Beach Boy

We met Beach Boy at a nudist beach. Paul and I have been going to this beach for years, mostly to chill but sometimes to scout for men for me to play with. Nudist beaches are full of swingers and people open to different experiences, so it can be a fertile catchment area.

Paul had sent me on assignment to chat to various men, but most of them were uninspiring - nice but not for me. Then I spotted a cute, young guy sitting by himself. Unlike most men at this beach, when I started talking to him from a distance, he didn't immediately jump up to join me but stayed put (turns out it was because he had a raging hard-on). Eventually he made his way down to the water and I wandered over to chat to him and invited him to join us. But time had slipped away and we had to go, so I got his number and suggested we meet up again.

A lot of texting followed and then a few days later we met again at the beach. Turns out Beach Boy is married and going down to the nudist beach without his wife's knowledge. His home life is complicated - including the fact that he is not getting any sex - but he is still very much into his wife. All this meant that he was horny but completely tortured about everything, so while he was very definitely amenable to being lead astray (slowly), he wasn't going to initiate anything himself. So, I was in charge...

We met fairly regularly at the beach and slowly built up an almost excruciating sexual tension. Paul joined us occasionally - sometimes sitting with us, sometimes not. We would play and flirt in the water, but barely touch. On the sand, there was a bit more action: we started with mutual sunscreen application which over time grew more daring, and eventually got to the situation where I was applying sunscreen as a slow massage to his front and cock. But we still had not kissed.

We talked a lot (once he finally let down his guard) - including about his constant erections when he is with me and what we have been fantasising about each other when we are masturbating at home. At various times I was so horny I thought I was going to burst, but at other times the spectre of his family complications spread a wearisome shadow over proceedings. Sometimes his personal struggle was immensely horny (and entertaining), sometimes it dragged the whole thing down.

[Note: I don't personally have such an issue if a guy is married or has a girlfriend, so long as if he is going to play with us, that I am never going to meet the wife/girlfriend. I am not a fan of cheating but I am not going to make judgement calls about another person's life. Having said that, a man in this situation who plays with us needs to take moral responsibility for the choices he is making, and even more important, any play that we do can not impact directly on his relationship (unless it is to make it better!).]

Skip forward a month and I am meeting him once again down at the beach after a bit of a break. It is windy and the water is choppy - hardly ideal conditions. But we are both up for it and after an even more exploratory application of sunscreen we brave the ocean. Despite, or perhaps because of, the waves, we have a horny time in the water. Past the point of waiting for things to happen, I decide to speed things along. I move in close and touch him. He is tall and lean and his body feels smooth and firm and very tempting; I encourage him to touch me. We are so close that kissing feels inevitable, but the waves make it difficult.

Out of the water, Beach Boy claims to be cold in the wind and suggests we move. The fact that he seems to be showing some initiative appeals to me so I let him decide on our new location. He chooses a spot further up the beach, on the edges of the dunes.

Now the dunes are generally the provence of gay cottagers and heterosexual perves and masturbators. They are an area that neither Paul nor I have entered, but it intrigues me that he has chosen a point of partial seclusion on the fringes of the badlands. It is a good sign, despite the sordidness of it all.

We sit close, side by side and touching. It is playful and flirtatious and sexually charged. His face tells me he is as turned on as me, but his body language is still closed and scared. (Keep in mind that we are completely naked...and his cock is constantly hard.) Eventually, I can't handle the wait any longer and lean across him to kiss. It is nice, later it gets more hurried and needy. Despite the sand blowing a gale directly into my eyes, I am totally up for it and want to jump him.

But the perves and masturbators had already circled. By the time we are full swing into kissing and petting, there are two men facing us wanking and one behind. Normally, I would be repulsed (they have not been invited to participate in the event) but I am so turned on - and strangely amused by the absurdity of it all - that I block them out and focus on Beach Boy.

Between the fools' gallery and Beach Boy's terrified body language, the possibility of properly taking hold of his cock is blocked. But we joke about his constant hard-on and I run my finger playfully around the tip of his penis and down along the shaft, smearing his pre-cum all over.

I am already plotting in my head about what is going to happen next time I see him. There is no way that I am going to meet him for progressive action in the dunes to be the masturbatory fodder for more random uninvited men. We talk about some of the things we would like to do to each other. I want to shower with him then take him, partially dried, to a bed and play. (Beach Boy is not a candidate for sex -  his personal situation makes that both undesirable and unlikely - but he is definitely a candidate for serious play.) He wants to watch me wank and make me cum - which sounds great to me.

Time and the elements were against us, so eventually we dress and make our way back to the car park. Clothed and tense, we kiss a hard and long goodbye, pressed and rubbing against each other, it is perhaps more horny than our naked romp at the beach.