The Beach House
- Thread starter IDreamaboutMen
- Start date
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
That was me, as they finally kissed and collided with each other.
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
Again, well played, Chris!
This really is great writing. Good enough that, when notification arrived yesterday that the new chapter had appeared on Substack, I started at the very beginning and read through the entire story nonstop.
So sue me! It's not easy to find the newest chapter on the Substack page ...
Thanks for the feedback! Yes, I'm trying to figure out the best way to present these longer stories so they are easy to access. I wish there were a way to access them by chapter as the length might be becoming a bit problematic.
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
I'm fine with the length of your stories! This one especially.
And also, big thanks for your continuous supportThanks for the feedback! Yes, I'm trying to figure out the best way to present these longer stories so they are easy to access. I wish there were a way to access them by chapter as the length might be becoming a bit problematic.
I love your kind words and how you find even the smallest details.
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
And also, big thanks for your continuous support
A pleasure. And, well, you do those small details very well! And someone should be telling you they notice ...
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
Okay, guys, @IDreamaboutMen just posted the next chapter on Substack, so it should be here very soon.
And it is hot. Very hot. Joyful, too.
And the last line is kind of a hoot.
Also, quite a number of military similes and metaphors, I notice.
Including this:
Aw, Chris, now that's just low ...
And it is hot. Very hot. Joyful, too.
And the last line is kind of a hoot.
Also, quite a number of military similes and metaphors, I notice.
Including this:
Aw, Chris, now that's just low ...
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
Mats and Erik, in the morning:
"Well, Anna, we fixed it!"
"Well, Anna, we fixed it!"
Dear friends, here is the next part of The Beach House, as always you can read it in one go on my Substack. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts.
---
I dragged myself an inch closer to his lips and kissed him again. Oh, it was so nice.
No talking, no Gangnam Style, no banter—just a slow, deliberate kiss that meant something.
We stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, feeling the softness of our lips, the slight roughness of unshaven cheeks. Nose tips brushing. Bodies floating in perfect sync. My hands gripping the tube on either side of Mats, his holding my waist, the other stroking my back—slow, deliberate. The waves rocked us gently, with the sea adding its salty taste to everything.
So, we kissed again. And then again. And then once more.
And then... I remembered that our dicks were still rock hard, lazily grinding between our stomachs, slowly jerking off against each other with every movement.
That woke us up.
Mats tightened his grip around my thighs and started moving—slow, deliberate, grinding harder against me. That look was back, mischief laced with intent. He wanted more.
I held onto the tube, bracing myself as he moved against me, his hips rolling like the waves around us. And damn, those muscles. With nothing but the tube for support, he still managed to lift me slightly, shifting me exactly where he wanted.
His legs spread mine, his hand slipping between my cheeks again.
This time, his hand wasn’t there for the teasing strokes—not at all. His fingers had a mission. And to my surprise, my body moved to give him access… all the way.
As I shifted up, his breath landed warm against my chest. His grip on my waist adjusted lower, firmer, steadying me as his other hand went deeper, fingers slipping between my cheeks—now clearly focused on exploring my hole.
And to my further surprise? My body responded instantly. My back arched, instinct taking over, offering him full access. Just like that.
Surrendering like I was the French police at the German border.
Then he moved lower, gripping both my ass cheeks like he owned them. I had half a second to wonder what he was up to before I felt it—his tongue, teasing my cock, trailing along the length, then wrapping around the head.
Fuck. And he was doing this underwater.
If this is what all that windsurfing does to you – I’m a fan.
I had to drag the tube closer, locking my elbows over it, chest leaning forward to keep myself steady while Mats went at me like a dolphin on speed. His mouth worked my dick with shocking efficiency, moving back and forth, swallowing what felt like most of it, while one—or maybe two—of his fingers were very determined to work their way inside me.
I let more of my weight sink onto the tube, stabilizing him enough to keep working whatever magic he clearly excelled at.
His hand slid deeper, fingers pressing in, while his other trailed along my thigh. Meanwhile, his tongue—holy shit, that tongue—moved with the precision and pressure of a flying carpet. One of those good, tightly woven ones. Pure wool. None of that synthetic crap. One that Aladdin would have chosen, had he been a surfer.
My legs were spread so wide that one more inch would’ve made me a ballerina. Mats’ hands trailed along them as he let go of my dick, disappearing—only to reappear between my thighs.
The waves had carried us closer to shore, giving him solid ground beneath his feet. Then he climbed onto me, dragging himself up along my back, his chest pressing against my spine, his cock sliding over my ass as he moved. His breath was hot against my ear.
Without a word, he placed his hands over mine, gripping them where they held onto the tube. He was in control now. Then his hips pushed forward, his cock settling between my ass cheeks, grinding into place.
Grunting heavily while spitting saltwater, he focused on finding the right angle and spot for his dick to move further. Me? My body was doing impro, letting Mats take the lead.
The sensation of Mats on top of me, his dick probing for my hole, was… probably the most surprisingly exhilarating one I’d had in a very long time. And my body wasn’t just accepting it—it offered itself up like this had been its lifelong goal.
I’m a slut, apparently. Who’d have known?
Mats moved with firm resolve, his grip tightening over my hands, his chest pressing down against my back. He adjusted his hips, lined himself up, and pushed.
Suddenly, I felt sand beneath my feet—we were right at the water’s edge now. And before I knew it, my hard dick brushed against it too.
The sensation jolted through me, pure instinct kicking in. My body knew exactly what to do, adjusting without hesitation to make it as easy as possible for Mats to push inside me. Arching like the Ponte Vecchio, I barely breathed, completely engulfed by what was happening between my thighs.
Mats, now steadied by the sand, rested his knees against it, using his new leverage to drive his hips forward, his dick pressing insistently against me, demanding to get in.
And there was no way I would stop him.
His steady breathing, the quiet focus—it was like listening to the interlude before the Imperial forces marched forward.
One hand pressed firmly on my ass, the other gripping his dick, steering it with precision.
I felt the head pushing, insistent, seawater the only lubricant. My knees dug into the sand, thighs spread wide, ready for whatever he had to give.
And boy, was he giving it to me.
Not once—not once—had I ever imagined I’d have anyone’s dick in my ass, let alone Mats’. For fuck’s sake, I’d never even fantasized about us having sex. And when it comes to fantasies… well, I’m usually the one doing the exploring. So what the actual fuck was going on? My brain spun, filling up with questions.
Then he got in.
And just like that, no more questions.
His dick was inside and I could feel the excitement in his posture.
His dick was inside me, and I could feel it. Very well. I could also feel his excitement, the shift in his body, the careful tension in his muscles.
Wait. Wait. Wait! That was all I could think of saying.
And Mats, the unexpectedly gentle, considerate intruder he was, waited. His hips moved just slightly—slow, patient—rotating his dick just enough, coaxing my body to accept him.
My shoulders arched away from it all, instinctively pulling back, while my ass—that traitor —arched into it. My body adjusting, aligning, as if Mats’ firm grip on my hips was the only thing keeping me steady. He stayed put, attentively waiting for my ass to cool the fuck down.
And for the second time that evening, deep breaths were the phrase I told myself.
Then, I breathed and whispered:
– OK… cool… do it.
And Mats pushed deeper.
I felt it, inch by inch, stretching, filling, the pain slowly loosening its grip—giving way to something else. Something very different.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation, on the image in my mind: his big, thick dick, squeezed tight, the rim of his head teasing as it moved further inside me. That big dick inside of me. Mats lust channeled to that big dick inside of me.
I liked that image. It felt… good.
Mats pressed in further, leaning more over me, adjusting his angle, his breath hot against my back and shoulders. As he got deeper, one hand slid up to my shoulder, gripping it firmly. Steadying me. Steadying us
And then, just as I felt his pubes press against my ass, he started to move.
He began fucking me.
I clung to that tube like it was a long-lost teddy bear, eyes shut, completely focused on the sensations spreading through my body as Mats’ dick moved inside me—slow at first, then with more confidence, identifying every nerve that could make me shiver.
It was like he was playing an instrument—some unholy combination of an organ (pun very much intended) and a washboard, every ridge inside me sending sparks as he slid in and out. My body responded instinctively, hips moving with him, feeding off the friction, the heat, the relentless, electrifying sensation of being filled.
My ass was so on board for whatever Mats wanted.
And so was I.
He leaned in, breath heavy, thrusts sharper now, more force behind them. His hand on my neck tightened, and his grunts grew rougher. His hips set the rhythm, and I followed, adjusting, angling, doing whatever I could to intensify the fire his cock was lighting inside me. Arching, stretching, opening up as wide as I could take him.
I swear, I could feel the head of his dick pressing my navel into oblivion.
He’d told me once that he loved fucking doggy style. I told him I was more of a missionary man. But the image of him pounding into someone—anyone—had stuck with me.
And here I was, ass full of him, feeling his brute-force lust hammering inside me. No resistance. No hesitation. Just raw, desperate pleasure, and me, fucking him back with everything I had.
Yes, that tight ass of mine can move when it wants to.
The combination of Mats thrusting into me and the waves pushing us had landed us on the sand. The tube rested there firmly now, giving me better leverage to push back. I adjusted my stance, feeling the ground beneath me, and tested a slow roll of my hips. Fuck, that felt good.
– Try letting go, I said, and Mats loosened his grip on my neck, straightening onto his knees behind me. He hesitated for a second, hands hovering over my hips like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.
Then I started moving. A slow, deliberate grind, working my ass back and forth along his dick, dragging him over every sensitive spot, teasing the thick head as it pressed deep. My body knew exactly what it wanted, and right now, it wanted everything Mats could give.
And believe you me, there wasn’t a single sensory cell in my ass that wasn’t standing at attention, practically saluting, ready to be set ablaze by the forces it unleashed.
But I wasn’t the only happy guy around.
– Oh Erik, he panted. Fuck, that’s nice. So nice.
His hands swept along my back, slow, reverent, only adding to the pleasure. And I was gone, completely absorbed by the way he was working inside me, the electric currents buzzing through every nerve.
But there was just this one thing.
I wanted to see Mats fucking me.
Yeah, he’s a doggy-style kind of guy. But me? I’m a Missionary Man.
And also, the Atlantic was getting cold.
So, while I kept us very occupied by fucking him, I whispered,
– Come, let’s try the beach. I want to try a thing.
Mats leaned in, teasingly biting my earlobe.
– Oh? And what is it you wanna try?
– I’ll show you.
I felt him slowly drag his dick out of me, and we both—somewhat unsteadily—got to our feet, legs trembling like we’d just finished a goddamn triathlon.
Now it was my turn to take his hand.
I’d spotted the plaids the girls had left behind, so I led us there, still catching my breath. Then I turned, kissed him, and wrapped my fingers around that still very hard cock of his, stroking him slow, teasing.
– I want to see you fucking me. I want to kiss you while feeling you inside.
His grin was instant, his kiss just as eager.
– Hell yeah, I’ll fuck you anyway you want.
We barely spoke after that, working fast, folding one of the plaids to the right height—our best estimate, at least—before I lay back on another. Mats knelt between my legs, sliding the makeshift cushion under my ass, his hands firm, steady.
Now, this was a sight to see.
The moonlight carved out every sharp detail of his body—those broad, sculpted shoulders, the messy hair catching the light like it had been dusted with pearls. And that grin, wide and unfiltered, teeth gleaming like he had just won the goddamn lottery.
But what really got me? That heavy, thick dick of his, resting on mine as he adjusted his stance, thighs spreading just enough to line himself up.
Yeah. Worth the wait.
To be continued after the jump.
---
I dragged myself an inch closer to his lips and kissed him again. Oh, it was so nice.
No talking, no Gangnam Style, no banter—just a slow, deliberate kiss that meant something.
We stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, feeling the softness of our lips, the slight roughness of unshaven cheeks. Nose tips brushing. Bodies floating in perfect sync. My hands gripping the tube on either side of Mats, his holding my waist, the other stroking my back—slow, deliberate. The waves rocked us gently, with the sea adding its salty taste to everything.
So, we kissed again. And then again. And then once more.
And then... I remembered that our dicks were still rock hard, lazily grinding between our stomachs, slowly jerking off against each other with every movement.
That woke us up.
Mats tightened his grip around my thighs and started moving—slow, deliberate, grinding harder against me. That look was back, mischief laced with intent. He wanted more.
I held onto the tube, bracing myself as he moved against me, his hips rolling like the waves around us. And damn, those muscles. With nothing but the tube for support, he still managed to lift me slightly, shifting me exactly where he wanted.
His legs spread mine, his hand slipping between my cheeks again.
This time, his hand wasn’t there for the teasing strokes—not at all. His fingers had a mission. And to my surprise, my body moved to give him access… all the way.
As I shifted up, his breath landed warm against my chest. His grip on my waist adjusted lower, firmer, steadying me as his other hand went deeper, fingers slipping between my cheeks—now clearly focused on exploring my hole.
And to my further surprise? My body responded instantly. My back arched, instinct taking over, offering him full access. Just like that.
Surrendering like I was the French police at the German border.
Then he moved lower, gripping both my ass cheeks like he owned them. I had half a second to wonder what he was up to before I felt it—his tongue, teasing my cock, trailing along the length, then wrapping around the head.
Fuck. And he was doing this underwater.
If this is what all that windsurfing does to you – I’m a fan.
I had to drag the tube closer, locking my elbows over it, chest leaning forward to keep myself steady while Mats went at me like a dolphin on speed. His mouth worked my dick with shocking efficiency, moving back and forth, swallowing what felt like most of it, while one—or maybe two—of his fingers were very determined to work their way inside me.
I let more of my weight sink onto the tube, stabilizing him enough to keep working whatever magic he clearly excelled at.
His hand slid deeper, fingers pressing in, while his other trailed along my thigh. Meanwhile, his tongue—holy shit, that tongue—moved with the precision and pressure of a flying carpet. One of those good, tightly woven ones. Pure wool. None of that synthetic crap. One that Aladdin would have chosen, had he been a surfer.
My legs were spread so wide that one more inch would’ve made me a ballerina. Mats’ hands trailed along them as he let go of my dick, disappearing—only to reappear between my thighs.
The waves had carried us closer to shore, giving him solid ground beneath his feet. Then he climbed onto me, dragging himself up along my back, his chest pressing against my spine, his cock sliding over my ass as he moved. His breath was hot against my ear.
Without a word, he placed his hands over mine, gripping them where they held onto the tube. He was in control now. Then his hips pushed forward, his cock settling between my ass cheeks, grinding into place.
Grunting heavily while spitting saltwater, he focused on finding the right angle and spot for his dick to move further. Me? My body was doing impro, letting Mats take the lead.
The sensation of Mats on top of me, his dick probing for my hole, was… probably the most surprisingly exhilarating one I’d had in a very long time. And my body wasn’t just accepting it—it offered itself up like this had been its lifelong goal.
I’m a slut, apparently. Who’d have known?
Mats moved with firm resolve, his grip tightening over my hands, his chest pressing down against my back. He adjusted his hips, lined himself up, and pushed.
Suddenly, I felt sand beneath my feet—we were right at the water’s edge now. And before I knew it, my hard dick brushed against it too.
The sensation jolted through me, pure instinct kicking in. My body knew exactly what to do, adjusting without hesitation to make it as easy as possible for Mats to push inside me. Arching like the Ponte Vecchio, I barely breathed, completely engulfed by what was happening between my thighs.
Mats, now steadied by the sand, rested his knees against it, using his new leverage to drive his hips forward, his dick pressing insistently against me, demanding to get in.
And there was no way I would stop him.
His steady breathing, the quiet focus—it was like listening to the interlude before the Imperial forces marched forward.
One hand pressed firmly on my ass, the other gripping his dick, steering it with precision.
I felt the head pushing, insistent, seawater the only lubricant. My knees dug into the sand, thighs spread wide, ready for whatever he had to give.
And boy, was he giving it to me.
Not once—not once—had I ever imagined I’d have anyone’s dick in my ass, let alone Mats’. For fuck’s sake, I’d never even fantasized about us having sex. And when it comes to fantasies… well, I’m usually the one doing the exploring. So what the actual fuck was going on? My brain spun, filling up with questions.
Then he got in.
And just like that, no more questions.
His dick was inside and I could feel the excitement in his posture.
His dick was inside me, and I could feel it. Very well. I could also feel his excitement, the shift in his body, the careful tension in his muscles.
Wait. Wait. Wait! That was all I could think of saying.
And Mats, the unexpectedly gentle, considerate intruder he was, waited. His hips moved just slightly—slow, patient—rotating his dick just enough, coaxing my body to accept him.
My shoulders arched away from it all, instinctively pulling back, while my ass—that traitor —arched into it. My body adjusting, aligning, as if Mats’ firm grip on my hips was the only thing keeping me steady. He stayed put, attentively waiting for my ass to cool the fuck down.
And for the second time that evening, deep breaths were the phrase I told myself.
Then, I breathed and whispered:
– OK… cool… do it.
And Mats pushed deeper.
I felt it, inch by inch, stretching, filling, the pain slowly loosening its grip—giving way to something else. Something very different.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation, on the image in my mind: his big, thick dick, squeezed tight, the rim of his head teasing as it moved further inside me. That big dick inside of me. Mats lust channeled to that big dick inside of me.
I liked that image. It felt… good.
Mats pressed in further, leaning more over me, adjusting his angle, his breath hot against my back and shoulders. As he got deeper, one hand slid up to my shoulder, gripping it firmly. Steadying me. Steadying us
And then, just as I felt his pubes press against my ass, he started to move.
He began fucking me.
I clung to that tube like it was a long-lost teddy bear, eyes shut, completely focused on the sensations spreading through my body as Mats’ dick moved inside me—slow at first, then with more confidence, identifying every nerve that could make me shiver.
It was like he was playing an instrument—some unholy combination of an organ (pun very much intended) and a washboard, every ridge inside me sending sparks as he slid in and out. My body responded instinctively, hips moving with him, feeding off the friction, the heat, the relentless, electrifying sensation of being filled.
My ass was so on board for whatever Mats wanted.
And so was I.
He leaned in, breath heavy, thrusts sharper now, more force behind them. His hand on my neck tightened, and his grunts grew rougher. His hips set the rhythm, and I followed, adjusting, angling, doing whatever I could to intensify the fire his cock was lighting inside me. Arching, stretching, opening up as wide as I could take him.
I swear, I could feel the head of his dick pressing my navel into oblivion.
He’d told me once that he loved fucking doggy style. I told him I was more of a missionary man. But the image of him pounding into someone—anyone—had stuck with me.
And here I was, ass full of him, feeling his brute-force lust hammering inside me. No resistance. No hesitation. Just raw, desperate pleasure, and me, fucking him back with everything I had.
Yes, that tight ass of mine can move when it wants to.
The combination of Mats thrusting into me and the waves pushing us had landed us on the sand. The tube rested there firmly now, giving me better leverage to push back. I adjusted my stance, feeling the ground beneath me, and tested a slow roll of my hips. Fuck, that felt good.
– Try letting go, I said, and Mats loosened his grip on my neck, straightening onto his knees behind me. He hesitated for a second, hands hovering over my hips like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.
Then I started moving. A slow, deliberate grind, working my ass back and forth along his dick, dragging him over every sensitive spot, teasing the thick head as it pressed deep. My body knew exactly what it wanted, and right now, it wanted everything Mats could give.
And believe you me, there wasn’t a single sensory cell in my ass that wasn’t standing at attention, practically saluting, ready to be set ablaze by the forces it unleashed.
But I wasn’t the only happy guy around.
– Oh Erik, he panted. Fuck, that’s nice. So nice.
His hands swept along my back, slow, reverent, only adding to the pleasure. And I was gone, completely absorbed by the way he was working inside me, the electric currents buzzing through every nerve.
But there was just this one thing.
I wanted to see Mats fucking me.
Yeah, he’s a doggy-style kind of guy. But me? I’m a Missionary Man.
And also, the Atlantic was getting cold.
So, while I kept us very occupied by fucking him, I whispered,
– Come, let’s try the beach. I want to try a thing.
Mats leaned in, teasingly biting my earlobe.
– Oh? And what is it you wanna try?
– I’ll show you.
I felt him slowly drag his dick out of me, and we both—somewhat unsteadily—got to our feet, legs trembling like we’d just finished a goddamn triathlon.
Now it was my turn to take his hand.
I’d spotted the plaids the girls had left behind, so I led us there, still catching my breath. Then I turned, kissed him, and wrapped my fingers around that still very hard cock of his, stroking him slow, teasing.
– I want to see you fucking me. I want to kiss you while feeling you inside.
His grin was instant, his kiss just as eager.
– Hell yeah, I’ll fuck you anyway you want.
We barely spoke after that, working fast, folding one of the plaids to the right height—our best estimate, at least—before I lay back on another. Mats knelt between my legs, sliding the makeshift cushion under my ass, his hands firm, steady.
Now, this was a sight to see.
The moonlight carved out every sharp detail of his body—those broad, sculpted shoulders, the messy hair catching the light like it had been dusted with pearls. And that grin, wide and unfiltered, teeth gleaming like he had just won the goddamn lottery.
But what really got me? That heavy, thick dick of his, resting on mine as he adjusted his stance, thighs spreading just enough to line himself up.
Yeah. Worth the wait.
To be continued after the jump.
I reached blindly for a bottle lying nearby—sunscreen, probably abandoned after the girls’ burn crisis earlier. I handed it to him, and he squeezed some into his palm, spreading it over his cock with deliberate strokes. I watched, spellbound, as he slicked himself up, every motion slow, controlled, fucking mesmerizing.
Then, his hand was between my legs, fingers working me open, spreading the lotion over my hole. I gripped my thighs, pulling my legs in closer, breath catching as he lined himself up.
And that was it. That was all I could ever ask for.
His thick cock pressed against me, and then, with one steady push, he was inside. Still rock-hard, still thick, still stretching me wide.
The scent of coconut filled the air, mixing with the salt of his skin. The contrast—the soft, sweet smell, the sheer force of his body, the way his grip tightened around my ankles—sent me somewhere far beyond reason.
He bottomed out, holding deep for a second, his pubes pressed against me, before pulling back and sliding in again. Then again. And then, with that smooth, easy rhythm he seemed to have mastered in every part of life, Mats began the fucking.
And this time, it was even better.
This time, I felt it all—his balls slapping against my ass with every deep thrust, the heat radiating from his skin, the flex of his muscles as he fucked me with focused, deliberate force. His breath, hot against my chest. His hands, gripping, claiming, owning the moment.
But it was my ass. And I wanted more of him.
I reached out, fingers tracing the ridges of his chest, brushing over his nipples, teasing the trail of hair between his pecs. His grunts told me exactly how much he liked that. My hands kept exploring, gliding up his neck, stroking the sharp edge of his jaw, before gently cupping his cheek.
Then, I pulled him down to me.
My legs spread wider, opening up for him, welcoming him in. His hips never lost their rhythm, rolling into me, sending waves of pleasure through my body—fireworks, champagne, the whole goddamn New Year’s Eve display.
His face hovered inches from mine, close enough for me to see it all.
Those eyes. Fuck. So focused, so intense, pupils blown wide, pleasure darkening them until they were nothing but raw, desperate want.
This boy wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck me.
And he was fucking good.
I pulled him in the rest of the way, crushing our mouths together, kissing him deep, hungry. My hands locked behind his neck, keeping him right where I wanted him. No space, no hesitation, no fucking distance.
I wanted all of him. All of his body. All of his lust.
His passion.
And he gave it to me.
I’d had his dick in my mouth. Now, I had it inside my ass. And fuck, the boy delivered.
His kissing turned desperate, his breath hot and ragged, lips moving fast, greedy, needing. Saliva smeared across my cheek, down my chest—messy, wet, perfect.
As he leaned over me, I reached for my dick with a free hand and started jerking off, each thrust of his sending shockwaves through me.
The energy charging my ass shot straight up to my cock, standing there like a damn midsummer pole, ready for the dancing. The head was so swollen it felt like it could explode, and the second I touched it, I knew—the orgasm was gathering its disciples, lining up in my hips, my groin, my ass, my stomach, my spine.
And then Mats must have felt it too—because he unleashed hell all over again.
His eyes locked onto mine, dark and wild, hips snapping forward like his life depended on it. He fucked me like a man on a mission, his dick tunneling deeper, harder like it was carving a goddamn tight pathway to heaven.
And then he groaned. A deep, guttural sound that sent me spiraling. His whole body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring before he slammed forward one last time, so deep it lifted me off our makeshift cushion. His dick slid out of me just as his orgasm hit, shooting thick, glistening ropes of cum over my cock, my stomach, everywhere.
The moment I felt that first hot splash, my entire body seized—and then erupted.
I came like a fucking geyser, white-hot pleasure bursting through me, every pulse dragging another shiver from my spine, another moan from my throat. I grabbed the back of his neck like a lifeline, holding onto him as my cock emptied itself, load after load spilling between us.
Mats wasn’t done, not even close. His dick kept twitching, unloading onto me, his hips jerking in stuttering, helpless aftershocks, as if they were paralyzed by the force of what had just ripped through him.
His dick twitched, sending off final spurts in loads worthy of a goddamn whale. Mine—its proud brother—stood there, pumped and gleaming, like Schwarzenegger stepping onto a podium.
None of us had expected this. I knew I hadn’t.
My ass was still twitching with aftershocks, my body covered in our cum and Mats’ sweat. We both coughed, catching our breath. Mats wiped his mouth, suddenly aware of the spit dripping from his lips—the same spit already smeared across mine.
Then he collapsed on top of me, his head resting against my cheek. For the first time, I felt it—the full weight of every muscle that man had sculpted, pressed against me. Heavy. Solid. Mine—yeah, for now, he was mine.
I let my arm drape around his neck, my fingers idly smearing through the cum cooling on my stomach, my cock still half-hard beneath it. As was Mats’. A dick that, until this morning, I’d never seen hard, or even semi—never in any context that would suggest this.
And yet. Here we were.
He let out a slow breath against my ear, then, in that lazy, satisfied drawl of his, whispered—
“Even you have to admit—that was proper sex.”
I heard the smirk in his voice before I saw it.
“Yeah,” I murmured, fingers absently stroking through his damp hair. “That was proper sex.”
I glanced up at him, grinning.
“Fucking good sex, for that matter.”
Mats propped himself up on his hands, looking down at me, sweat-damp curls falling into his eyes.
“It was fucking amazing, right?” He said it like it was a question, like he couldn’t rely on himself for an answer.
“Fucking amazing sums it up… yeah.”
Mats sat back on his knees, my thighs resting on his, taking in the scene before him. Then, with that ever-present glint in his eye, he reached for my dick—still semi-hard, streaked with cum. He ran a slow thumb over the head, then bent down and licked it clean, his tongue dragging along the shaft, deliberate, teasing.
His gaze locked onto mine, that mischievous smile lingering.
“You taste good. Mah maaan.”
He leaned forward, kissed me—slow, warm—then grabbed my hand to pull me up. We shifted, legs tangled together, settling into a loose embrace just as a chilly breeze rolled in from the sea.
“Fuck, haven’t thought about the weather for a while,” he murmured into my ear.
“Well, if you had, I’d have to kill you. No self-esteem in the world'd survive a weather check after sex.”
He chuckled, reaching for the blanket beside us.
“Erik, trust me—you should never, ever have a self-esteem issue. Not with me. Not with anyone.” He shook his head. “This was… fucking magic.”
I huffed a small laugh, but before I could reply, my fingers brushed against something buried in the sand.
“Well, hey presto, look what the cat dragged in.”
Mats grinned as I pulled out the bottle we’d left to chill.
“Oh, I love that cat.”
We soon found the glasses, shifted around until we were comfortable, wrapped up in the plaid, and poured the wine.
— Cheers, mate, I said, raising my glass. — One can’t deny there’s a certain je ne sais quoi about really good sex.
— There certainly is, Mats said, smirking as he swirled his wine. — And as I said before, you can je ne sais quoi me anytime.
We took a sip—well, we downed the whole glass, to be honest. There had been way too little hydration the last 24 hours.
— So, is this how the week’s gonna be? Mats asked, refilling his glass. — Us fucking like rabbits and never drinking water?
I shrugged.
— Yeah, why not? I heard there’s way too much chlorine in the water here anyway, so maybe we're just being very responsible.
Mats gave me a long look, then chuckled and lay back against the dune. The moon drifted lazily above the calm ocean.
— Two rabbits and a bottle of wine… he mused. — I think we made Beatrix Potter very proud tonight.
To be continued...
Then, his hand was between my legs, fingers working me open, spreading the lotion over my hole. I gripped my thighs, pulling my legs in closer, breath catching as he lined himself up.
And that was it. That was all I could ever ask for.
His thick cock pressed against me, and then, with one steady push, he was inside. Still rock-hard, still thick, still stretching me wide.
The scent of coconut filled the air, mixing with the salt of his skin. The contrast—the soft, sweet smell, the sheer force of his body, the way his grip tightened around my ankles—sent me somewhere far beyond reason.
He bottomed out, holding deep for a second, his pubes pressed against me, before pulling back and sliding in again. Then again. And then, with that smooth, easy rhythm he seemed to have mastered in every part of life, Mats began the fucking.
And this time, it was even better.
This time, I felt it all—his balls slapping against my ass with every deep thrust, the heat radiating from his skin, the flex of his muscles as he fucked me with focused, deliberate force. His breath, hot against my chest. His hands, gripping, claiming, owning the moment.
But it was my ass. And I wanted more of him.
I reached out, fingers tracing the ridges of his chest, brushing over his nipples, teasing the trail of hair between his pecs. His grunts told me exactly how much he liked that. My hands kept exploring, gliding up his neck, stroking the sharp edge of his jaw, before gently cupping his cheek.
Then, I pulled him down to me.
My legs spread wider, opening up for him, welcoming him in. His hips never lost their rhythm, rolling into me, sending waves of pleasure through my body—fireworks, champagne, the whole goddamn New Year’s Eve display.
His face hovered inches from mine, close enough for me to see it all.
Those eyes. Fuck. So focused, so intense, pupils blown wide, pleasure darkening them until they were nothing but raw, desperate want.
This boy wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck me.
And he was fucking good.
I pulled him in the rest of the way, crushing our mouths together, kissing him deep, hungry. My hands locked behind his neck, keeping him right where I wanted him. No space, no hesitation, no fucking distance.
I wanted all of him. All of his body. All of his lust.
His passion.
And he gave it to me.
I’d had his dick in my mouth. Now, I had it inside my ass. And fuck, the boy delivered.
His kissing turned desperate, his breath hot and ragged, lips moving fast, greedy, needing. Saliva smeared across my cheek, down my chest—messy, wet, perfect.
As he leaned over me, I reached for my dick with a free hand and started jerking off, each thrust of his sending shockwaves through me.
The energy charging my ass shot straight up to my cock, standing there like a damn midsummer pole, ready for the dancing. The head was so swollen it felt like it could explode, and the second I touched it, I knew—the orgasm was gathering its disciples, lining up in my hips, my groin, my ass, my stomach, my spine.
And then Mats must have felt it too—because he unleashed hell all over again.
His eyes locked onto mine, dark and wild, hips snapping forward like his life depended on it. He fucked me like a man on a mission, his dick tunneling deeper, harder like it was carving a goddamn tight pathway to heaven.
And then he groaned. A deep, guttural sound that sent me spiraling. His whole body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring before he slammed forward one last time, so deep it lifted me off our makeshift cushion. His dick slid out of me just as his orgasm hit, shooting thick, glistening ropes of cum over my cock, my stomach, everywhere.
The moment I felt that first hot splash, my entire body seized—and then erupted.
I came like a fucking geyser, white-hot pleasure bursting through me, every pulse dragging another shiver from my spine, another moan from my throat. I grabbed the back of his neck like a lifeline, holding onto him as my cock emptied itself, load after load spilling between us.
Mats wasn’t done, not even close. His dick kept twitching, unloading onto me, his hips jerking in stuttering, helpless aftershocks, as if they were paralyzed by the force of what had just ripped through him.
His dick twitched, sending off final spurts in loads worthy of a goddamn whale. Mine—its proud brother—stood there, pumped and gleaming, like Schwarzenegger stepping onto a podium.
None of us had expected this. I knew I hadn’t.
My ass was still twitching with aftershocks, my body covered in our cum and Mats’ sweat. We both coughed, catching our breath. Mats wiped his mouth, suddenly aware of the spit dripping from his lips—the same spit already smeared across mine.
Then he collapsed on top of me, his head resting against my cheek. For the first time, I felt it—the full weight of every muscle that man had sculpted, pressed against me. Heavy. Solid. Mine—yeah, for now, he was mine.
I let my arm drape around his neck, my fingers idly smearing through the cum cooling on my stomach, my cock still half-hard beneath it. As was Mats’. A dick that, until this morning, I’d never seen hard, or even semi—never in any context that would suggest this.
And yet. Here we were.
He let out a slow breath against my ear, then, in that lazy, satisfied drawl of his, whispered—
“Even you have to admit—that was proper sex.”
I heard the smirk in his voice before I saw it.
“Yeah,” I murmured, fingers absently stroking through his damp hair. “That was proper sex.”
I glanced up at him, grinning.
“Fucking good sex, for that matter.”
Mats propped himself up on his hands, looking down at me, sweat-damp curls falling into his eyes.
“It was fucking amazing, right?” He said it like it was a question, like he couldn’t rely on himself for an answer.
“Fucking amazing sums it up… yeah.”
Mats sat back on his knees, my thighs resting on his, taking in the scene before him. Then, with that ever-present glint in his eye, he reached for my dick—still semi-hard, streaked with cum. He ran a slow thumb over the head, then bent down and licked it clean, his tongue dragging along the shaft, deliberate, teasing.
His gaze locked onto mine, that mischievous smile lingering.
“You taste good. Mah maaan.”
He leaned forward, kissed me—slow, warm—then grabbed my hand to pull me up. We shifted, legs tangled together, settling into a loose embrace just as a chilly breeze rolled in from the sea.
“Fuck, haven’t thought about the weather for a while,” he murmured into my ear.
“Well, if you had, I’d have to kill you. No self-esteem in the world'd survive a weather check after sex.”
He chuckled, reaching for the blanket beside us.
“Erik, trust me—you should never, ever have a self-esteem issue. Not with me. Not with anyone.” He shook his head. “This was… fucking magic.”
I huffed a small laugh, but before I could reply, my fingers brushed against something buried in the sand.
“Well, hey presto, look what the cat dragged in.”
Mats grinned as I pulled out the bottle we’d left to chill.
“Oh, I love that cat.”
We soon found the glasses, shifted around until we were comfortable, wrapped up in the plaid, and poured the wine.
— Cheers, mate, I said, raising my glass. — One can’t deny there’s a certain je ne sais quoi about really good sex.
— There certainly is, Mats said, smirking as he swirled his wine. — And as I said before, you can je ne sais quoi me anytime.
We took a sip—well, we downed the whole glass, to be honest. There had been way too little hydration the last 24 hours.
— So, is this how the week’s gonna be? Mats asked, refilling his glass. — Us fucking like rabbits and never drinking water?
I shrugged.
— Yeah, why not? I heard there’s way too much chlorine in the water here anyway, so maybe we're just being very responsible.
Mats gave me a long look, then chuckled and lay back against the dune. The moon drifted lazily above the calm ocean.
— Two rabbits and a bottle of wine… he mused. — I think we made Beatrix Potter very proud tonight.
To be continued...
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
That was amazing.
Now ...
... which one of them is going to be the first to say those three little words we all want to hear?
"You were right."
Now ...
... which one of them is going to be the first to say those three little words we all want to hear?
"You were right."
Well, we just have to see about that. I see several options.
And thanks!!
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
Maybe Sussie will say it to Anna. Again, that would make things a lot simpler for our heroes ...
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
Speaking of our heroes, the theme of their wedding is going to be porcelain, right?
Hahaha, that would be very fitting indeed
And those girls? Well, I'm juggling some options regarding their involvement. I think I've chosen the path forward, so...
PouletAuPoivre
Admired Member
