Surf God of Malibu Ch. 03

"Peter!" cried Vince, and we stopped just above the wet sand. "A late lesson! I thought Jacob was Wednesday mornings. If this goes on, folks are going to talk."

"Talk about what, Vince?" I said, with a smile.

"Nothing. Nothing." Then he paused for effect. "Jacob, you been getting any sleep in that shack?"

And they all laughed.

"Don't worry, we won't tell Cindy," said Al. "—or I forget, is it Amy these days?"

For the life of me I don't know what possessed me in that moment. It's not like I made a decision, exactly. I just heard the words leave my mouth.

"It wasn't working out with Cindy or Amy," I said. "I'm hoping it will work out better with Jacob."

This, of course, sent them into gales of laughter. "Jezuz, surf god," cried Vince. "Don't make me shit in my suit."

"Boys, boys. Let me ask you a question," I smiled. "Am I not the best goddam surfer on this beach?"

"Well..." said Vince.

"Admit it."

"Okay, okay. You're the best, Surf God."

"And why am I the best?"

"Well..."

"I'm the best because I'll try anything. I'll try goddam anything. I'm the best because I have no fear."

"Fuck yes!" cried Randy, who was clearly the most drunk of the three. Randy always admired the shit out of me. "Yes! Yes! The Surf God has no fear."

"Well, I tried women. I tried really hard. But I could never make it fucking work. The one thing I could never make work. Fortunately, I am fearless. So I'm trying men now. I'll let you know how it works out."

And with that I reached out and pulled Jacob to me, and kissed him hard on the lips. When I pulled away, I left my arm on his shoulder. Then he and I just stared the boys down.

"Whoa," said Randy.

"Shitfire," said Al.

"No shit," said Vince.

And then a little silence fell.

"You boys look like you could use a drink," I said. "Meanwhile, we want to get inside and man-fuck."

"Sure, Peter," said Vince, uncertainly. "Sure. We'll see you around."

The others mumbled something similar, and they continued on their way, shooting looks back at us, and once a little ways down the beach, giggling.

We walked up to the shack in silence, then, and turned on the warm outdoor shower. I kept my wetsuit on, but unzipped the back of Jacob's, and pulled it down over his arms to his waist. He tried to help, but I said "No, let me." Then I knelt down and peeled it off his legs, one at a time.

"Peter, I—"

"Shhh," I said, "it's enough talking." Then I stood up and embraced his lean, wet, naked body with my slick, salty, wetsuited body, placing one hand on his buttocks and one on his shoulder. We kissed right under the showerhead. Not me kissing him hard, like before, but the two of us just kissing. Even through the wetsuit, I felt his dick growing hard. But I didn't touch it, not yet. "You'll want to get all the salt off," I said, stepping back and turning him around under the stream. The light was off, but I saw him in the occasional flash of headlights from the highway. There was a bit of old soap there, in a can, and when his back was turned, I reached my left arm around his chest and pulled him close. Then I took the bit of soap in my right hand and eased it up into his ass crack, washing him. "Spread your legs a little for me," I said, and he did, and I washed his inner thighs and his hairy balls, and pushed the soap gently up into him, so that he sighed a little. "Lift up your arms for me." Then I moved my hand up the side of his body, to wash him first under one arm, really soaping up the hair under his arm, and then I switched sides and washed him under the other arm. And then I returned my right hand to his ass crack and washed until the soap was gone and there was nothing in the entire world but the warm water and the cold night and his slick flesh and my wetsuit pressed against his backside. At last I reached around him and grabbed his dick, which was wonderfully hard and hairy and erect. And I squeezed it gently, just enjoying the feel of it in the warm water. And he turned his face and I knew he wanted my tongue, and so I gave it to him.

"Let's go inside," I said at last, and we moved indoors, me still in my wetsuit, getting the floor all wet and sandy. "Sit," I said, and he sat naked on a kitchen chair, and I knelt there, on the floor, and took his hard wet hairy dick in my mouth, for the first time a man's dick in my mouth while with my big right hand I cradled his balls, and with my left I held his body close. I loved the taste of his dick and the feel of it in my mouth, not because it was "man" but because it was "Jacob" and I now loved Jacob. I now wanted him in my mouth. I swallowed it deep, deep, deep. And he put both his hands in my wet hair and bent over and kissed me on the top of my head. And I allowed myself to lose myself in that moment. To forget "surf god" and all loneliness and all pride and all distance from other human beings in the closeness to this one human being. And then I stood, and lifted him up to me, and pulled him against my wetsuit and said, "put your tongue in my mouth and see if you can taste yourself there." And he did, and all he said was "mmmm." Then I pushed his tongue out with my tongue and plunged it deep into his mouth. And I pulled his head against it and pushed it in and out, in and out, in and out until he was gasping.

When I pulled my tongue out, I said: "Do you want me to fuck you, Jacob?"

"Yes, Peter."

"When I fuck you this time, though, you'll know that I love you, right?"

"Really?"

"Yes. Even when I fuck you really hard. Even when I let myself go, it's because I want to take you with me to where I am going."

"I understand, Peter. And you know I want you to fuck me hard."

"It's because I want to go there together."

"Yes."

He walked around behind me then and pulled on the zipper on the back of my wetsuit, so that I felt my muscles released into the cool air of the cabin. And I let him peel the suit off first my right arm, then my left arm. I felt powerful. I felt alive. I felt more alive than ever in my life. And then he peeled the suit down my waist, and he knelt on the floor as I had knelt on the floor to remove one leg after the other from the wet rubber. My dick was rock hard, almost painfully hard, wanting him. But I just stood there, waiting while he finished with the wetsuit, and then my trunks. And I just stood there as he licked first my right and then my left nipple. And I just stood there as he went around behind me and kissed my shoulder blades and then the middle of my back, and then my buttocks, first the right and then the left. Precum formed at the end of my dick and dripped on the floor. And still I didn't move. He knelt behind me and suddenly I felt his tongue playing with my balls from behind. Just licking them gently. And I felt his breath on my balls and on the inside of my thighs. I opened my legs a little, to give him better access, but still I just stood there, taking it in. Not wanting to rush anything.

"I need to wash," I said. "Let's go in the shower."

"Mmmm," he said. But we didn't move. And again I felt his tongue on my sack and my balls. My dick was like steel. Like a steel rod. Like a huge steel rod. I longed to touch it. I longed for him to touch it. But still I didn't move.

"I'll lead you into the shower," he said, and stood up and came around front, where I longed to take him in my arms, but did not. He grasped my huge steel rod of a dick with his left hand and pulled. I gasped, but did not move. "Come this way," he said, and what could I do but follow? I felt sweat breaking out on my forehead and my buttocks. I was more turned on than I think I had ever been in my life. To be led like that by the dick, was for the moment, heaven.

"Jacob," I said.

"Yes, Peter."

"Fuck but that feels good."

"Yes, Peter."

"Don't let go."

"I won't."

"Promise you won't let go."

And he held it much tighter, pulling me into the bathroom where we first had sex just 48 hours ago. But it seemed like we had been having sex together forever, for an entire epoch of history. Without letting go of my dick, he turned on the shower and pulled me under it. And still without letting go, he grabbed some soap, and just as I had washed him, he washed me with his right hand. First under the arms. Then my bristly face. Then the inside of my thighs. Then reaching around to my ass crack. All the while keeping a firm grip on my dick with his left. Every now and then we made eye contact and smiled.

"Oh shit, Peter," he said at last and dropped down to suck my dick, there with the water pouring over his head. His mouth was warm and good. I grasped his hair with both hands. But I did not want to come this way.

"I want to fuck you now," I said.

"Mmmm."

And I drew him up, and put my huge tongue in his mouth and let him nurse on it a while.

"Mmmm," he said again.

"Let me fuck you."

"Yes, Peter. Please fuck me."

"Say it again."

"Please fuck me."

Now it was my turn to grab his dick and lead him out of the bathroom, dripping wet, toward the bed.

"Just stand there a second," I said, and went to get a towel. And as he stood there, unmoving, I dried him from head to foot, savoring the moment. Still, despite my overwhelming need, not wanting to rush it. Sometimes, when the towel touched the head of my dick, or it brushed against his body, it was all I could do not to come, right there. I recalled a deep fantasy I had had. In this fantasy, I stood on a chair and jacked off all over a man, throwing huge coils of cum over him. In this fantasy, we both shouted for joy. In my delirium, I thought about trying to do that now, but I restrained myself.

"Please, Peter. Please fuck me," repeated Jacob.

All logic had fled, and we were both in a kind of dream state.

"Fuck you?"

"Yes, fuck me."

I could hardly speak, but I said, "Do something for me, okay?"

"Okay, Peter."

"Get on the bed on all fours for me."

"Yes, Peter."

And he did.

"I love you Jacob. We are equals and I love you. Remember that as I fuck you."

"Yes, Peter."

At that, he put his head down against the pillow and opened his ass out to me, inviting me to penetrate him.

For a moment I just looked at him. At his beautiful ass. At his beautiful pink opening. I ran my hand over his buttocks and down his thighs. Gently, gently, I touched his asshole, ran my finger around the pinkness of it. Played with the black hairs. Leaned over and kissed the insides of his thighs, feeling him first tense up, and then relax.

Slowly I disengaged, and I walked over to the nightstand and found the bottle of lubricant. I was in no hurry. I poured some on my hand and stood behind him, and reached out and gently rubbed it on his ass cheeks and his balls and around front on his hard, hard dick. Then I poured some more and smeared it up into his asshole. Then I poured some more on my own iron-hard rod of a dick, surely larger than it had ever been before. I was breathing hard. I was breathing very hard as I climbed onto the bed behind him. I was breathing very hard and I made an animal sound like a growl. Then I placed the helmet of my dick up against his asshole and penetrated just a little

He moaned. I moaned.

"Oh fuck," I said, and shoved it in, and shoved it in, and shoved it in. He pushed back and pushed back, but I could feel him collapsing onto the bed, so I wrapped my arms around his torso to hold him against me, and I pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed deeply deeply deeply.

"Oh," I cried, and the fire rose up again out of my loins and overcame my whole body and my mind, too. I felt my dick surge. I came and I came and I came. There was a kind of tremendous heat. And he cried out. Then we were both crying out as I came a second time almost immediately, and violently inside him. Our cries merged with the sound of the waves. It was a cry together for the end of all loneliness of all people always and forever.

I held him a long time as my orgasm subsided. As I became again human.

"Now you," I said, barely able to speak. "Do something for me. Mark me."

"What?" he said, confused.

At that, I pulled out my softening member, and lay beside him on the bed, face up. "Come, kneel on top of me." And he did. He put one leg on either side of me, just above my muscular waist, so that his butt was just pressing against my pelvis, on my pubic hair.

"I want you to come all over me," I said. "All over my chest and my face and everything. I want you to mark me as your own. Your husband. Your mate. But please, look me in the eye. Don't forget to look me in the eye, my loved one. Take the leap."

He leaned over and kissed me on the lips, and as he did so, I felt his hard hard dick press against my abdomen.

"I want you to come all over me," I repeated. "Mark me."

"I love you Peter," he said, and took his cock in his right hand. "You are mine." After that, it only took a few strokes of his olive dark hand on his olive dark hairy dick. "Look me in the eye!" I shouted as he began to come. And lo, his dick flung white jism all over my blond hairy chest and my face and my arms. And I cried out too. I cried out too. I cried out too. And just like that, we were mated. Mated forever.

-----

That was almost fifteen years ago. Fifteen years, and we are still together. Jacob's divorce from Allison was spectacular, brutal. And yes, he lost his job practically the next day. I still remember the look on Allison's face when I accompanied him to the divorce lawyer's office. When I gave her back her thousand dollars, and gave him a hug for support. I felt sorry for her, I really did. It wasn't her fault. Though I got pretty pissed when she took the Porsche.

I had to quit the surf school—it was too uncomfortable to be out in that kind of environment. I tried to give private lessons for a while, but without referrals from the school, it just didn't happen. We had a couple tough years, but our love never faltered. Our joy in each other's company, each other's bodies.

In time, Jacob found a new gig at a small firm where he was completely out. And little by little, the world changed. It did. It amazingly did. I got a job at a surf shop, and by the time I was a partner, people mostly stopped caring that I was gay. Didn't quite stop noticing, but mostly stopped worrying about it.

Last year, to my astonishment, the law changed, and we actually married. Husband and husband. Two tuxedos at the courthouse. Now we wear rings.

Jacob has gotten me nice clothes, and he sometimes talks me into going to the symphony and art galleries and shit—but I've never really felt at home anywhere but the beach. I'm sorry to report that the shack was bulldozed more than ten years ago, and now we live in a nice condo, with a fifth story view of the waves. The "surf god" sign, however, still hangs over our bedroom door. Jacob's never learned to be that great a surfer, but his skill in bed has never faltered. Not to mention his skill on the balcony, where we often go out after dark, and hope the neighbors don't hear. We lay out blankets and fuck to the sound of the waves. He always likes to start by saying "Fuck me, Peter." It's always beautiful. Always and miraculously beautiful to kiss. To touch. To enter. To go to the unknown country together.

END