Surfer Boys Read online

  Nick slipped his middle finger between Stedman’s asscrack and started to massage the small, pink hole. “How does that feel?” His breathing grew heavy; he leaned forward and rubbed his rough stubble against Stedman’s soft neck.

  Stedman’s heart began to race and he couldn’t catch his breath; he jumped forward and Nick’s hand slid out of his pants. “Not here, Nick. There are too many people.” He didn’t want Nick to know that he was terrified of anything going into his ass, but he didn’t want Nick to feel rejected either. So he reached down between Nick’s legs, pulled his dick out of the board shorts, and gave him a quick hand job right there in the water. Nick was extremely hard by then, and his dick had been ready to explode for a while. Stedman worked fast; he was good at this, and his arms never grew tired during a hand job. It only took a few tugs and jerks for Nick to blow a full stream into the ocean. When it was over, while two skinny teenage boys passed them with their surfboards, Stedman closed his eyes, went under the water and sucked a few remaining drops out of Nick’s cock. A month earlier he couldn’t even look at the ocean without feeling panic, and there he was sucking dick…underwater.

  Before they swam back to the beach, Nick adjusted his shorts and said, “I’d like to see you later tonight if you’re not busy. I could come by around nine.” He cupped Stedman’s ass again and squeezed hard, giving a rakish whistle. “I’d come over earlier, but I have to meet a friend for an early dinner tonight.”

  Stedman whistled back and pressed his lips together. “That’s fine.”

  He didn’t eat anything for the rest of the day. He knew instinctively that Nick was a strong alpha male, with needs and urges that had to be satisfied. And he knew that if he let Nick get into his pants that night, he’d want to fuck. Stedman wanted to be prepared: he gave himself three enemas late that afternoon, cleaned his hole out with soap and water, and shaved every strand of hair from his body except for a small, triangular patch above his dick. He hoped that not eating, and cleaning himself out with enemas, would stop that awful feeling of having to go to the bathroom if Nick decided to fuck him.

  There was a knock at the door at nine o’clock sharp. Nick was wearing tight jeans bleached out at the thighs; his blond hair fell loosely around his face and the white V-neck T-shirt he wore hugged his chest so tightly it looked as if his muscles were ready to bust through the sheer cotton fabric. Stedman opened the door and smiled. He was wearing low-rise jeans with a wide, white belt, a black T-shirt, and two thick silver bracelets on each wrist. Nick leaned forward, placed his hands on Stedman’s waist, and kissed him on the lips. “I’ve been dying to do that since June,” Nick said.

  Stedman stepped back so he could enter. “You look good. This is probably the first time I’ve seen you in clothes.”

  “You look good, too. But I bet you look better without clothes.” Nick said. Then he reached behind Stedman’s back and grabbed his ass.

  Stedman stepped back and shut the front door. His knees were a little shaky and his tongue felt a little dry, but he liked that Nick was so aggressive. “Have a seat on one of the sofas and I’ll get drinks.” He crossed back to the kitchen; he knew Nick was staring at his ass. “Are martinis okay?”

  Nick nodded, and then he sat down on a black leather sofa. When Stedman returned, he handed Nick a martini and sat down on the other sofa…on the opposite side of the room. Nick lowered his eyebrows and tapped the sofa cushion. “Why don’t you sit over here next to me?”

  “I figured we could talk for a while, is all,” Stedman said. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled awkwardly. His heart was beginning to race and he felt the urge to run out of the room. He hated feeling this way; it wasn’t as if Nick were a total stranger. This night had been building all summer.

  Nick smiled, and then he rose from the sofa, crossed the room, and sat down next to Stedman. “You seem a little anxious,” he said, “I haven’t seen you this uptight since your first surf lesson when you were terrified to even look at the water.”

  “Ah, well…” Stedman said; he couldn’t look Nick in the eye.

  “Look, just so you know, I’m disease free, I don’t sleep around, and I’m basically a top in bed,” Nick said.

  Stedman frowned and stared at the glass coffee table. “There’s something about me you should know, too,” he said. “My fear of water wasn’t my only phobia: I’m terrified of anal sex. I don’t know why I am; I really want to like it. But the few times I’ve tried it, it’s always hurt so much I just gave up.”

  Nick placed his large hand on Stedman’s thigh, then he slowly ran it all the way up and rested it between Stedman’s legs. “How does that feel?”

  Stedman’s eyes closed and he spread his legs a little wider. “Not bad.”

  “Look,” Nick whispered, “If I can get you over your fear of water and get you on a surfboard, I think I can help you get over this fear, too. But you have to trust me, baby.”

  Stedman closed his eyes and sighed when Nick leaned forward and ran his tongue along the side of his face. Nick’s voice was low and his breathing grew heavier; both hands were now running all over Stedman’s legs. Stedman resisted; he tried to gently push back when Nick continued to spread his legs. But Nick would not back off until Stedman’s legs were open wide.

  “Okay,” Stedman said. “Let’s go up to the loft.” His hands were on the verge of shaking; suddenly swimming in the water seemed tame compared to all this.

  They undressed at the same time; both had vivid tan lines that began below their waists and ended midthigh. When Nick was on the bed, flat on his back with an erection, Stedman slowly pressed his face between Nick’s hairy legs and swallowed his dick. He may have been terrified of getting fucked, but he knew how to suck cock well and he wanted to prove it.

  He puffed his lips and pressed his warm tongue against the shaft. Then his cheekbones indented and his head bobbed up and down while he sucked Nick off. Nick closed his eyes and moaned; his legs moved around and his head went back each time his dick hit the back of Stedman’s throat. When Stedman wrapped his hand around the base of Nick’s dick and sucked the head for precum, Nick’s flat stomach jerked and his hips bucked. He licked salty pearls of clear juice and swallowed; Nick’s cock smelled like the sand on Carmel’s beach and tasted a little like the ocean.

  When Stedman began to roll Nick’s large, tangy balls in his mouth, jerking him off at the same time, Nick touched the back of Stedman’s head and said, “Get up here and sit on my face, baby.”

  Stedman looked up; his lips were swollen and red from cocksucking, he had a mouth full of balls, and his chin was wet. He was hoping he’d be able to get Nick off without fucking.

  “C’mon,” Nick said. “You’ll like this.”

  Stedman slowly climbed over Nick’s solid body; Nick seemed stronger and hairier without his shorts. He spread his smooth legs as wide as they would go, arched his back, and lowered his ass to Nick’s mouth. Nick closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue; the tip circled Stedman’s opening. He cupped Stedman’s ass with both hands and spread it apart. Then he pressed his entire tongue up against Stedman’s pink hole and started to press and lick.

  Stedman raised his arms and folded his hands at the back of his neck; he sucked in his stomach and arched his back while Nick licked and lapped his ass juice. No one had ever done anything like this to his hole. His nipples became hard and his dick was ready to explode. When Nick pointed his tongue and slipped it inside, Stedman’s eyes rolled back and his toes curled. He had to reach for the headboard when Nick started to playfully chew and bite his hole. And when Nick finally inserted a finger and slowly began to push it in and pull it out, it occurred to Stedman there wasn’t any pain.

  “That’s it, baby,” Nick said. “Just go with it, baby. It’s like surfing and fear of water; it’s all about the way you think.”

  Stedman gasped for breath and closed his eyes when Nick inserted a second finger. But it didn’t hurt; his hips started to move back and forth; he spread hi
s legs wider and moaned. So Nick shoved a third finger inside to see just how far he could go. When he didn’t hear any screams of pain, he smiled and finger-fucked even harder.

  When Stedman whispered “Deeper, Nick,” Nick finally said, “C’mon down and sit on my dick now, baby. I think I’ve got you relaxed and opened up enough.”

  Stedman backed away from Nick’s face and pointed his ass toward the direction of Nick’s groin. He placed his hands on Nick’s chest for balance, and Nick spit into his hand so he could lube his cock with saliva. When it was wet and slick, he reached around, grabbed the shaft, and pressed the head to Stedman’s puckered hole. “Now, I’m going to start working it inside, and you’re going to sit back slowly. Just concentrate on keeping your ass open and relaxed, and it will slide right in without any pain at all. It’s all in the mind, baby; just think about how much you want it.”

  Well.

  Stedman closed his eyes and slowly sat back; Nick’s cock slid into his open hole. When it was all the way inside, and his caramel asscheeks were pressed against white Nick’s pelvis, he closed his eyes and started to ride. At first he was cautious and he rode the big dick gradually; he kept wondering when the pain was going to start. But it didn’t take long for him to start bouncing hard. His ass slapped against Nick’s body; he gripped his own dick and started to jerk.

  “That’s it, baby,” Nick said. “Come for me, baby.” He gripped Stedman’s waist hard and started to buck faster.

  Stedman came first. He shot with such force, and so far, his cream went over Nick’s head and landed on the headboard. It was so powerful, his balls popped all the way up into his body.

  Nick bit his bottom lip and slapped him hard on the ass. “Now get up and lay down flat on your stomach.”

  When he was on his stomach, Nick climbed onto his back and shoved his dick inside again. Stedman spread his legs wide and closed his eyes, but it didn’t hurt when Nick began to do push-ups against his body. While Nick fucked hard, Stedman’s toes curled and his hole became numb. It didn’t take long before Nick slammed into his ass so hard you could hear the slaps. He shouted, “Oh, yeah, baby, oh, yeah.” And then he fell on Stedman’s back with all of his weight and started to rock slowly so that he could deposit every last drop.

  “Are you okay?” Nick asked; he pushed his dick even deeper. “I’m sorry I got so rough toward the end; I couldn’t help myself. You’ve got a soft, sweet hole, baby.”

  Nick’s voice was wrecked and there were drops of sweat sliding down his face onto Stedman’s neck. It occurred to Stedman that Nick was one of those top guys who tend to lose touch with reality while they are fucking; the ones who are so focused on the climax they forget about everything else toward the end. But the apology had been a nice touch; Nick didn’t have to do that. Stedman knew he’d never hurt him intentionally.

  “I’m fine; it didn’t hurt at all. Can we do that again tonight; just to see if it’s as good?” Nick still had him pinned to the bed; he rested his head against the sheets and closed his eyes while Nick slowly continued to buck.

  Nick laughed. “Don’t worry about that, baby. I’m going to ride you more times tonight than I rode the waves today.”

  Stedman took a deep breath and spread his legs a little more so Nick would stay inside as long as possible. But then he pressed his lips together and frowned for a moment. When he called his parents in Maine the next morning to give them a progress report about his surfing skills, he wouldn’t be able to tell them he’d just conquered his fear of getting fucked, too. And for Stedman, overcoming that fear had been just as important as surfing the highest, roughest wave in the world.

  SAMURAI OF THE SURF

  S. J. Frost

  Jostled between bodies on the overcrowded beach, Conner scanned the refined features, the dark eyes, the heads of black hair, for one Japanese man in particular. Though there were other Americans, Australians, and Europeans gathered at Kujukuri Beach for the pro-surf competition, at that moment, he felt like the only white boy in Japan.

  The cacophony of sound confused his hearing until nothing made sense. Excitedly spoken Japanese came from every direction. The voices of the MCs shouted information about the competition through the P.A. system, one speaking Japanese followed by a second repeating the words in English. Two stereos blended the high voice of Ayumi Hamasaki singing an energetic J-pop song with the driving beats of a track by the J-rock band, Abingdon Boys School.

  Kujukuri Beach was the second longest beach in Japan, and after walking for ten minutes without sight of his quarry, Conner wondered if he would ever see him. Then he wondered, if he did see him, would he say something this time, or chicken out like he had at all the other competitions?

  Conner sighed and looked up as the crowd broke before him. His eyes widened, his heart jumped. There he was, the man he’d been searching for, Kenji Takeda.

  Conner watched Kenji waxing his shortboard, a big wave gun of powder blue trimmed in lines of white and black, his hands moving in strong strokes that seemed to have become automatic to him long ago. On either side of Kenji, two young Japanese guys laughed between each other while casting quick glances in his direction. Kenji’s attention lifted from his board, and for the first time, Conner met his luminous black eyes. The sight of their obsidian beauty sealed his decision. He drew in a deep breath and marched toward the Japanese surfer.

  As he neared, one of Kenji’s companions sprang to his feet and called out in thickly accented English, “Hey, gaijin, we want to see your flag raise! Get a hard-on for us!”

  Conner stumbled to a halt, confused, then glanced down at the American flag-patterned board shorts he wore. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks pink. He couldn’t believe that, other than the niceties exchanged with workers at the airport and hotel, the first time a Japanese person was speaking to him was to mock him. Though, had those words come from Kenji’s mouth, he would’ve eagerly accommodated him rather than take them as an insult.

  Two loud cracks broke over the laughter of the young men, their snickering ending with yelps of pain.

  Conner stared in shock, and a little vindictive glee, at seeing Kenji smack his companions upside the backs of their heads with his hand. He watched Kenji turn on his friends, and though he spoke in Japanese, he didn’t need to understand the words to hear the anger in Kenji’s tone and see it in his stance. The two sat quietly, taking the reprimand with downcast gazes, and he knew then that Kenji was the source of leadership in the group, but that wasn’t surprising considering his command of natural forces when riding the waves.

  Kenji whirled away from his companions, his countenance still holding anger, and strode toward Conner. With each step Kenji neared, Conner’s heart beat faster. From Kenji’s first year going pro, five years prior, Conner had followed his career. Like himself, Kenji was one of the Top 44 on the ASP World Tour. Always a fierce competitor, Kenji had held the World Champion title for the past two years. Now seeing Kenji closer than he ever had, Conner couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over every inch of him.

  Like black silk, Kenji’s hair fell to the tops of his shoulders, half of it bound back in a ponytail. His facial features were delicately carved, his lips sensually shaped even pressed tight in irritation like they were now. Unlike his own skin that was tanned to light bronze, Kenji’s skin was a rich caramel hue. Conner brought his gaze to Kenji’s chest, smooth and thick with muscle. His eyes locked on Kenji’s small nipples, and his saliva content increased at the thought of covering them with his mouth. Kenji’s deltoids rippled with each swing of his arms, his abdomen tightened and released with every step his powerful legs took to push him through the dense sand.

  Kenji stopped before him, his expression softening with a smile. “I apologize for them,” he said, his English edged in a slight accent. “They’re too ignorant to be allowed in public.”

  “It’s cool. But I appreciate you slapping them for me.” He offered his hand to him. “I’m Conner Laurence.”

  Kenji
took Conner’s hand, holding it in a gentle grip. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You caught my attention last year when you first appeared on the scene. For your debut year, you did incredible. My name is—”

  “Kenji Takeda,” Conner filled in, flashing a bright smile. “I’ve watched you for years.”

  “It can’t be years. We look the same age.”

  Conner shook his head. “I’m twenty-one, two years younger than you.”

  Kenji raised one slender eyebrow, and a smirk claimed his lips. “You know my age? Do you know my height, weight, and blood type too?”

  “Five nine, one hundred and fifty-three pounds. Or as you’d say since your country’s a little sharper on the metric system, just over one hundred and seventy-five centimeters and about sixty-nine kilos. Sorry, I can’t remember your blood type, though.”

  Kenji laughed. “This is what I get for posting my stats on my website. Now I’m not sure if you’re a competitor or a stalker.”

  Conner drifted his eyes down Kenji’s body, then slowly returned his gaze to his face. “More like an admirer.”

  Kenji shifted closer to him. “That I like. Earlier you looked a little lost. Were you looking for something?”

  Conner’s eyes focused unwaveringly on Kenji’s. “You.”

  “Now that I really like.” Kenji flicked his head to the side. “Would you like to come with me to get something to drink?”

  Conner nodded and fell into stride beside him, walking close enough to brush his arm against Kenji’s. Where before he had struggled through the crowd, now it seemed people parted to allow Kenji to pass, and calls of, “Gambatte, Takeda-san!,” which as Kenji politely translated for him had several meanings, but all were along the lines of “Good luck” and “Do your best,” greeted him at every turn, proving that Kenji was without doubt the local favorite.