping his flanks, my hips pumping rhythmically, our balls slapping together and sticking each time I bottom out inside him.

The sweat is dripping off my forehead and running down my sides. Jeremy is crying my name, pleading for everything I can give him. Vaguely, my own voice registers in my ears: I don't even know at what point I started responding in kind to his verbal encouragement. If anyone is nearby, there's not going to be a shred of doubt about what we're up to, but we're both past caring. Let them listen, let them watch. Just don't let anyone interrupt the union of our bodies and souls.

My orgasm creeps up on me. One moment I'm pounding away, engrossed in sun, sand, sweat and sex. The next, I'm holding my breath for a heartbeat, two, before plunging as far into Jer's sweet, hot body as I can, and letting loose the full contents of my balls, while sparks flash in the air before my eyes.

I collapse on top of him, every part of me limp except my still tumescent cock. I could lie here for hours, not moving, buried deep inside my lover, but he hasn't come yet. I pull out carefully, leaving behind a streak of cum along one brown leg, and gently help Jeremy turn over. His dick looks painfully hard, the foreskin fully retracted and the head swollen with need, begging for release. In a blink that head is at the back of my throat, my right hand wrapped tight around his shaft just above the tight-drawn ballsack, a couple of fingers of my left hand wriggling back into his cum-slicked passage to seek out his prostate.

It doesn't take long. Jer's so close, so ready to let go, that only a minute or two of good, hard, determined sucking has him shouting in ecstasy. His legs twitch involuntarily as he grants me his salty-sweet load. I swallow most of it eagerly, but pull off him to let the last couple of spurts decorate my cheek and chin. Opening his stunned, sex-hazed eyes, he reaches out to wipe some of it away and feed it to me, then pulls me forward into a kiss, sampling his own flavor from my mouth.

Our hands meet and clasp. An unfamiliar pressure against my fingers causes me to look more closely at Jeremy's hand, where a brand new titanium band proudly adorns his ring finger, bright against his dark skin. My gaze automatically turns to my left hand, sporting its own matching band. My husband, I marvel. Who would have ever thought?

* * *

It was mid-May of this year when the announcement came out that the California Supreme Court had approved same-sex marriage. I read the news on the Internet at work that day, forwarded the article to Jer, and thought nothing more of it until I walked in the door and was greeted by the sound of my boyfriend singing to himself in the kitchen, and the mouth-watering smell of his latest culinary masterpiece. He gets home from his job with the school district earlier than I do, and as usual, was already preparing dinner.

I entered the kitchen, stole up behind him, and wrapped my arms around him, planting a kiss on the back of his neck.

"Hey, you," he said. He pushed his butt back and ground it against the burgeoning rod in my pants, then turned in my arms to kiss me. "Welcome home. How was your day?"

I opened my mouth, and to my own complete astonishment, heard myself say, "Will you marry me?"

I had to ask him twice more before he believed I was serious. By the third time I said it, I realized I truly was. Jeremy's fabulous dinner was a little burned around the edges that night. We had been too busy making love on the dining room table to take it out of the oven in time.

We stood in line at the registrar's office in Norwalk just three days ago, the very first day unions like ours became legal, sweating in our best suits, hardly believing this was all real. I remember gripping his hand tight in mine, squeezing it every few moments to reassure myself that this was actually happening. When Jeremy slid the ring onto my finger and promised to love me forever, I thought for a moment I would burst into tears right there in public. I never cry. Especially not in front of cheering strangers and a frazzled deputy commissioner.

But then I realized that I can allow myself to cry in front of my husband. So I did.

* * *

A movement in the corner of my eye makes me look up. Then sit up. Fast. An absolutely gorgeous man is standing near the water's edge, naked, watching us and smiling. Something about him seems naggingly familiar, but I can't quite place it. Whoever he is, he was first in line when they were handing out looks. Reddish-gold hair covers his head in loose curls. A stylized sunburst tattoo adorns his left shoulder. His broad chest and flat, hairless stomach are perfectly sculpted, with a pronounced Adonis belt drawing the eye down from his hips to his crotch.

He catches my eye and flashes me the thumbs-up sign. Was he there watching while we were making love? Is he hoping to get in on the action? Eying his large, uncut cock, I'm not sure I'd have the willpower to say no to a threesome. But mystery man isn't showing any signs of arousal. Instead, with one final smile and wave, he turns and wanders away to the south.

Jeremy, who must have been looking the other direction this whole time, gasps, drawing my unwilling attention away from the man's perfectly tanned, muscular back and butt. "Babe, look!"

A large pod of dolphins is cavorting in the surf, their sleek bodies shining as they leap above the waves. Jer is like a small child in his delight, running down to the water's edge for a closer look. I follow, looking down the beach, trying in vain to see where the male supermodel just vanished to.

By the time we're standing ankle-deep in the surf, I've given up, surrendering to Jeremy's enthusiasm. And I have to admit, the dolphins are thrilling to watch. I've never seen so many together at one time. When the pod has finally passed, disappearing away to the south just like my surfer god, Jer turns to me with mischief in his eyes, pounces, and throws us both off balance and down into the next oncoming wave.

Next thing I know, we're both splashing around in the chilly Pacific water, as carefree and giddy as the dolphins, laughing, ducking one another, swimming out to catch the incoming surges and riding them back toward land. When the adrenaline has receded and we're simply floating peacefully, I turn to find Jeremy looking at me.

Wordlessly he reaches out for my hand. I take it and he draws me close. Our feet flounder a little until we find solid footing on the sandy ocean bottom, and then we're molding our bodies to one another, a perfect fit, our mouths locked in a long, sweet kiss.

We finally disengage, breathing heavily, and stand forehead to forehead in the surf, arms still wrapped around one another. "Do you know how glad I am I ran into you that day?" he asks.

"Every bit as glad as I am," I reply. "You came into my life like a blessing I never expected. And certainly never deserved."

He finds my ringed left hand, lifts it, and kisses it. "As long as we love each other, you'll always deserve me."

We haul ourselves out of the surf and trudge back up to our station, where we collapse, partially draped over each other, and let the sun warm and dry our chilled bodies.

It's the longest day of the year, and the sun is still riding high in the sky, but before another hour has passed it's time for us to get moving. I have more plans for this day than I've told Jeremy yet. I nudge him into action, and we reluctantly take down the sunshade, fold up our towels, and put the empty water bottles and food containers into the cooler. Last of all, and most reluctantly, we put our clothes back on for the return to civilization.

We make our way back north, back off Marine turf, through the "straight" beach, where a couple of friendly regulars give us a cordial wave goodbye, past the still-empty lifeguard tower (why do they even have those if they never use them?), and back up the steep incline that always seems so much longer climbing than descending.

At the top of the bluff I stop, winded, to stretch my legs and let my heart rate slow. There's a conveniently located bench nearby, so I make Jeremy sit with me and look out over the gleaming ocean. Far out on the waves, a solitary surfer is cutting a golden figure against the deep blue water. I wonder if it's the same guy I saw earlier, then stiffen, finally remembering where I had seen him before. Here. Six years ago. Right before a young man named Jeremy Garcia tackled me, stole my heart, and gave me his own in exchange.

A lone crow drifts silently overhead. I let out a slow, wondering breath, sending a silent prayer of thanks for this blessed spot before we rise and turn our steps away from the sea toward the parking lot.

I'm in a melancholy mood. Rumor has it the Park Service's tolerance has reached its limits, and going bare here will soon earn you a citation and fines. After all this time, this may turn out to be our last naked visit to San Onofre. I take Jeremy's hand and hold it tightly at that thought. He flashes me one of his sweet, contented smiles at the gesture, and I melt a little bit inside.

We're both quiet during the long, slow drive along the bluff, through the gate and past "The Boobs." But Jeremy looks at me in sudden confusion when I pull onto the freeway going southbound instead of heading north toward Long Beach and home. "Babe, you're going the wrong way," he protests.

I shake my head, smiling. "No, I'm not. I booked us into a bed-and-breakfast in San Diego for the weekend. Our suitcases are already in the trunk. Did you really think I would marry you and not give you a honeymoon?" A moment's silence. "Surprise?" I offer tentatively. I steal a glance over at him. He's beaming at me.

"You didn't have to do that," he says softly.

"Of course I did," I scoff. "You're my husband. It's my job to spoil you as much as you already spoil me. Besides, my parents are paying half. It's their way of apologizing for not being able to make it to our wedding." Mom and Dad sold the house and moved to Arizona last year. They were ecstatic when we told them our news, and devastated that their schedule wouldn't allow them to attend.

Jeremy's voice is husky with emotion. "I'll have to call and thank them."

"We both will. I know they'll love hearing from you. Is there anything you'd like to do while we're down there?"

"You mean besides returning the favor you gave me this afternoon?" he suggests.

My hole twitches and my dick perks up at the mere thought of having Jer's fat cock inside me tonight. How far is it to San Diego? I increase my driving speed slightly.

Jer's still pondering my question. "Hey, I've never been to Black's Beach, have you?"

"Isn't that..."

"Yeah, another nude beach. What do you think? Maybe we could branch out."

Jeremy's always been the shy one. I never would have expected him to suggest that. But then, I never expected my husband, period.

"I love you," I tell him.

"I love you, too."

It isn't technically possible to drive off into the sunset on the I-5 freeway, seeing as how it runs north-to-south instead of east-to-west, but on this trip it feels to me as though that's exactly what we're doing.

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