A STUD, A SHOWER AND A NOVEL
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
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Writer's block. Fucking writer's block! The bane of any professional writer. Even the change of scenery hadn't helped; it had just made it worse!
I'd come to the beach resort for two reasons. First was to get away from the heat of the city, which had gone beyond hot to downright sweltering and, combined with "rolling blackouts" taking out the air conditioner just when you needed it most, had become quite unbearable. Second was to have some peace and solitude from the noise and ruckus of other people. I needed to finish my novel; I had a publisher waiting with understandable impatience (he had paid me an advance on the royalty); and I was only about halfway through it and completely stalled. Maybe a clean break from my life in the city would help.
Boy, did I make a mistake! The beach wasn't all that much cooler, except at night. And night was when the crowd of college kids who were the resort's main clientele, chose the cool of night to party-hardy, hoo-rah, woo-hoo! What did I ever do to deserve this?
But this last week was the worst of all! The cabins were duplexes; I shared a back wall with another room. The other half of my duplex was currently being occupied by somewhere between six and twelve (I couldn't figure out who was living there and who just partied there a lot) young college boys. They would sleep late in the morning, get up at noon, head for the beach to work on their tans, play volleyball or surf, and then come back at sundown with cases of beer, huge bags of potato chips, greasy bags of hamburgers-to-go or such, and the party would begin, and last until about two or three in the morning.
So I wasn't getting a bit of writing done. Sheer exhaustion had forced me to sleep when they did (sleeping in the heat of the day was impossible, though a fitful doze was available if you wanted it), so I'd get up at noon, eat, drowse until sundown and then try to work while the noise of all the happy-hearty-chug-a-lug-party boys next door went on and on and on. They couldn't be here all summer, I told myself; most tenants came for a few days or a week. So I was waiting with ill grace and hoping it would all be over soon, and my tenant would be a sweet little old lady or something.
Three days later, I was sitting on the porch of my cabin, leaned back in a chair too hard to be really comfortable, sipping on some iced tea and wishing I didn't have to even be here. I should have chosen the mountains. Wonder if the publisher would give me another, small advance, just enough to get me out of here and up to a quiet, isolated cabin. I could show him what I had (less than two chapters since my first advance) and how much I needed to change my location and then...
"Hello?" came the male voice. I looked up and there was a black-haired Adonis of a young man. His hair was plastered to his cheeks from the sweat that turned his body into a glowing golden ember of masculinity. The sheen of muscles rippled across that body, from the wide shoulders down to the wasp-waist middle, the arms were cocked on his hips in a pose that wasn't at all unfriendly, as it showed the arc of his biceps on either side, displayed the proud nipples that pointed at me, begging me to lick them clean and dry and....
I shook my head. "Yes?"
"I need to take a shower."
I didn't get it. "Yes?"
"My friends are using the shower in our room next door, and there's a line for it. Mind if I use yours?" And that smile was hotter than any sun could hope to be, for the sun can only heat your shoulders and your skin; this smile burned through my clothes and melted my briefs from my body, causing my cock to burst into flame as it surged.
"Uh...okay." I nodded like an idiot and gestured toward my open door. He walked in past me and I saw the sweat had plastered his jams to his buttocks; they indented as he walked; the sharp crevice between invited the spelunker of my nose to dig between them, sniff out the treasure they held within....
I had gotten up and followed him inside, though it wasn't until I crossed the door threshold that I realized I had done that. He turned to look at me and I went over to my desk, where I had some papers laid out next to my typewriter, pretended I had come in to do something with them.
The room was rather spartan; the resort assumed you would come in to clean up and sleep and do little else indoors; their real attractions were outside. It held a bed, a dresser, a small closet, the desk which was little more than a table, and in one corner, a small box with a door held the toilet to permit decency. There was none such with the shower, it was out in the room next to the toilet, a curtain could be pulled to cordon it off, but if you chose, you could shower with the curtains open to the entire room. It made a certain sense; a hot shower would steam you up and make you sweat more, but the open air of the room would let you get clean and the air moving through the room would keep you cool and let you feel truly washed.
"You're a writer?" the man asked me as he stepped up to the shower. His hands went to his jams, he wasn't going to worry about me seeing his body.
"Yeah, I came here to try to finish my novel." I said. "Need to work on it now, in fact." And I hitched myself up to my typewriter, the angle put the shower (and the stud) to my left. I wasn't looking at him...but could by turning my head to the left.
So I saw his now-unclad buttocks as he stepped out of his jams and into the shower. God, he had tanned even those smooth orbs somehow, perhaps lying on a quiet dune away from the others. There wasn't a bit of a tan line as he turned around...he had seen me staring! I turned my eyes back to my typewriter, peered at the blank sheet inside it as if it held the wisdom of the ages.
"Hope my buddies and I aren't bothering you." the man said. "We came here to spend a few weeks enjoying the surf and get some sun. Are our parties keeping you awake nights?"
"Oh...no, no, I write mostly at night." I said. "I keep the same kind of hours you do, in fact." These guys were here for weeks to come? I had to get another room!
The man had the shower playing water over his body. His hands rubbed a bar of soap onto his palm, lathering it up, and then he began to rub his body with the soapy mass. God, this hunk of a man was touching himself, stroking that body for me! I wanted to get up, offer to soap him myself, help him clean that gorgeous body, just let me touch that body of yours, let me feel the young muscles as they flexed under my hands, let me stroke that smooth body of yours, feel the youth burning under my fingertips as I ran my hand across that stomach and down to that briar patch of dark hair that held within it the beast of young manhood that I could capture and tame as it roared within my fingers....
"Do you have a washrag I can use?" the man asked me. I shook my head again, I had turned in my chair until I was facing him, looking right at him head on, as he ran his hands over himself.
"Oh! Uh, yeah, yeah, there's some in the dresser."
"Could you get it for me? Don't want to drip across your floor." the man said.
"Oh, sure, sure!" God, let me work that washrag over you, let me feel you even through the barrier of terrycloth, let me be a part of your vital world of joy and delights, let me....
"Want me to do your back?" I heard myself offering.
That earned me a grin, that utterly mortified me. "That's okay, man, thanks." he said. "Nearly done here, I just want to scrub my face and such. Then I'll be out of your shower and leave you alone."
"You'll need a towel then." I turned away, my heart burning. I clutched the towel and held it, couldn't bring myself to turn around again. What was I doing here? I had my life back in the city, I hadn't come out here to go trolling for college boys! And why would one be interested in me, the wrong side of thirty (and far away from the border on that side), who spent all my life indoors, living my life at a typewriter keypad, my fingers telling of my desires and my brain surviving on the overflow of my fantasies? How could I hope to sample even for a few moments that bright life of his, that was all reality and all young men like himself, and the days of his future stretching out in a promise before him, unlimited possibilities, whereas my own life had narrowed down to a set of contracts and royalties, book-signings and feeble talk-show appearances where I tried to be charming and instead came off smarmy and snobbish...how could I hope to make any impression on him at all?
I turned at last, and he was done with his shower. His body still gleamed, but now it was from the clean water of new life, his vigor restored, his passions slaked. His cock was a sleek monster that dangled from his patch of pubic hair, drowsy and complacent. It didn't need me.
"Here's the towel." I dared approach him once more.
"Actually, the water's feeling good with the air coming through here." the man said. "Mind if I just stand here and air-dry for a moment?"
"That's okay." I said and stood by, just like a docile towel-boy at a spa, but I was neither young nor adorable, those epithets belonged to the young man who stood glistening before me, the beads of the water like diamond epaulets on either shoulder.
"Thanks for letting me use your shower." the man said. "All that sweat can bother you when you're done playing, you know."
"Yes, I know." I said, helplessly, a eunuch before the sultan.
"Meant to come over and say hello to you before, but with all your friends around you, you can forget to, easy."
"Yes, I know." I said again. His eyes had me in thrall, I couldn't break away from them, twin blue pearls of fiery power, they chained my spirit fast.
"You might as well put away that towel." the man said. "I won't be needing it. Just let it drop."
The towel fell from my lifeless hands into a limp impotent pile on the floor.
"Glad to finally see you." he said.
"Yes, me too."
"Good to feel clean again."
"Yes, it is."
"Would you like to?"
"Yes." I said absently. "Uh, would I like to what?"
He made a gesture downwards, I looked and his cock had risen from docile compliance to the angry guard-dog of virility, it glared at me with its one blind eye.
"Would you like to have a go at it? You've been looking my way enough. Pay you back for the shower if you like."
I looked back up and the eyes were still powerful, but benevolent, the king had condescended to grant a boon, the god had smiled upon my offerings. I could approach and worship as I pleased.
"You..." I swallowed hard. "You don't mind?"
"Mind? Sounds good." the man said. "My friends are all straight, or mostly, none of them want to get it on. And with the crowds at night, it can be hard to get off, you know? So go ahead. You know you want to." The arrogance was enormous, but I couldn't deny its foundation. He was entirely right.
Like a lamb before the altar, I led myself up and knelt onto the damp tiles. The faintest bit of water got onto my knees, no more than that. The heat was drying up the water fast.
I buried my nose in the damp pubic hairs as I took the long, turgid shaft into my mouth and let it slide over my tongue and into the depth of my soul. Only when I was less than an inch from the base, did I have to stop, and I held the long tool there for a moment before I clenched my lips and pulled back away again, clutching the skin to pull it with me as I withdrew and as I did, the man moaned.
"Ahhh, yeahhhh!" he gasped. "Yeah, I knew you were a cocksucker soon as I saw you yesterday afternoon, watching us coming back from our game. Knew you wanted to suck every last one of us. I could tell my buddies, bet they could use their knobs polished by you if you want me to. You want me to tell them to come over and get blown by you, too?"
Oh, God! Was this what I had become, a convenience for the use of a bunch of college boys? To have a line of young, virile, horny guys in the close neighborhood of twenty years old coming in my door, their strong bodies still shining from their sweat from their game of volleyball, their hands pulling at their swimsuits and their jams to offer me their young shafts of male tumescence for me to swallow one after another? "Mm-hmm." my mouth murmured around his shaft and I moved slowly up and down, relishing the hard shaft as it glided upon my tongue and my lips.
"I'll see who wants a knobber tomorrow morning, when they wake up." the man assured me. "I don't want to tell them in front of their girlfriends, the girls would freak at their guys getting a hummer from another guy. They don't understand a guy has his needs."
The man's hands grabbed my head and began to hump at me, hard and roughly, not in anger but in raw, teenaged rut. This was how youth made love, with the power of their young bodies thrusting at you, hard and fast and indifferent to your own needs, they just wanted to ram it into you hard and fast, get it moving, get it off, get it done, get it over with, who cared about the gentle strokes of passion when you were nineteen or twenty like this guy, he just wanted to get his rocks off, and I was the hole to let him do it.
Knowing that took some of his power over me away, and I regained control even as his hands forced my mouth to obey his every movement. Now I moved my tongue to enhance his sensations, his young mouth moaned as I tickled the underside of his shaft with every stroke in and out of me, and his hands relaxed, and I put my own hands upon that pair of rock-hard buttocks and I began to thrust myself upon his rod.
The young man lay back against the wall, next to the window, his head was lolling back and forth, I was in control now and I had his young virile body obeying my whims, now I could wring from his cock every ounce of passion I wanted, I could make his vital body writhe with my assault, he could no longer tell me how he would demean me to his friends, he could only moan for his joys had overridden every cell of his brain now, they could only swim in the tide of my hungry mouth and wait for the release that the waters of my mouth offered them, let the juices flow, let the cream build, let the fluids mingle in the channels, let the sperm be injected into the fluids, let it combine to make the immortal elixir of immortality once more, let the body clench as the moment neared, let it all...let it all BE!
"Oh, oh, OH, GOD, I'M COMING, I'M COMING! GAHH-HGHH-UHHH, GHH, UHHH, GAHHHH-HUHHH!" the man writhed like a broken snake upon the wall tiles, his lips were open and vulnerable, his eyes were clenched shut, their power fastened away from the invaders, he groaned, he blasted a huge flood of salty jizz into my mouth, and I drank the hot drink of his life, his youth, his callous vitality was mine now, and I suckled him as any vampire would a nubile maid in the darkness of her bedchamber, he was drained by my blood-red lips and his cock succumbed, withered, failed him utterly, and he was limp and pliant before me as I stood up and I grabbed his head and he looked at me, his eyes filmed over by his daze, and I forced him to kiss me, let him taste his salty jism on my lips and thrust my come-soaked tongue into his mouth, and he sucked on it like any obedient young slave should.
I stepped back and wiped my lips on the back of my hand. "Not bad." I told him. "Not bad at all. Yeah, you tell your buddies to come over tomorrow, if they want to. I can take them all on. Drain every last one of them bone dry."
"Yeah, yeah." he said, and he stumbled out of the shower, tugged his jams on and got out of there, looking back at me with a mixture of fear and...and what? Adoration? Had the worshiper become the god here?
There started from next door the boom-boom-boom of their music, and I knew that the young stud I had just serviced would be joining them, seeking renewal of his cocky strength through means of their company and their beer. Maybe he'd convince them all to leave the next day. Maybe he would come back tomorrow, his friends in tow, and try to regain his crown of superiority from my hands. I didn't care, I was a match for all the young studs the world had to offer!
I sat down to my typewriter and on the blank page, I typed, "Chapter One." I was going to have to rewrite my entire novel (I could save a few passages of descriptions here and there, but that was it) but I'd have the entire thing done by the end of August. My mistake with the novel had been thinking that the younger man would win against his older rival.
I knew better now.
THE END
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