Swimming Lessons


Keith had enjoyed Larson using that position on him. With a sigh, he went back to his chapter in the Kindle. The character he identified with had been trapped by the villain and was being rough fucked. Other members of the villain's gang were gathering around, watching, talking dirty about what they were going to do when they got their turn. Keith's hand went to his cock and encased it. He squeezed it and rubbed a thumb on the piss slit. He could feel himself going hard, cum welling up deep inside him.

He had no idea how much time had transpired, but it came as a shock when he felt a hand brush away the hand he was encasing his cock with and felt the sensation of a warm and moist mouth coming down over his cock and hands clutch his buttocks. He looked down the line of his body and saw the blond buzz cut. Thick was sucking his cock. Thick's hands glided up his torso and latched onto his pecs.

The head Keith was getting was good immediately. Very, very good. There was no fighting it. He let his arms flop to the side and his Kindle sank into the sand next to him. Looking over toward and beyond it, he saw that Long and the Indian were on Long's blanket. The Indian was on knees and elbows, chest pushed into the blanket and his head turned toward Keith, his eyes wide open. Long was crouched over his hips and feeding his cock inside the Indian in long, deep strokes.

Keith was no longer watching the story or even reading a story; he was part of the story. Up on the bluff Larson and the black guy had disappeared. Maybe into the house to rest and then start again. Keith had every reason to believe that Larson could stroke all day.

Moaning as Thick pushed a rolled-up towel under the small of his back, turning his pelvis up, and started to lick from his balls down his perineum to his hole, Keith's hands went back to his own cock. He arched his back and groaned as Thick's tongue pushed into his channel, moistening and opening him. One of Thick's hands was scrounging around inside a beach bag laying off to the side and came out with a small bottle of lubricant and a bundle of condom packets that were attached in a string. He raised the bundle before Keith's eyes and let it open and cascade down.

Thick lifted his head up, smiled, and whispered. "All of these. We've been saving you. By popular vote, this is your day."

Keith groaned again. That was so much like what the villain in his novel had said as he was tying the protagonist's wrists to posts. "All of these," the villain was saying, sweeping his hand in a gesture that took in all of the salivating gang members hunched around them and pulling at their cocks.

Thick was standing in a crouch, lifting Keith's pelvis to his and fucking Keith in quick, efficient strokes when the Indian came over and crouched down at Keith's side and gave him a look of sympathy or some sort of brotherhood. Long was settling on his haunches nearby and watching. The Indian encased Keith's cock in his hand and then leaned over and took it in his mouth. After a few minutes of what Keith considered very expert sucking, the Indian murmured something to Thick, who went down on his knees, bringing Keith's back down on the ground, but not skipping a beat in the stroking. The Indian rolled a condom on Keith's cock; straddled Keith's belly, facing him; skewered himself on the hard dick; and raised and lowered himself on the staff as he leaned over, put an arm under Keith's neck, palmed his cheek, lowered his forehead to Keith's, and looked intently into Keith's eyes.

Keith, who had never been particularly fond of Indians, was embarrassed at the intimacy of this, and would have shrunk away from the Indian when he began kissing him on his face—his cheeks and eyelids and ears—and tried to groan disapproval when the Indian reached the mouth, but he found his tongue being sucked into the Indian's mouth and sucked there just like it was a cock. The sensation was so sensual and such a surprise, that Keith's hips jerked and he ejaculated in the Indian's channel.

Sometime during all of that the thick cock was replaced by a long cock, and Keith realized there had been a change of the guard. Whereas Thick fucked in short, staccato bursts, Long fucked in long, deep strokes.

After Keith had come in the Indian, Thick pulled him off Keith's cock, swung the Indian around by his belly, crawled off a couple of yards with him in tow, and started doggy fucking him. Long was crouched over Keith and looking down into his eyes, giving him a dark, sensual half smile while he stroked. He gripped Keith's knees with his hands, pushing them out and bringing them back in the rhythm of the fuck. Then he went back on his haunches and pulled Keith's buttocks up on his thighs, with Keith's torso streaming down in front of him. He was reaching deeper inside. Keith groaned and crossed his legs behind Long's back, holding him as deep inside as he could.

The deep fuck. What he melted to was the deep fuck.

Keith looked over at the wooden staircase up to the parking lot. Larson and the black guy, still naked, were at the bottom of the stairs, arms around each other and starting to move up the beach toward him. There was also someone new there—a man, a bulky body-builder type—at the top of the stairs. He too appeared to be naked. Keith closed his eyes and turned his head away, wanting all of his senses to go to Long's cock working deep inside him.

He felt Long jerk and shudder and come deep inside him. When Long withdrew and was rising from the sand, Keith opened his eyes and watched him move away, toward Thick and the Indian. Thick was on his back, under the Indian, fucking up into him from behind. Long crouched between the Indian's legs and was rubbing his cock on the Indian's balls, perineum, and inner thighs, waiting for it to engorge enough to double the Indian again. When he moved out of the way, another man was standing there, leering down at Keith and snapping the latex edge of the Maxim condom encasing a huge cock crowned with a thick cock ring. A leather strap tightly bound the root of the cock.

Stan. Stan, the bartender, had shown up.

Stan was sitting, leaning back on his elbows on the sand, legs slightly apart. Keith was sitting on his cock, the two facing each other, his legs on either side of Stan's torso, knees bent, leveraging off his toes. His arms were stiff-armed behind and under him, the heels of the palms buried in the sand on either side of Stan's slightly spread legs. Stan was holding Keith's body suspended over his with strong hands gripping his waist. Both were rotating their pelvises, in opposite directions, Stan's cock ring kissing every part of Keith's undulating channel walls.

Stan was teaching Keith the Kamasutra Butterfly position.

He had already told Keith he'd be taking him home to show him so much more that night. Keith had moaned but had not objected. He loved the feel of the cock ring inside him.

All of the others were gathered around them in a close circle on the otherwise deserted beach. Thick and Long had the Indian between them, both of their hands fondling his cock and balls as he had the cock of each in a hand. Across from them, Larson and the black guy were stretched out in reverse, the black guy on top of Larson, and 69ing.

Keith couldn't shake the sensation that they were all in a waiting pattern. Waiting for the end of the Butterfly lesson so that they each could have another go at Keith. He moaned at the prospect that Thick and Long's specialty was yet to come for him.

This, with summer drawing to a close. What new heights of languid-fucking pleasure could he have achieved if the summer had started this way and heightened in swimming lesson sensuality from that point, he wondered. Perhaps next summer.

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