The usual disclaimer applies: Although some of the depicted in this story were inspired by actual events in the author's life, the characters and overall events are entirely works of fiction. Some of this material may not be legal to read in your jurisdiction; it's up to you to know what's legal and what's not and to follow all applicable laws. Enjoy!
*** Nude Beach Buddies
Chapter 1
"Heads up!" someone shouted in my direction mere seconds before a neon-colored frisbee landed near my towel. Had it flown just a few more inches -- and had I actually lifted my head up from the book my face was buried in -- no doubt it would have hit me in the temple.
And if that had happened, my first real interaction with Ryan would have gone way different. I probably would have been more annoyed than awe-struck.
Ryan and I went to school together, both freshmen, made possible by the fact that I'd skipped a grade in elementary school. I figured him to be about the same age as the other guys in my class -- 15 -- and doubt he knew I was a year younger than him. In fact, I doubt he even recognized me at all. We were never paired up together on group quizzes and barely acknowledged each other outside of class. Until this moment, I didn't really think about him.
But now, all I could do was take him in. His shaggy light blonde hair with dark highlights. His green eyes and bright smile. I put him around six feet, which would have made him look like a giant compared to me: A skinny 5-foot 5-inch teen with brown eyes and brown hair that seemed to fall straight down in something resembling a cross between a bad bowl haircut and a mophead (if I'd been born just a few years later, maybe I would have caught the height of Justin Bieber's teen popularity and fashioned my hair into something resembling his -- if I tried that now, it'd just wind up looking sad).
"Sorry about that, buddy," Ryan said to me as he ran over to get his frisbee. "That was close!"
"Yeah," I said, not really sure what to say. "It's okay."
"Hey, you look familiar," he said. "I feel like I've seen you somewhere before."
I shrugged.
"No, no. I've definitely seen you somewhere before," he said, fingers under his chin, head tilted slightly upward as if looking to the sky would somehow jog his memory. After a few seconds, his face scrunched into a quizzical look. "You come here often?"
"Most of my life," I replied, my social awkwardness really wanting this conversation to end while at the same time hoping I could find some words that would keep it going, if only so I could paint more of a mental picture of this moment.
And that picture, so far, went like this: Ryan, shirtless with a slight definition to his pecs. No tummy at all, but the faintest outline of abs -- not quite defined, but it looked like he's been working on it. Faint hair on his arms and his legs. No chest or tummy hair. Slightly broad shoulders. And board shorts that I wished were a bit more revealing...but no such luck there.
"Hmm," he said, interrupting my painting. "No, I still feel like I've seen you somewhere else."
"Maybe school?" I said, turning back to my book.
"Maybe. Which school do you go to?"
"Reed High."
"Oh yeah!" The lightbulb went off. "That's it! You're one of the smart kids. We have a class together, right? Chemistry?"
"Close," I replied. "English."
"Yeah, yeah, English. That's what I meant." That's not what he meant, but I wasn't about to correct him. Anyone else, and my cynicism would have shown itself by now, which is probably why I didn't come off as friendly to too many people. But I didn't have to try very hard to check myself in front of Ryan because, well, look at him!
"You don't strike me as the beachgoing type," he said.
"What makes you say that?" I said, turning back to him, noticing that his arms were now crossed in front of his chest -- and he had yet to pick up the frisbee.
"Well, you are a bit overdressed," he said, most likely referring to my t-shirt, shorts, hat and sunglasses. "Come on man, it's spring break! No better time to get a tan on, and no better place than here."
"We can't all look like you!" The words just tumbled out of my mouth before I had a chance to catch myself. Now I've done it.
"Why let that stop you?" he said with a smile. I shrugged.
"You here by yousrelf?" he asked.
"Nah, my brother," I said. "Well, kind of. He drops me off and goes into town for work."
"Oh, gotcha," Ryan said. "He goes to school with us too, right?"
"No. He graduated a few years ago. Works for a start-up now. Does a lot of driving. I go along sometimes for the quiet time at the beach."
"Is that a hint?" he asked, wondering if my "quiet time" comment was a suggestion he should go.
"No, no, not at all," I said, finally putting my book down and sitting up on my towel. "I'm just used to spending time by myself here. I don't really come here with anyone."
"I usually come with a group of buddies," Ryan said. "You're welcome to join us sometime if you'd like! We all take turns driving out here."
"Ah, well, I don't drive yet." I said, embarrassed by the admission. Ryan's in no way one of the "cool kids" at school, but he was cool in my eyes, and I could feel my combination of social awkwardness and lack of physical maturity eroding my cool factor in his mind.
"Oh," he said. "Well, whatever. You're still welcome."
"Thanks," I replied. "I might take you up on that."
"Maybe the more you come out here the more you can work on that non-tan," he joked.
I smiled. "I guess."
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Dan, my brother. "Ah crap," I said. "My brother's on his way to pick me up."
"Well, if you want to stay a little longer, I'm sure we can drop you off," Ryan offered.
Tempting. But..."That's okay, thanks. I'd better go with him."
"Suit yourself," Ryan said. "Let me see your phone a second."
Without thinking, I handed it over to him. He tapped the screen a few times and handed it back. "My number's in there. Shoot me a text or something sometime."
He winked, then ran off, leaving his frisbee behind. I grabbed it, wrapped everything in my towel, threw my stuff in a nylon bag and headed for the road.
"Jamie, what's going on?" Dan asked about 10 minutes into the car ride home "You're so quiet. Something happen at the beach?"
I stared out the window at the ocean. "Nah. Just thinking, I guess."
"What about?" Dan asked.
"Nothing, really," I lied. I was thinking about Ryan in his board shorts with his defined body and his slight tan, his dirty blond wavy hair and beautiful green eyes.
"Thinking about someone there? Maybe a cute guy?"
Even with a few years difference between us, Dan and I were pretty close. A few years back, when Dan was in high school, he'd tell me stories about some of the wild parties he'd go to when he was supposed to be studying. He'd tell me about the girls he'd get drunk with and hook up with. I eventually found out it wasn't just girls he'd hook up with -- one time, after school, when mom and dad were working late, I accidentally walked in on his best friend Josh giving Dan a blowjob. It's a long story, but let's just say, we didn't really keep much from each other. And that was when I learned what "gay" was.
Dan swore up and down he wasn't gay. Maybe a little bi-curious, but definitely not gay. He was just experimenting, he said. Part of growing up. I'd probably want to do it too someday, he said. We had a long conversation about sex that day, and occasionally followed up on that conversation in the weeks and months that followed. Lately, we haven't revisited the topic -- except when I came out to him last year. He asked me if I'd experimented at all. I hadn't, I told him, but I just had a feeling. I just knew what I wanted. Sometimes, I wonder if he feels like me walking in on him and Josh had an impact in that department. Sometimes, I wonder too.
"Jamie?"
"What?" I said, coming out of my daydream.
"Well? Did you meet anyone?"
"Oh," I stammered. "Not really. Just ran into someone from school, that's all."
"And?"
"And what? He's just this guy from my English class, that's all."
"Uh huh." Dan was not convinced. I was not a good liar.
"Uh huh what?" I shot back, trying to sound annoyed, but the smile that was cracking on my face gave it away.
"Come on. You haven't said two words to me since we left the beach. You just keep staring out the window."
"It's a nice day," I said, trying to change the subject. "We're lucky to have a view like this, you know. Not everyone in the world is this lucky."
"Yeah, I bet it's the view you're thinking about," Dan cracked. "But not of the ocean!"
"Shut up!" I said with a chuckle. He laughed.
"Okay, okay," he said. After a pause, he added: "Hey, I have to stop off somewhere real quick and get a few things."
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a CVS Pharmacy. Dan told me to wait in the car, and five minutes later, he came out with two plastic bags and a paper bag from the pharmacy.
"Here you go little bro!" he said, tossing me the paper bag as he got into the car.
"What's in this?" I asked.
"Duh. Open it! It's for you."
I opened it and looked at him. Inside was a box of Durex condoms and a tube of Astroglide lube.
"What the hell man?!"
He laughed. "I told you, they're for you! Figured you'd need them soon!"
"Dude! What gave you that idea?"
"Basically, the way you've been so quiet ever since you ran into that guy at the beach."
"Just because I ran into a classmate doesn't mean I want to fuck him!"
"Oh come on," Dan retorted. "I know what's going on. I know what it means when someone is super quiet and staring out the window like you are. I know what it means when you run into someone and you can't get them off your mind."
He wasn't wrong. I'd basically been thinking about Ryan the whole time. But I didn't want to admit that to Dan.
"Bullshit," I bluffed.
He laughed. "Okay, whatever. Hang on to them anyway, you never know when you might need them. Just don't wait too long -- those things have expiration dates!"
"Jesus Christ, Dan!" I said as he laughed. I rolled the top of the bag down to the base, closing it, then tossed it on the floor near the frisbee.
"Where'd you get that?" Dan asked, apparently noticing the neon frisbee for the first time.
"It's Ryan's," I replied quickly, only catching myself after the words came out.
"Ah, so this guy has a name!" Dan teased. I rolled my eyes again.
"We're just friends!" I stammered. "We're not even friends! He's just this guy in my class."
"So how'd you wind up with his frisbee?" Dan questioned. This interrogation was getting to be a bit too much.
"I don't know. He tossed it, I guess, and it landed near me. We recognized each other -- well, I recognized him, and it took him a second to figure out who I was -- and after our chat he forgot to grab it. Anything else you want to know?"
Dan seemed satisfied. "Nah. Just curious."
Damn it. Dan's lovely gesture with the condoms made me forget about for a hot second, but his line of questioning about the frisbee made me think of my hot classmate all over again. My brain was focused on Ryan's definition -- not quite there, but breaking through.
"Hey Dan?" I asked. "I have a question."
"Shoot."
"How long does it take for a guy to develop some muscles?"
Dan looked at me, then looked at the road. "I mean," he stammered, "it's pretty much whenever you start working out. Eat enough protein and do the right exercises and you'll get some definition on you too."
"It can't be that simple," I said.
"It's not simple," he replied. "It's something you have to work for. It doesn't happen overnight either. I was about your age when --"
"When you started fucking," I interrupted. "Yeah, I know, we just covered that."
"What I was going to say," Dan continued, "was I was about your age when I started eating better and working out. It took me a few months before I started seeing results, and about a year before I looked as good as I wanted to. It's something you have to maintain too, you can't just expect it to last forever once you get it. Except for one thing, that is."
"What one thing?" I asked.
"The buffer you are, the bigger your dick!" he said, adding a laugh at the end.
"Shut up," I said. "That's not how it works. Besides, I have no problem in that department." At last measurement, I was a solid five inches and still had room to grow.
"I know this much," Dan said, "if you get super fat, your dick looks smaller. Would you rather be huff and hung or fat and shrimp-dicked?"
I looked at him, not sure what to say.
"We don't really have to worry about that last one," Dan said. "Good genetics. Thanks, Mom and Dad!"
I just kept staring.
"Anyway," he continued, "I'm guessing this Ryan guy left an impression on you?"
"He's not muscular or buff," I said, "But I'm not going to lie to you, he's not that bad to look at."
"Right," Dan said. "I bet you got an eyeful today!"
"Not as much as you might think," I replied. "No shirt, but he was wearing board shorts."
"Ah," Dan said. "Too bad. Maybe you'll see him on the north part of the beach someday!"
"What's the north part?" I asked. Dan and I had been going to that beach as far back as I can remember, and Dan had been going probably since before I was born, but this was the first time I'd heard about a north part to the beach.
"You don't know about the north part?" Dan asked.
I thought we covered that base, I thought. "No?" I responded, more of a curious question than an answer.
"Didn't you wonder what was beyond the rocks?" Dan asked.
"Not really," I said. Mom and Dad had always told us to stay away from the rocks at the very north end of the beach, and I never really questioned what was beyond it. At a young age, I was too eager to play with the sand and swim in the low water to care very much, and as a teen I just stuck to the part of the beach we'd always gone to. I was familiar with it and not particularly eager to explore anything else.
"Let's just say, you'd see a lot more of this Ryan guy there than you did today," he said with a grin.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It's a nude beach," Dan bluntly answered
"No way!" I said. "Mom and Dad would never take us to a beach with a nude section. Do they even know?"
"Of course they knew," Dan said. "That's why they told us to stay away from it!" He paused. "Not that I ever did."
"Get out of here," I said. "You? A nude beach?"
"Yeah man," he said, as if I was just supposed to know he'd do that kind of thing. "It's no big deal. You see all sorts of people there. And all sorts of things."
"Like what?"
"Well, you hear all these stories about older people being nudists. But on the beach, it's the total opposite -- lots of young guys like us. Well, maybe not like you," he said, looking at me, then quickly looking back at the road.
"What's THAT supposed to mean?" I asked, spitting out the question like it was a bad taste in my mouth.
"Nothing, nothing." He moved on. "Anyway, it's a lot of young guys. Mostly guys in their 20s and 30s, but every now and then you'd see a few hot chicks. Usually in the summer. Sometimes old people, but not often. You have to go over the rocks to get there, and the older you get, the harder it is to go over them, I guess."
Hmm. Well, Dan certainly had my attention. "And you've gone there a lot?" I asked.
"Not a lot. Once or twice. Or maybe..." he paused, thinking. "Maybe a half-dozen times. I don't know, James. It's just another place."
"Well, did you...you know..."
"Did I what?"
"Did you get naked?"
"Of course," Dan said with a chuckle. "That's kind of why you go."
"And?"
"And what?"
"You weren't, like, intimidated or anything?"
"Nah," he said. "What's to be intimidated by? I know I look good! Like I said, have to maintain."
"That's not what I mean," I said. "I mean, getting naked in front of a bunch of strangers..."
"It's not a big deal," he said. "Sure, the first time you do it, you're a little nervous and a little hesitant. Everyone is. But then, you just...I don't know...go for it!"
"Huh." I said.
"Look, it's not for everyone," Dan said, like it was something controversial and he had to justify his life decisions to me. "It's fun, but I don't feel the need to do it all the time. You do get a killer tan that way though! And the ladies...whoo!"
"Yeah, the ladies," I said.
"Plenty of eye candy for you, little bro," he said. Here we go with the gay thing again. "I'm not saying you should try it or anything. I'm just saying, that's what's there."
We pulled into the driveway of our house. I jumped out of the car and grabbed my nylon bag, dumping the excess sand onto the lawn.
"Don't forget your frisbee and your bag!" Dan shouted.
"Thanks," I said before bolting through the front door.
A few minutes later, I started unpacking my bag in the bedroom I used to share with Dan. He moved out the year before to move in with his steady girlfriend of a few months -- not for me to judge -- and as close as we were, it was nice to have some space to myself and some privacy when it counts.
After unpacking my nylon bag, I tossed the frisbee on top of the dresser and the bag with the condoms and the lube into a drawer. Won't be needing those anytime soon, I thought.
I glanced over at the clock radio -- just after 4 in the afternoon. Mom and dad wouldn't be home for another two hours, which was usually the case, but with spring break upon me and no homework to do, I had two hours to kill and nothing to spend the time on.
Fatigued from the sun, I figured a nap was in order. But first, a shower -- I just came back from the ocean after all, and I definitely smelled like it.
I pulled my t-shirt over my head and tossed it on the bed. Dropped my shorts and tossed those on the bed too. Dressed in just my grey boxer-briefs, I walked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel off the shelf. I reached into the shower and turned the shower knob, knowing I'd have to wait a minute before the hot water kicked in.
While I waited, I checked myself out in the mirror. I didn't look that bad, but I definitely looked forward to taking some of Dan's advice -- eating some protein, developing a workout plan, adding some definition onto my body. Maybe by next summer, I'd have the courage to strip my shirt off on the beach. Maybe I'd look a little bit like Ryan, minus the blond hair and the green eyes. And the height -- at five foot eight inches, I was just a few inches shy of Ryan, who I figured was around six feet tall.
While gazing into the mirror, I hooked my thumbs around the waistband of my boxer-briefs and pulled them to the ground. Standing there completely naked, I wondered if I'd stand out or blend in on the once-unknown nude beach on the north end.
My circumcised dick, all five inches of it, hung limp. My balls held close to my body -- they'd dropped, but they weren't as big as the ones I'd seen on super buff twinks or college frat bros in porn. I figured it'd be another year, maybe two, before I developed anything like that, if at all. Not that what I was working with wasn't impressive anyway. I was pleased with it.
My pubes were straight and trimmed. Not that I was grooming to impress anyone. I just got tired of finding small strands of hair in my bedsheets in the morning. I was pretty sure if my parents saw those too, they'd have said something. But nobody ever did -- not when they did the laundry, or made the bed any one of the millions of times I forgot to make it on my own.
I glanced up and down at myself in the mirror. Skinny twink, I thought. But not in a bad way. Someone would probably find me bangable if I put myself out there. Hell, I didn't even know if I was a top or a bottom. I'd never even been kissed. All I knew about sex I'd either learned about in porn or from Dan.
The mirror fogged up, pulling me from my daydream. I stepped into the shower, soaped myself up and washed my hair. Normally I'd pay extra close attention to every part of my body, from my head to my toe -- I like being clean -- but I was growing more and more tired as the minutes went on. My goal was just to get the smell of ocean off my body so I could crawl into bed and take a nap.
Five minutes later, mission accomplished. I got out of the shower, ran a towel through my hair and wrapped the same towel around my waist. I picked up my clothes and threw them in the hamper.
Back in my bedroom, I walked in front of the wall-length mirror that doubled as my closet door. Dropping the towel in front of me, I examined my body once more, giving it a close inspection. Yeah, I'd look dead sexy with a little more definition, I thought. A little more definition like Ryan.
Which reminded me -- I still had his frisbee. I looked around for my phone, finding it on the nightstand near my bed. Still naked, I sat on the edge of the bed and opened my phone. Finding Ryan's number in my contacts, I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should send him a text -- and if so, what it should say. Would it seem too eager if I sent him a text just a few hours after running into him on the beach? Should I wait a day or two? Was I overthinking things?
I tapped the message icon and typed out "Hey, this Ryan?"
Still naked, I pulled the corner of my sheets and blanket, crawling under both. The phone dinged: "Yeah, who is this?"
I typed back: "Jamie. From the beach. English class."
I waited a few minutes, but there was no response. Unsure what to make of it, I put the phone on my nightstand and laid down on my pillow. I closed my eyes, and the mental image of Ryan on the beach returned.
The more I thought about him, the more the blood rushed to my dick. I thought about his shirtless body running toward me. His dirty blond surfer hair, his cute blue board shorts. His smile in response to every nervous reply I gave.
I put my hand on my chest, rubbing it up and down from my nipples to my naval, slowly feeling the smooth skin underneath my fingers. My dick grew harder. My mind raced with images of Ryan, from the reality that was before me earlier in the day to a fantasy of what might be if I was so lucky in the future.
I thought about Ryan and I laying on the beach, both of us with the faint definition of abs on our stomachs and the outline of pecks forming. Both of us shirtless, both of us in board shorts. As we lay on the beach, I reach over and rub his abs with the back of my hand. And then the front of it. I trace each ab with a finger. I move my whole hand up to his hard nipples. He glances over at me and flashes that killer smile. That sly smile that says, yeah, I know where this is going. We both tent in our pants, and I move my hand lower to the waistband of his shorts.
Meanwhile, back in my bedroom, my own dick was creating a very obvious tent in my sheets. Instinctively, I reached down to grab it, placing two fingers on the head of my cock, swirling the precum around before forming a fist around the shaft and moving it slowly up and down. My right hand on my cock, my left hand exploring my upper body. My breathing became shallower and shallower as my fist moved up and down my dick with a steady cadence.
In my mind, my hand was teasing the waistband of Ryan's shorts. My fingers lightly drummed the waistband, eventually roaming over to his drawstring, untying the white strings in a matter of seconds. My hand plunged slowly underneath the waistband, my fingers glossing over his smooth, trimmed pubes, eventually bumping into the base of his hard shaft.
That sent me over the edge. With one final thrust of my dick into my fist, the head of my dick erupted, one thick strand of cum shooting straight onto the sheets. Another two shots landed mostly on the sheet, a small amount hitting my stomach and pubes. Two smaller shots spurted onto my pubes, small globs mixing with the faint straight hair.
I sighed. My head swirled. My breathing returned to normal, but my heart raced. That was intense. One of the most-intense orgasms in recent memory. I laid there, my upper torso exposed, a cum stain growing more obvious on my sheets, my hand still on my hard but softening cock.
The phone dinged, breaking my concentration. I wiped up the cum on my body with the defiled sheet and grabbed the phone.
"Oh yeah man! What's up?"
I texted back: "Not much. Just got home. I have your frisbee."
I got up and grabbed a pair of clean boxers out of my dresser. I pulled the stained bedding off my bed, balled it up and ran downstairs to the washing machine, loading it up and turning it on, hoping I could get everything washed and dried before my parents came home.
Ding. "Oh, yeah man, thanks! I was wondering where that was. You going back soon?"
Dan was going into town again the next day. I guess I could ask him if he could pick me up and take me along for another day. The weather was expected to be nice anyway. And I could work on that non-tan.
"Yeah, I'll probably go tomorrow. You going?"
Moments later, he texted back: "I'll be there in the morning. We should meet up if you're down."
After what just happened in my bedroom? Yeah, I wanted to see him again. But I was also nervous. Clearly I was attracted to him. But I strongly doubted anything could happen. What if I popped a boner in front of him? That would be embarrassing. But again, maybe I was overthinking things. Maybe if I hung out with him again, he'd say or do something that would break my ever-developing crush. I don't know why I think like this.
"Yeah, we can meet up. Where at and what time?"
A few minutes go by. I threw a quilt on my bed -- this would have to do for my nap until my bedding is clean.
Finally, he texts back: "12:00. Text me when yo uget there. I'll be on the north side over the rocks."
Author's note: This is my first-ever story of this kind! I'd love to hear your gentle feedback, e-mail me at cullen.dyer@gmail.com, even if it's just to say hi! Chapter 2 is coming soon.