Joy to the World

Copyright for this story belongs to and remains with the author. I don't have any major objection to my work being re-distributed, but ASK FIRST!!!

This is a gay adult story with the consequent language and images. If homosexuality and/or sexually explicit themes offend you then do not continue. If these are illegal in your area, then you have my sympathy, but you proceed at your own risk.

I would like to acknowledge the inspiration, ideas, and assistance I received for this story from Joy. It's really OUR story - I just had the privilege of putting it down in words. All comments will be passed on to him.

This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by the usual dictates of modern society. Unsafe sexual practices can be undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily.

I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may inspire new work, please feel free to contact me -- all emails will be answered to the best of my ability. Iainlthr@hotmail.com.

Joy To The World

Chapter one

He was young, almost too young, and far too attractive for his own good, or mine for that matter. I could not help myself but stare at him, and I felt that he knew what I was doing. He smiled, and his eyes flirted with me, and I told myself to get over it, but still I looked while the familiar tingle in my groin grew into an increasing discomfort.

It was early Spring, the gentle days of September heralding new growth everywhere, and that remarkable trick that mother nature plays, which sends thoughts of romance into every man's mind, was having its usual effect on me. I had wandered down to the beach innocently enough, intending to spend some time just breathing in the fresh sea breezes and feeling the grit of sand between my toes, to recharge my batteries after the long cold winter. But as I stood at the water's edge, the chill still too much to entice me into a swim, I found my eyes drawn to the lithe young body that emerged from the sea carrying his board and shaking the droplets from his face. I stared with open admiration for a moment, until I realised he had seen me watching, then tried to look away quickly. But he smiled at me, a knowing smile that seemed like he was aware he was being appreciated, and he liked it. As I looked back again, I could have sworn he slowed his pace, turning himself so that I was rewarded with the most complete view of him, drinking in every part of his perfect frame. He grinned again. Was that a lick of his lips? Surely not; he must simply have been tasting the salt of the ocean. Yet he was stunning, and I continued to gaze.

I noticed him as soon as I hit the beach. Just standing there, staring out into the water, and I'm sure he saw me - he looked straight at me, up and down like he was undressing me with his eyes. Still I felt funny, you know, kinda embarrassed and proud at the same time, that a sexy, mature guy like that would be checking me out. So I smiled back. He tried to look away, but his face came back to me again and he nodded, just a little, but enough to make me grin with joy.

Joy. That's what my friends call me, 'cause that's what I like to give and to get. Joy. The joy of sex, the joy of love, the joy of pleasing a man and being pleased in return. But it's not easy finding real joy, real satisfaction. God, listen to me, here I am not quite 21 yet and already I'm pissed off with the world. But most people just don't understand. I'm good looking - don't roll your eyes, there's no use denying it, I am! - got a good bod and a nice face, even done some modelling work, but no porn. So people tell me I've got it made, that I can have anything or anyone that I want. It just don't work that way. I've had plenty of partners and no complaints, but I'm always looking for something more. Most guys my age are more than happy to get it on and get themselves off. Slam, bam, thank you, man! Hot instant sex and you're on your way, lots of sweat and energy but no finesse, no taking the time to get to know you.

But that's not me, and maybe that's why I find myself attracted to older men. Not really old, but guys in their late 30's and 40's. Guys who still look after themselves, and look damn good too, a lot of them, but who might take the time to find out my name, something about me, before they fuck me; guys who might stay a little bit longer than the time it takes for their dick to go soft. And that's my problem. Most guys like that don't seem to want me. They think I'm too young, too immature. One guy told me once I was 'too pretty'!

So what about this guy on the beach, looking at me? Yeah, I can see he's still watching. He looks great. Strong legs, wide shoulders, looks like a nice developed chest too under that T. Is that a bulge in his shorts? Nah, couldn't be, just my imagination. No way he'd be interested in a kid like me. I'll bet he could show me a thing or two, teach me what to look out for. He'd know how to deal with the world, how to get over the hassles with parents and other guys. I wish I were older, had his experience.

I kept on walking, wondering what it would be like to get to know him. But it would have to stay just a wish. So I headed up to the changing rooms to check in my rented board and shower off, face the day alone again.

He continued his way across the sand, heading for the promenade, and now freed from his entrancing eyes, I was able to take a more detailed and informed inventory of his features, at least from behind. Even without the benefit of having seen him emerge from the surf I would have guessed him a swimmer, with strong wide shoulders and well-developed thighs. His hair was wet and clung to his head, a mousey-blond colour that I had seen him shake away from piercing blue eyes. He stood at least six foot tall and I happily ogled the curve of his butt encased in the tight black neoprene of a wetsuit as he walked away from me. Personally, I would have preferred him to be encased in black of another material, tanned gleaming leather, but the rubber wetsuit was a happy alternative. In his early twenties I estimated, and I sighed with a mixture of longing and regret.

Approaching 40 far too quickly, I had to be almost twice his age, and while I was happy to look, a combination of natural shyness and self-respect meant there was no way I would chase after him. Youth is so wasted on the young! I thought, trying to tell myself I wasn't really bitter. Besides, I was hardly `over the hill'! I still worked out regularly, and spent an hour a day cycling around the bike tracks near my home. I fought the battle waged between my taste for good food and wine with the damage such can do to my abs, and I worked out to keep my chest, my gut and my arse tight. I was actually quite proud of my pecs, and more than one previous partner had complimented me in that department. In fact, a few years ago I had had both of my nipples pierced, something I had wanted to do for some time. They looked great, and felt even better, especially when someone was playing with them, and the golden rings made my nips stand up and out all the time, even when I wasn't excited.

Of course, that definitely was not the case right now. I was doing my best to hide the bulge in my shorts which had sprung up unbidden at his appearance in front of me, but my tits were hard as steel, and I could feel the cotton of my T-shirt stretched across them and the metal rings. I stood and watched as he disappeared into the changing rooms behind the beach, and gradually my excitement waned and my breathing returned to normal. Telling myself that I was being childish, I tried to banish from my mind the sight of his stunning body and his impish grin, and made my way slowly back to the pavillion, promising myself a gelato and a latte.

I had settled down enough to be enjoying the coffee and ice cream at a small table looking across the beach when he re-appeared. From the corner of my eye I saw motion, and when I turned he was there again, now dressed in a tight white T and faded 501's, his hair brushed back. If it were possible, he looked even better than he had in the dark latex suit. Just as I looked up he spotted me, and once again that smile graced his lips. It was the kind of smile that started at the eyes and spread in concentric rings across his entire face; the kind of smile that could melt or break a heart. Once again I was mesmerised by it, and him, and once again, I felt sure he was flirting with me. Trying to hide behind my coffee cup, I raised the steaming liquid to my lips just as he nodded in my direction, and I gulped and spluttered, the heat of the brew burning my mouth as the rush of blood burned my face. His smile turned into a laugh, a joyful chuckle as I attempted to clean myself up.

There he was again! I stepped out of the changing rooms and started to head for my bike when I looked to the cafe outside the pavillion where the tourists like to sit at Bondi on weekends, and he was at one of the little tables near the sand. His eyes met mine and again I got that penetrating feeling, like he was analyzing me. I grinned a stupid look at him, feeling really immature as he started to take a sip of his coffee, and nodded at him.

I'm not sure what happened next, but suddenly he had spilt the coffee over himself, just a little, and he was looking down at himself now, dabbing at his shirt with a napkin. I don't know why, but I started to laugh for a second, and then got concerned. On an impulse, I just went straight over to where he sat.

"Are you okay?" I asked, looking at the stain spreading across his T-shirt. "Did you burn yourself?"

He looked up at me quickly, like he was surprised I was even there. I couldn't read the expression on his face, but he didn't seem too happy about it.

"Yeah, thanks, I'm fine," he said. "Just a little spill, and the coffee's almost cool now anyway. Just made a mess."

I looked at the now wet shirt, the brownish coffee leaking across it, as it clung to his chest. What a great chest he had! Tight pecs, defined and chiselled. He must work out. And then I noticed where the material clung to his right nipple -- a piercing! I could clearly see the metal ring in his tit as the cotton stuck to him. Shit that looked good! He coughed a little and I looked back to his face, and straight into his eyes. They were huge pools of green, dark and round, and I felt as though I could fall right into them. Time stood still for a millisecond, and then to my horror I could feel my dick starting to get hard.

Oh fuck! Here I was, standing inches away from this hot, confident guy and I start to crack a bone. I went bright red, I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and I backed off, breaking the spell.

Sure you're alright?" I stuttered.

"Of course," he answered in a funny, low kind of voice, looking at me like I was weirding him out.

"Okay then," I managed to get out before I turned and all but ran to my bike, needing to get away from him fast, before I made myself look like even more of a fool.

His appearance at my elbow as I tried to clean myself up had startled me. Not content to embarrass myself from a distance, now I was doing it up close, lost for words as this young Adonis leaned over me asking if I had burnt myself. I muttered some inane reassurances as I tried vainly to soak up the spilled drink from my chest. He was so close, leaning over me, and I could literally smell the washed hair and soapy skin from his shower as I kept on patting the tissue paper at myself.

It was when I looked up into his face that my breathing stopped. Inches away, his eyes were the colour of the sky at midday in summer. So blue it was almost painful. And there was something else there, a longing, a need, that I couldn't identify. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could feel my cock swelling in my shorts, thankfully hidden beneath the table. Suddenly he lifted away again and once more I felt a fool for feeling the way I did about this young man. I stared into his face, mentally begging for his forgiveness, but with a hissed word he stood up and walked away quickly.

I cursed my own stupidity, cursed his youth and his looks, cursed Mother Nature and the world in general. But that didn't stop me from watching as he made his escape; didn't prevent me from staring as he reached a motorcycle parked just along the promenade and pulled a helmet over his head; didn't lessen the arousal I felt as he spread his long denim clad legs around the machine and roared off, never to be seen again. So I was just an old perv, I could dream couldn't I? ...

The next morning I headed down to the beach again. I told myself I was just enjoying the burst of early spring weather, but in reality I knew that I was hoping to catch another glimpse of the young blond god from yesterday. He had featured in my thoughts for most of the previous day, preventing me from concentrating on work, and had been the subject of an intense climax as I masturbated last night before falling into a troubled sleep. My mind told me I was being foolish, and that he would probably not even be there, but I secretly prayed I would again be rewarded with the vision of him emerging from the water.

And there he was! No matter what I did, I could not keep the smile from my face as I stood near the water's edge and watched his graceful shape emerge from the sea. As he reached the beach, the water dripping from his hair and face and forming rivulets across the strong frame once again enveloped in black, I stared hungrily. Every inch of him was plainly visible through the skin-tight neoprene, and it was stunning!

He spotted me then, and grinned, but it wasn't a deprecating smile at all. He seemed to be acknowledging my interest in him and accepting it. I imagined that he would have people looking at him, appreciating his beauty, often, and told myself that one more old fool on the beach wasn't going to bother him too much. As he made his way to the changing rooms, I slowly wandered across the sand and once again took up my vantage at the outdoor cafe, making sure this time that my table was at the edge, and allowed me full view of the promenade where he would walk past me to get to his bike.

Within 10 minutes he re-emerged, cleaned and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, and this time I devoured him with my eyes as he sauntered toward me. I could have sworn he was actually looking for me as he came out of the pavillion, and when he found me in the same place as before yet another of those killer smiles split his face. I raised my cup, not to spill it this morning, but in silent acknowledgement to him, and he nodded as he passed me. Today, his pace was much less hurried as he strode to his mechanical steed, mounted it and kicked it into life. And as he began to ride away, I am sure he looked back to make sure I was watching still....

Over the next week and a half, I fell into a very agreeable routine. Each morning I would be at the beach, casually wandering along the water's edge, supposedly enjoying the sand and the sea but carefully scanning the waves for my young hero. And each morning he would be there, appearing from the deep, a Greek god come to life. It didn't seem to matter whereabouts on the length of the shore I stood, it was at that exact spot that he would arrive and step onto the sand. We traded smiles, and he walked away to change and wash while I took up my now regular haunt at the table on the promenade. Our grinning glances were again exchanged as he made the trip from the change-rooms to his bike, and I was sure his journey became slower, his strutting more pronounced with each passing day. Was I becoming some kind of stalker? I fervently hoped not, and I did not feel like it. If he didn't like my silent attentions, he could easily change his routine, or walk in the opposite direction, I assured myself.

And then came the morning when he wasn't there. I waited at the edge of the sea, looking out to the group of heads surfing in the distance, well past the 'usual' time for him to show up. I forced myself to sit patiently at the cafe and drink a coffee, and then another, but he just wasn't there. I felt empty, lost, told myself he had grown sick of our little game. Then I worried that something had happened to him - but what could I do? I knew absolutely nothing about him, except that he was gorgeous, and that he had been at the beach each morning for the last ten or eleven days. I dragged myself to work, but failed to do anything useful as my mind constantly went to the young blond whom I had begun to think of as a friend, despite having said no more than a few words to him that first morning.

When he showed up at the beach again the day after I had embarrassed myself by getting an erection while staring into his eyes, I couldn't believe it. And there he was at the same table when I finished showering. He lifted his cup to me and smiled, and I could have melted on the spot. I didn't stop - I couldn't - I had no idea what I could say to him, but I walked on air all the way to my bike, my heart pounding in my chest. I turned around for one more look, and he was still watching me! I told myself he was just being friendly, yet a part of me wanted so much to think that someone like him, older and wiser, might be interested in me. But why on earth would he be attracted to me? I was just a kid to him, young and immature, and full of doubts and insecurities.

He was there again the next day, and the next. It got so I would keep one eye on the waves, and one on the beach, waiting for him to show up each morning. And when I spotted him, walking along the beach, I'd head into shore, making sure I hit the sand just by where he was. I worried that he might get suspicious that I came in at a different spot every day, just to be near him, but he smiled pleasantly at me each time, and each time I had that wonderful feeling that he was examining me as I walked past him up to the showers.

I changed and washed and dressed faster every day, to get back outside and see him, sitting casually at the cafe, having his coffee, at peace with the world. I wished so much I could be like that, have his confidence and knowledge. I got to feel more comfortable as I walked by, taking my time and wishing I could summon the courage to speak to him, but I never did. I was terrified that I'd never get any words out without stuttering, or worse: getting excited down there! Besides, what could I say that he would find interesting? So I just kept on walking, then riding away, but his smile each day made me feel so good, and kept me going until the next one.

For eleven days - yep, that's right, I was counting - we did the same thing. I wished, prayed, for a way to break the ice, to say something, anything, to him, but my nerve deserted me. And then on the 12th day, disaster! When I came downstairs to head for the beach that morning my bike was gone. Stolen in the night! Shit! It's kinda weird, but I was more concerned about missing the man at the beach that morning than I was about the fact that I was without transport. I spent the day filling in forms and notifying the cops and my insurance company, but all day long I kept wondering if he had been there, if he had noticed that I wasn't, if he would still be back tomorrow.

The next day I was up earlier than ever. I was going to the beach, and that meant public transport - a train trip and a connecting bus ride down to Bondi, but I didn't care, for some reason I just had to be there. I told myself he wouldn't care if I showed up or not, but I needed to see his face again, to feel the tingle when he smiled at me. It was the high point of my day.

As soon as I saw him on the sand, I turned my board inward and paddled back to the beach, making sure I was coming out of the water right in front of him. My heart was beating fast, and I couldn't get this silly grin off my face, as I moved closer to him. As I stood up out of the water, I saw him notice me, and suddenly he smiled, a funny kind of look, almost like he was relieved about something. I took a long look at him again, and without thinking I actually stopped there, on the edge of the beach, while I let myself notice his strong chest, his wavy dark hair, his eyes ...

"Hello?"

Shit! He spoke to me.

"Unhh, hi ..." I sputtered.

"I missed y..., I mean, did you have a day off yesterday?" he asked, tripping over his words a bit.

"Yeah," I answered, desperately trying not to sound stupid. "My bike got stolen, so I had no way of getting here."

"Oh, that's bad luck! Still, you're here today..."

"Umm, yep, ...train..." I offered, my mouth drying up.

"Oh, right," he nodded, then looked down at the sand. "Well, I won't keep you from your shower," he said when I didn't add anything to my side of the conversation.

"Uh huh," I nodded, feeling dejected. I had had my chance, and blown it! I wandered up the beach. As I stripped away my wetsuit and stood under the cascading warm water, I replayed his words in my head. 'I missed y...' he had said. 'Missed y...?; missed you?' No way! Why would he have missed me? Maybe he meant 'missed' as in just didn't see me. Yes, that had to be it. Still, I hurried through my shower even faster this morning, eager to get outside and see if he was sitting at his usual spot.

I had to try again, had to know whether he really thought I was just a foolish kid ...

When I saw my young hunk coming out of the water, I was so relieved I just had to say something to him. But when I almost blurted out that I had missed him, I could have choked on my own words. I only vaguely heard him tell me his bike had been stolen, I was concentrating so much on my own embarrassment, and then he didn't seem to want to prolong the conversation, muttering something about a train. All I wanted to do right then was sink through a hole in the earth. When he walked away from me, I recovered enough to look after him, to see him heading into the showers, and I made for the coffee shop again, wondering how much he must be laughing to himself at my stupidity.

What had he said? Train? He must have come to the beach by public transport. Well, of course he would, if he didn't have his bike now. Poor kid, I hope it was insured. Sydney's public transport system is okay, but slow and round-about if you're young and in a hurry, which most people his age would be. I felt for him then, remembering how annoying it had been when my car had disappeared and I had needed to rely on the trains for a couple of weeks.

I was still musing on the injustice of life, and the irritation caused by unthinking thieves, when a shadow was beside me, a presence by my side. I looked up in complete surprise, taken aback to find him standing there, looking down at me.

"Umm, hello again?" he said, half a question. I hesitated, off-guard for the moment.

"Hi there. That was quick - your shower I mean." How inane could I get? This guy must think I'm a real loser! But still he stood, looking very much as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't quite get it out. Feeling a little lost, I beckoned at the seat across the table from me. "Would you like a coffee?"

His smile lit up his face again. "Thanks, I'd love one," he said, surprisingly enthusiastic. He sat quickly and I motioned to the waitress for another cup before turning back to find his deep blue eyes wide and staring at my own. They were pools of azure, and I could have dived into them. I felt the stirring in my groin, and thanked heaven for the table between us.

"So you've lost your motorcycle?" I asked, desperate to break the silence, to make some kind of small talk with him.

"Uh huh, stolen from outside my flat, the night before last."

"That must be pissing you off - having to use public transport and all!"

He laughed at that, his face lighting up. "Yeah, it's a real pain in the arse!" he declared, and I joined in laughing with him. Somehow, we had reached a watershed, and began to feel at ease with each other, instead of the nervousness I had been experiencing up until now.

"I'm Iain," I said, holding out my hand to him across the table.

"Joy," he replied. I raised my eyebrow at that, and he began to redden just a little. It was so disarming I just smiled. "It's a nickname," he went on, "but everyone calls me that."

"Nice to meet you, Joy!"

Just then his coffee arrived, and we sat in silence for a few minutes, each sipping at our drinks. But it wasn't a difficult silence like before, at least not for me. I stole a few glances at him from up close, and he was even better looking than I had realised. He had a handsome, masculine face which bore a few tiny scars, but the imperfections only served to make him more attractive rather than less. His jawline was square, his lips full and red and just made for kissing, but it was still his eyes which held me captive. They were so bright and alive, so blue and so deep, and I couldn't help but stare.

"So, do you live here, near the beach?" he asked at last.

"No, Balmain. I come over in the mornings to get the salt air, refresh myself. What about you? You said you had to come by train?"

"Mmm, train and bus. I rent a place in Darlinghurst. Got a train from Kings Cross up to Bondi Junction, and a connecting bus down to the beach."

"Take long?"

"Not too bad first thing in the morning, although I guess it'll be a slower trip back with the traffic starting to build up now," he mused.

"Sure will," I agreed. "Especially since you'll be heading toward the city rather than away. It starts to get really slow in about half an hour and doesn't let up until peak hour is over."

His face told me he hadn't considered the problems of rush hour commuters. I watched him quietly as we finished our coffees, wondering whether he would think I was trying to pick him up, or if he would accept me as just a friendly fellow beach-goer when I, casually as possible, asked:

"Would you like a lift home? I have to go through Darlinghurst to get back myself, so it's no problem, and it'll save you a lot of hassle."

I wanted him to say yes. I wanted him to say no. I didn't know what I wanted. My heart pounded, and I'm sure my cheeks flushed but I tried to seem unconcerned, like it was something I did every day, chauffeuring a blond god around the city.

"I, uhh ..." he stuttered. I had offended him! I had scared him!

"Hey, it's no big deal. If you want to get the bus, I mean."

"NO!" he said with some force. "I mean, yes! I'd love a lift. As long as it's not putting you out. I'd be really grateful."

The grin which split my face must surely have been a giveaway to him. I was so pleased, I couldn't stop smiling. Just don't let him think I'm some kind of dirty old man, I begged the fates.

"It's a deal. We'd better get moving soon, or we'll get caught up. Okay?"

He nodded, and I went to pay for the drinks. He began fishing around in his pocket, pulled out his wallet.

"No, no," I said. "My shout this morning. You can get them next time." That made him smile again, and I wondered for the hundredth time at the beauty of his face when he did so.

The trip into town may have been fast, it may have been slow. I don't remember it at all, except that it was over in an instant. The only thing I was aware of was him sitting beside me, his long legs wrapped in blue denim spread comfortably in the passenger seat. He directed me around the maze of laneways that pass for streets in Darlinghurst to a mid-sized building not far from Oxford Street. On the way, we talked easily enough, and I learnt that he was single and lived alone in a rented apartment, that he had grown up on the south coast in a little town called Shoalhaven Heads. I may have told him some things about myself, I don't recall much of what I said. His voice seemed to entrance me.

As he opened the door to get out of my car, I called to him: "Joy, pick you up here at 6.30 tomorrow, okay?"

He sat back in again. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Oh," I said in a dejected tone, thinking I had pushed him too far.

"I mean, it's too early for you, and out of your way."

"It's not out of my way at all! And an extra 45 minutes at the beach will do me the world of good," I said firmly.

"Well, if you're sure..." he sounded unconvinced.

"I am! See you tomorrow morning!"

As I drove away, I could see him in my rear view mirror, standing and watching me. Well, even if he does think I'm an old fool, at least I get to spend more time with him, I told myself, wearing a grin that would last all day.

Iain! That was his name. And not only did I get to speak with him, but he drove me home that morning, and offered to pick me up again the following day! I was so happy I could burst. He treated me like a friend, an equal. He talked to me like a person instead of a kid. We chatted while we were still at the beach, and all the way into the city in his car. Of course, while he was driving I had plenty of chances to get a good long look at him too. And I did. The thick, developed chest, the muscular arms, the long legs covered in a soft fur of hair. And the very inviting bulge between his legs. He had been wearing shorts, the same as usual, and when he drove I could see how they bunched up around his groin, could tell he was not under-endowed in that department. I wondered if I would ever get a chance to see his equipment first hand, or if he still thought of me as the boy from the beach who needed a ride because his bike was stolen. Still, I'd be seeing him again tomorrow, and hopefully for a while if I played my cards right. After all, I wasn't going to have a bike for a while yet....

The next morning I was waiting out the front of my building when Iain drove up. I made sure I was out there early, I didn't want to take any chance on missing him, or making him wait. He smiled as I opened the passenger door, and I felt special, important, as I climbed in beside him. We talked easily as we drove down to the beach and I managed to find out that he was 38, and single, and owned his own home. I tried my best not to seem too immature, but at the same time, I felt I could be myself with him - he didn't seem to be judging me, or putting me down the way so many other older guys had done.

When we arrived, I headed into the changing rooms, and kinda hoped he'd follow me. Now there was a thought! Maybe he would creep up behind me, or race me off under the shower, and we'd have a hot session of sex? But no, he stayed outside - the perfect gentleman. We walked down to the water's edge together, and I paddled out while he began his stroll along the beach.

I stayed in the water surfing for about half an hour, but kept looking back to the beach to see where he was, hopefully not getting bored by his extended visit. Finally, I couldn't keep my concentration on the waves, so I headed back to shore, and waded out of the water right in front of him. Another of his great smiles was waiting for me.

"How was it?" he asked.

"Okay," I answered. "You're not bored yet?"

"Not at all. I enjoy walking and breathing in the sea air. It gives me a chance to think and clear my head at the same time!"

"If you say so!" I grinned at him then. "I'd better take a shower ..."

"Yep, and I'll grab us a table and order the coffees. It's your turn to pay, remember?"

We laughed together, and somehow I felt 'connected' with him, like we were sharing something, just the two of us.

I showered and changed in record time, and we sat together drinking coffee, and enjoying the spring morning. It felt so 'right', and I didn't want to go, but Iain eventually stood up, reminding me that we had to get moving to avoid the peak hour jam getting into the city again....

Now we had a new 'routine' - a shared routine, where he collected me every morning and we journeyed to the sea. He walked, I surfed, and we re-joined each other for a relaxing seat at the cafe before facing the real world. Those mornings passed in a hazy dream for me, and I looked forward to them more and more each day. I felt like I was really getting to know him.

And every night I went to bed and dreamed of what it would be like to have him hold me, kiss me and make love to me....

It was three days later that my life changed completely. Iain and I had driven to the beach as usual, and he was taking his walk as I headed for the waves. The swell was really up today, much better than it had been for some time, and a lot of guys were out at the break, trying to catch the bigger, better waves. The first few rides I had were fantastic, and I started getting braver, taking off on more and more powerful swells and feeling so free and so happy with myself, my world was looking good.

A set of three monster swells rolled in, and I took off on the first, cutting across the face and dropping down into it before shooting back up almost to the lip, weaving around. It was a great ride and as I felt the power wane and knew I was almost done, I looked to the beach where I was sure I could see Iain watching my performance. I waved at his figure, wondering whether he saw me, and dropped down to lie on my board. The second wave of the set was right behind and I turned to see it foaming just behind me - and another board cannoning out of the spray and headed straight at me! Fuck! I ducked my head and tried to turn away but the side of the surfboard glanced off my head. A stabbing pain rocked my left temple and I rolled over, into the water and began to sink.

It's funny, but almost at once the pain wasn't there. I was in the water, falling deeper and deeper, yet I was calm, unconcerned. I couldn't see much with the salt in my eyes and bubbles everywhere but I sensed I was going down and down and down. The water was murky now, not from the bubbles but stirred up by the strength of the waves and I was spinning around and twisting my head from side to side, trying to see. I vaguely wondered why I was still sinking, since my leg-rope should have pulled taut by now and I wouldn't drag the board down as well, it was too buoyant. Something in my brain told me I needed to breathe, yet I put that thought aside. Strangely, the water down here didn't seem as cold as it should....

... Then the water cleared. I was floating now, suspended, not moving. And my eyes were completely clear. I could see all around me, a deep blue/green light filtered in from above as I started to swim upwards, but nothing happened, I didn't move. A shape began to form in the distance and I stopped struggling and stared at it as the shadowy figure moved toward me. It was travelling at high speed, gracefully swimming through the water and I watched in fascination. A moment of panic struck me and I began to thrash around, trying to get away, but I was so slow and this thing was agile and strong. I tried to call out, to yell for help and now the need to breathe came back to me as I felt my lungs aching from lack of air. A touch on my leg and I was seized with terror as my body was enveloped by ... arms? What was this? I was held and spun around to face my attacker, only to find myself looking into Iain's face, to have Iain's eyes, deep and green and round, peering into mine with a look of concern.

"Joy," he said clearly. "You shouldn't be here! It's dangerous for you."

I tried to answer, but I couldn't speak, my mouth and lungs were filling with water. How can you talk underwater anyway? This is madness!

Iain leaned forward, his face coming to mine. "It's okay," he said again. How did he do that? "I'll breathe for you. Just relax!"

With that he kissed me, his mouth covering my own, and he blew air into my throat. Sweet, warm air, letting me draw it into my lungs, keeping me alive. Another breath forced its way from him into me and I swallowed hard, wrapping my arms around him. What was that? What was he wearing? I couldn't see his back, but my hands felt not skin, but something cold and slippery, thousands of tiny ridges which moved as he did.

And then we were moving. Moving fast, gliding through the water as if we were being pulled along by some invisible speed boat. His lips still covered my mouth, his breath still filling my lungs and keeping me alive as I felt the rush of water across my body. This sensation of racing through the ocean kept up for a few seconds, and then I felt us slowing, and rising toward the surface. With a splash and a jolt we were up again and I felt the warm sun beating down on my bare skin. As he released my mouth, I took huge gasps, lungfuls of air and looked around in amazement.

I had never seen this place before! We couldn't be anymore than a few minutes from Bondi, yet this was a tiny secluded cove, a white sand beach nestled between sheer cliffs of jagged rock, the whole thing bathed in hot sun. Hot sun? But it was only early spring, I shouldn't be feeling this kind of heat on my skin. I looked at my arms and chest. Bare. Bare? Where was my wetsuit? I was completely naked! As I stepped onto the dry sand, I turned to face Iain, full of questions - and as soon as I lay eyes upon him everything I wanted to ask was forgotten in an instant.

My mouth opened, but no sound would issue. Standing there before me was Iain, but it wasn't the Iain I knew. Iain's face, Iain's head, sat atop a pair of shoulders that were rounded rather than square. From his sides, just behind his arms, were two appendages that stuck out and wavered as he moved, looking so much like ... fins! Yet his chest was huge, his nipples peaked and hard, each one pierced with a tiny golden ring, just as I had seen that first day, and imagined over and over again since. He smiled at me, and it was Iain's smile, Iain's eyes.

"Are you okay?" asked Iain's voice, but I still couldn't answer. I think I nodded. He swung around and splashed some water over his body, and I gasped out loud when I saw him from behind. A dorsal fin stood out from the base of his neck, almost a foot high, and slowly tapered to nothing as it continued in a long sweep down his back to end at the small of his back, but from that point a muscular, powerful tail lifted up, as long as his legs, maybe longer, ending in two horizontal flutes, much like you'd see on a dolphin or a whale. His back, his sides and his legs were covered in a million tiny glistening scales and when he faced me again, I could see slits in either side of his neck, opening and closing as he breathed. Gills!

Finally I found my voice. "What the fuck ...? Who are you? WHAT are you?"

I stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. I didn't have any fear - he had just saved my life, but I had no idea how to react to him. My eyes were drawn again to his magnificent chest, and fell slowly down his body. He too was naked, and the rippling muscles of his abdomen highlighted a perfect six-pack above a hairless groin. When I looked to his pubic region my eyes widened again. His cock snaked down one leg - 'streamlined' - that was the word I was looking for. Long, at least a foot, and thick and smooth, the foreskin closed over his head.

He stepped toward me. "Joy, it's me, Iain!" he said. His voice sounded almost distant, but he smiled again and held his hands out.

I continued to stare, mesmerised by him. Despite his incredible appearance, he was stunningly attractive, and I felt my own cock begin to lengthen with arousal. I was conscious of my own nudity, yet it seemed immaterial here and now, on this deserted beach, with this 'being' smiling at me.

His eyes travelled over my body, just as I had done to him, and now there was movement between his legs. His penis detached itself from his thigh and slowly began to grow as it swung now over large heavy testicles. Another smile crossed his face, but this was different, this was filled with desire. And it triggered a response in me. Suddenly my cock sprang up into full erection, hard as steel and aching with anticipation. Matching me, he too began to get hard, but amazingly, as his cock got longer it seemed to thin, and soon there was a foot and a half of sinewy prong jutting from him, still not fully erect. I grinned with lusty desire.

He moved again, closer to me, his arms reaching down and lifting me to him, picking me up like a baby and cradling me. I was amazed by his strength, and surprised by the warmth I could feel. I had expected him to feel cold and wet, but although his body shimmered with the silver of scales, there was a heat emanating from him, and I melted against him. He easily carried me across the strip of sand, heading for the back of the beach, where I noticed a cave in the rock which I had not seen before. Into the cave we went. It was dim and cooler, but not dark; dry and comfortable and at one side was a raised platform of rock covered with some kind of thick rubbery material. It looked for all the world like a huge bed!

He lay me down on the yielding surface, sliding me across as he sat beside me, his eyes boring into mine. Once again, I had the feeling that he was undressing me with his mind, yet I was already naked, my body quivering with excitement. His hand came down on my stomach, feather soft touches as his fingers played across my skin, running up and over my chest, tweaking gently at my nipples. I looked down to see that a thin, almost transparent web of skin joined each finger from the second knuckle back to his palms. Somehow even that was erotic. He lifted his legs onto the bed alongside me, the fins at his sides folding themselves away to almost nothing, his long tail drooping down behind him, and leaned into me.

Our mouths met again, and this time I responded not by gulping air from him, but by opening my mouth to the exploration by his tongue. His lips were soft and warm, his tongue probing and urgent as I followed his lead and licked at his teeth and gums, our arousal growing quickly as the joining of our mouths ignited a sensual passion. For long minutes we remained locked together, and I realised that he was breathing for both of us again, blowing life-giving air into my lungs as our tongues jousted and tasted each other.

My hands were free to grope at him, and I did. My fingers found first his chest, tracing the lines of hard muscle that defined his pecs before landing on his nipples. I touched first at one and then the other of the rings through his tits, pulling at them gently but firmly, tweaking the hard brown nubs of skin they pierced and rubbing the tiny erections between my thumb and forefinger. Without breaking our kiss, he groaned and I felt his reaction as a vibration right through my throat and down into my very body. I rolled onto my side, pressing against him, the velvet covered steel of my cock riding hard at his hip, leaving a slippery trail of pre-cum in its wake. As I continued to play with his nips, my arm slid across his chest, and came up against something long and solid. I opened my eyes, and in shock I looked down, finally breaking our kiss in my surprise.

My wrist had encountered his penis, but what an appendage it had become! It had grown to almost two feet long, now thin and tapered like some kind of fleshy sword. In amazement, I touched it, and he simply lay back and moaned, a smile on his face. His weapon was hot to touch, firm and hard under my fingers, and even at this length his foreskin still covered the head. I traced the line of a single throbbing vein from tip to root with my fingernail, and his prong writhed beneath me! It moved as though it had a life of its own, flexing this way and that in serpentine motion. Yet for all its graceful, reptilian movement, when I wrapped my hand around it, it was hard as steel. Drawn to his equipment with an irresistible desire, I moved my head lower and licked out at him, starting at his balls and following the full length of his shaft with my greedy tongue, slowly massaging him with wet kisses. He moaned again, louder, and his cock swished from side to side like a cat's tail. There was no way I could take this thing into my mouth - it would reach all the way into my stomach, but I could certainly suckle at his cockhead, and that was exactly what I intended to do. My mouth moved back up along his length, finding the slender tip of him almost at his chest, and I closed my lips around the last inch and a half. He sighed, one hand falling to rest on my shoulders, the other moving to play with his own nipple as he enjoyed my attentions.

Carefully, I mouthed my way over his cockhead, my gums pulling at the foreskin as my tongue wormed its way into the gap at his tip, probing further and further beneath the hood of flesh to find the sensitive nerve-filled glans. The snake-like shaft of his prick shuddered, writhing as it did, but the head stayed motionless as my mouth worked its magic on him. I brought my teeth together softly on a section of his foreskin and nibbled at the tender flesh before I once again ran my tongue in a circular motion around the sheathed head of his prick, exploring the cavity between his hardness and the thin layer of skin which covered it.

I heard him release a deep throated grunt of pleasure, and felt his hand caressing my back, sliding slowly and sensuously across my shoulders and along my spine. There was a slickness at his slit, and I tasted it excitedly. A thick, viscous liquid, sweet and with the texture of warmed honey, leaked from him and I lapped it up and went back for more. His entire body was now trembling, that part of his enormously long cock which I did not have trapped in my mouth flexing and shuddering as his hand moved further down my back, groping and squeezing at the cheeks of my arse, his fingers occasionally dipping into my crack and running along that crevice.

With renewed energy, I suctioned harder at his cock, and was rewarded with the incredible sensation of his foreskin peeling back from the throbbing steel hardness of his head, and his tapered glans pushed deeper into my throat. As his prong penetrated my gullet, I felt his fingers pressing at my sphincter, gently pulling my muscles open as he entered me from both ends at once. Further into my mouth his cock inched, and I began to panic, thinking I would gag, would choke on him if he pushed too deeply. But I heard a far away whisper from him.

"Come on, Joy, just relax ..." said Iain's voice, and I did as he asked. His versatile prick slowly wormed its way into my throat, touching at my tonsils and sliding past them as his fingers opened me from behind, coaxing my reluctant pucker open. I felt as though his cock was winding its way into my stomach, yet somehow I could take it as I enjoyed the slithering muscle filling my throat. Then, slowly, it was coming back up and out again. There was no pain, no urge to gag, only a blissful massaging of my mouth as he withdrew.

Removing his cock from my face, he rolled me over, and rolled himself onto me, his mouth covering mine again as we resumed our kiss. His powerful legs nudged my knees apart and he lay between them, his upper body supported by his arms, his ringed nipples pressing into my chest. My fingers went to his head, sliding down his neck until I could feel the slits of his gills opening and closing as he used them to breathe for both of us. His hands were beneath my shoulders, and the most amazing sensation began as I felt his cock weaving around, running across my legs, wrapping around my own erection like a third hand.

He released my mouth again, and sat up now, between my legs. His hands played with my nuts, making me moan with pleasure, then slid up along my cock and across my gut to find and pinch at my nipples, eliciting even more sounds of pleasure from me. I wrapped my legs around his torso as his penis lifted itself up to full extension, standing as a beacon of masculinity between us. I watched in fascination as, untouched by either of us, his foreskin peeled away to reveal a reddened mushroom cap. The eye of his cock opened and the same clear, sticky fluid which I had earlier tasted flowed from him, spreading itself slowly over his cockhead and down along his shaft. Our eyes met, and the deep pools of green in his face stared into me, into my soul in a silent question, full of need and desire. I knew what he wanted, what he was asking, but looked doubtfully at the twenty-four inches or more of admittedly desirable, but totally unfeasible, erection that he sported.

"I can't, I can't..." I groaned in frustration.

Iain's voice floated over me, almost a whisper. "Yes you can, Joy, you can do it. Please, for me?"

I lay back again, closing my eyes. "Maybe just a little, but not the whole thing!" I hissed. I felt his arms around me again, and he was lifting me into a sitting position astride him, holding me up, our chests together, our faces inches apart. As his eyes pierced my soul, I sensed rather than experienced, the probing of his cockhead at my rear. With a gentle pressure his tool pried open my sphincter, and slowly began to insert itself through my ring of muscle. There was no pain. In fact, there was almost no feeling at all, the natural lubricant of his pre-cum lining me and easing the way for him so much that I felt an indescribably wonderful warmth penetrating my bowel, insinuating itself into my body as he pulled my face once again to his and resumed our kiss.

My body was completely relaxed, every part of me except for my manhood totally limp. That organ alone was so hard, so pumped and erect that it was almost painful. As he kissed me long and deep, his body remained absolutely motionless, but his cock snaked further and further into me, sliding across my prostate and weaving its way through my gut to fill me completely. I melted against him, into him, around him as he took possession of me. His hose of flesh groped at my innards, twisting and turning as it did and sending waves of pleasure through my entire being. I could feel his cock wrap around my prostate, massaging it gently and making me shudder with joy as he teased me, while still he probed deeper into me. Surely his prick must be nudging at my stomach by now? How could it be possible that such a huge dong was inside me? Yet I was ecstatic, filled with pleasure, trembling with passionate enjoyment.

Finally I sensed that he had stopped moving. He could not have inserted the entirety of his masculinity into my body, could he? But I didn't get a chance to wonder for long. Without warning his sword of flesh, upon which I was well and truly impaled, began to move, flexing and writhing within me. I gasped at the new wave of sensations flooding my body, and squealed with delight when suddenly his weapon began to throb, faster and faster, like some kind of massive living vibrator. Still his body remained still, all of the motion coming from his cock alone, but I cried out as electricity jolted my nerve ends at the erotic stimulation he imparted. From where I was held, I could see his tail rear up and stiffen, almost imperceptible shudders running through it.

Again, his lips met mine, covering my mouth, his eyes wide open and staring into my own. Now he began to move, slowly at first but with a rising tempo as his hips thrust forward while his arms held me firmly. I could feel the pounding of his pelvis, feel the slapping of his balls against my arse cheeks. So he really was fully inside me! I didn't care, I gave up all thoughts of anything but the unbelievable sensations taking control of my body as he fucked me, the base of his shaft slid back and forward through my rectum as his prong swayed and trembled throughout my cavern and the vibration of his lovemaking filled me completely. I clenched and flexed around him, hanging on for dear life, wanting this to go on forever. I could feel the orgasm building in my nuts, and knew I couldn't hold out much longer, but was reluctant to let go of the incredible experience rocking me.

Suddenly, he became still again, pounding his body with one almighty thrust hard against my upturned arse. The motion of his cock within me reached a fever pitch, the vibrating so fast it was a hum, the probing and twitching of his length filling every part of me. Still joined at the mouth, I sensed his breathing stop as a strangled choke surged up from his throat and into mine. His cock swelled impossibly within me, thickening along its length and driving me wild. My balls contracted and I tried to call out a warning, but starved of oxygen I could do nothing as a quaking, all-consuming climax rolled over me and my cock erupted in a geyser of jism that sprayed up and over both of us, coating our stomachs, our chests and our bodies with my essence. And then I felt it. A spreading, searing heat commencing somewhere deep inside me and quickly filling my being, a pervasive tide of passionate delight that seeped into every part of me. He was cumming! Depositing his seed in my body, drowning my insides with his juice as he emptied his gonads. Incredibly, a second wave of flaming arousal enveloped me, and yet another load of cum spiked upward from my still hard cock. It was the first time I had ever experienced the fabled multiple orgasm!

Finally, I felt the tension in him ease a little, and a rush of air forced its way into my starved lungs as he remembered to breathe again. I relaxed once more into his supporting arms, still filled with his massive prong, still locked together in his embrace, still breathing through him as I enjoyed the ongoing kiss which slowly became gentler and more tender. My body ached, exhaustion flooding me, but it was a wonderful, satisfied aching, a pleasantly comfortable exhaustion as I floated down from the peak of my climax.

He stood, with me in his arms, his fantastic cock even now lodged in my gut, and carried me from the cave and across the beach into the rolling surf, letting the sea wash us clean. Sinking below the water, he held me to him, breathing for both of us as his fins became erect and his tail switched back and forth moving us out into the depths. We raced through the ocean, water streaming over and around us while we were locked together as one, joined at the lips and connected by that amazing dick of his penetrating my body....

... Then there was a jolt, a shock of hardness, and I was alone again, he was gone. I thrashed around looking for him, but once again the water stung and closed my eyes. I struggled to breathe, felt the tearing pain in my lungs, the salty water in my throat. Something hard and gritty - sand - was against my back and I began to go limp again until I felt once more the warmth of lips on mine, breathing air into me, bringing me back to life. I choked, spluttered, coughing up water from my chest and the lips moved away. I opened my eyes slowly, and there he was again, Iain. Leaning over me, only inches from my face, a look of deep concern in his beautiful green eyes.

"Joy? Joy? Speak to me. Are you okay? How do you feel?"

I tried to answer him, but my throat hurt and I could only cough some more.

"Somebody call an ambulance, quickly!" he shouted to the group of people who had started gathering around us. I looked more closely. He wasn't naked any more. His shirt was gone, but his shorts were wet and wrapped around him. His fins and tail had disappeared, his gills closed over, his scales turned back into skin. Wet skin. He started to shiver with the cold and I felt the tightness of the wetsuit covering my body. But I could clearly see the two golden rings of metal through his nipples, and I smiled.

"Hey there," I whispered to him, my voice throaty and hoarse. "That was one hell of a fuck! Thank you. We'll have to do it again some time."

The last thing I remembered was a strange lack of understanding on his face which slowly turned into a smile, and then I closed my eyes again and drifted into unconsciousness.

... to be continued.