Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/shark-reef/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
"Why didn't I just roll over and go to sleep and leave you to sort yourself out? Because, Ian, while I have a prick, I'm not one. You gave me a really -- I mean fucking mind-blowing -- gift; not returning the favor would be, well, just plain wrong. I could be mistaken, but I think you might even have enjoyed it?" He launched himself up at me and shocked me to my soul. His kiss was innocent and exploratory, but one of the most intense and feverish I've ever experienced. Some small but insistent voice in the back of my head whispered, 'We could really get used to this...'
Shark Reef 6: Unfair Play
By Bear Pup
So the eternal question returned, who has to sleep on the wet spot?
Since my back was coated with cum and Ian was still kissing me, there was little chance it wouldn't be me. I sighed. Worse things could happen. Ian finally backed away from the kiss itself and turned it more into a snuggle. I eventually turned and pulled him into my bristly chest. His deep sigh of contentment lit a spark inside me and my ego purred in delight.
I knew that it really should disturb me, the fact that I was absolutely crowing inside that I made this kid, this male kid so happy... but it didn't. I fell asleep to those thoughts and gradually began to dream. As per normal with a dream, confused jumbles of shapes and sensations slowly resolved. I was in Faultline Park, just downhill from our house. The central area has huge, smooth boulder-piles that make for great ad hoc chairs and tables for a picnic. The only minor difference between the real Faultline in Salt Lake City was that where the park had grass, our little bounder-picnic was surrounded by shark-infested water.
We were staying on the rocks because the sharks, as sharks were wont to do, kept thrashing their way up onto the pavement to try to eat us. Hey, no park is perfect! Abigail and all six girls were screaming at me to do something. I knew if we could get to 400 South where the cars were roaring by, we'd be fine. But the narrow sidewalk was impassable as the sharks kept jumping back and forth across it. That was, apparently, entirely my fault.
I kept telling them to shut up and let me think, but every time I did the din redoubled. Nothing I did was ever good enough. I turned to find my boss giving me that 'what's wrong with you' look that always made me want to rip his face off. On the other side stood the Rector from St Paul's shaking his head in disapproval. What? I was supposed to pray the fucking sharks away? Fuck you people!
I awoke suddenly to a very loud noise. Actually, a very small noise way too close to my eardrum. I jumped up and shook my head until the buzzing horror flew off. Part of the Lunk-Lunk came with me, glued to my back, tumbling Ian out of slumber as well. I just muttered, "Nightmare," and stepped off a way sot take a much-needed piss. I near screamed as I forced myself to stop midstream and went back to the tent and grabbed the water filter. Hey, it was worth a shot. Ian just looked at me appalled.
It's damned hard to piss into the funnel of a filter that you have to hold with one hand while aiming with the other. Eventually, I filled it and pissed the rest onto the ground while the filter worked. I tentatively took a sip. Well, so much for that theory. It still tasted like, well, piss! I shrugged though; I'd had South African beers that were much worse... and roughly the same color. Hmm.
It was very late in the day so I set about the ritual of fishing. It took longer yet again, and the sun was halfway sunk in the western ocean before I got a good, strong bite. This one was feistier than the others, but I could tell it was smaller. I was right. What came up was a bit over two feet long and thinner. Based on my thorough (utterly-non-existent) knowledge of the aquatic fauna of the Pacific, I guessed it was some sort of jack or mackerel, but with fewer teeth.
Scaling was suddenly a breeze with the new multi-tool and I sent another prayer to the soldier's personal saints to keep him safe. Ian was industriously working away as I fished and cleaned, and I was shocked with what he'd rigged up.
Using a few of the metal bars that made up the pull-behind handles of some of the luggage plus two of the smaller Ninja Knitting Needles, he'd constructed what seemed a perfectly-serviceable grill! I looked close and saw he'd stripped another of the ruined Cat-5 strands down to the copper to connect the cross-pieces. He'd also found four coconuts to support it over a shallow fire-pit he'd scooped out.
Impulsively, I gave him a huge hug and pounded his back in congratulations. when I pulled away he was blushing and smiling shyly. As it turned out, his contraption had one flaw. The black paint on the handles emitted a foul, horrid stench when heated. Ian was crestfallen and nearly in tears. I gave him an elbow nudge and a smile. I let the rack cool and had he-of-the-agile-fingers unwind the bindings. I sent him off to find more wood and scraped a second hole a few yards downwind from the first. Using the second-longest pair of knitting needles like a pair of chopsticks, I moved a half-dozen of the large coals there. When he returned, I laid half the wood over the coals in the new pit, then the various parts of the grill and then the rest of the wood.
We quickly retreated well upwind as the wood caught fire and the paint began to spit noxious smoke into the air. I emptied the slop-bucket into the frothing mass of fish that magically appeared, then returned to find Ian sitting against a palm, frowning and deep in obviously-unpleasant thoughts. His face was a study in melancholy and I decided to try and bolster his mood a bit. I went to the nest and rummaged through Drug Dealer until I found two bottles of Chopin Vodka.
"Ian, if you're not busy tonight, would you like to go on a dinner date?" His eyes boinged and forehead scrunched. "I know a nice little seafood place. The service sucks as bad as the food but," I pulled out the two vodka bottles, "they have a great martini. Vodka, neat."
Ian beamed at me and stood. "I was going to stay home and wash my hair," he smirked in that adorable accent, "but since you asked so nicely, sure."
The hissing and spitting billows of smoke had mostly faded, but we sat upwind of the first fire to be sure. I leaned over and pulled him to me, giving him a closed-lip but passionate kiss. He pulled back, "Mr Cantrell! On a first date? What kind of boy do you think I am?"
I chuckled but leaned forward to whisper, purring right in his ear, "We'll find that out later..." My blood sang as I saw him shiver.
I pulled back and went to other fire, carefully extracting the blazing-hot lengths of metal and leaving them on the sand to cool. It took very little time before they were merely warm, and I used the screwdriver on the multitool to scrape away stubborn flakes and patches. I carried the result to Ian who proceeded to retie his copper bindings and the fish was soon cooking on the grill over the wonderfully-settled coals.
I sat and curled him onto me. "Now, where were we?" Ian sighed deeply and allowed me to reinitiate the kiss. I kept to the Frist Date style, a kiss of promise and tenderness, and feeling of passion-in-check. I leaned and began to kiss his neck and shoulder, then returned to his ear, "So do you still think I'm just toying with you? Using you to get off and nothing more?"
Ian rocked back in shock. "How? How did you? I never said!" I kissed him again but he pushed at me.
I sank into his eyes and let me see the sincerity in my own. "I thought so last night. I didn't really know, though, until I found you brooding under that palm. I'm just not really a use-em-and-lose-em kinda guy." I leaned forward and Ian moaned softly as I resumed the slow, not-exactly-chaste kiss of his cheeks, face and finally his lips. I could feel his nipples harden under the long-sleeved shirt and felt him shift repeatedly trying to accommodate the rising need in his groin. When he started to breath short and shallow, I pulled back and exulted in the hooded, glazed look of his eyes.
"Our waiter is impatient to serve us."
"O, fuckem..." Ian tried to recapture my lips but I was already out of reach and moving to the nest.
I went into Rag Bag and got some thick cotton that might work as potholders. Back at the fireside, I told Ian to dig a shallow pit so the fish wouldn't end up with sand in it as I gingerly balanced the highly-unsteady contraption to lift it with fish to the 'table'. While there were way too many little bones, the fish was delicious. I got an idea and started to alternate between feeding Ian little morsels and myself.
He was actually shaking when we were done and curled into me. It was so comfortable and natural, but so utterly unlike the same positions with a girl. This was a not a soft, curvaceous body, but a whipcord-strong young man in the prime of life. He kissed me this time, and I let him, but kept it in the (relatively) chaste style.
Eventually, I pulled away and we policed the fire and the fish-parts. Rather than try to wash the stuck-on fish, I decided to use a little cannibalistic ingenuity. I tied the whole contraption to the leader and dropped it on the watery slope on the lagoon side where rocky coral kept the water to a mere six or eight inches. Even in the moonlight, I could start to see disturbances as the fishy night-feeders found the makeshift feast. I knew that the metal could not last long between the heat and saltwater before crumbling with rust. I also knew that Ian and I would either be rescued or dead long before that could happen.
It was very late when we finally went to the nest again. I insisted on changing the 'sheets', extracting a pair of chinos and two massive cotton shirts (top and bottom sheets) and bundling the previous bedding off to the side. I stepped out to relieve myself and came back to find Ian already in 'bed', smiling seductively. I decided to teach the kid a lesson in coy.
I snuggled in behind him and his hands instantly went to my cock. I pulled his hands up and kissed them. "First Date, remember?"
"B-BUT!?" I silenced him with a deep powerful kiss, still no tongue, pulling his body into mine. He moaned low and urgently after a minute and began to wriggle and hunch against my belly and rock-hard cock. I deftly flipped him, complete with an adorable squeak of surprise and pulled his back to me. I knew he could feel my rampant cock at the small of his back and smiled. I never came near to his crotch, but I methodically petted his belly and chest, nuzzling and nibbling into his neck and ear. I kept that slow burn going until his breathing became fast and desperate "J'J'J'JB? Uh. JB? Can we...?"
I let my voice go into a sexy growl puffed right across his ear, "Mmmmmmm. No, Ian. First Date, Rememberrrrrrrrrrrr?" He moaned now in serious frustration instead of pleasure as I kept petting. Eventually we fell asleep, but I held him in a way that I would wake quickly if he tried to extricate himself. Whenever I woke and was sure he was firmly in dreamland, I reached down and stroked his cock until he started to hunch in his sleep, then went back to the regular position.
I woke slowly and luxuriantly to a lovely, sensuous feeling. Ian was rocking back and forth against my manhood and I felt his cock slimily pushing against the back of my hand. Ian was having a VERY special dream. I let him continue for a minute, but as soon as his pace changed, I shook him awake. He groaned piteously as he came back from erotic-dreamland. He rolled to me and tried to reach both me and himself. "Still First Date, Ian, even if you did sleep over at my place?" I smirked and he scowled.
We got up and around in the morning cool, each of us dressing, him reluctantly wanting to play instead. I saw him get a furtive look and he moved off to the tangle of trees. I gave him about three minutes then followed quietly. As expected, Ian was spanking to beat the band, hunching into his fist so hard he looked like a question mark. I patted him on the shoulder in a bro-friendly way and he nearly shat himself.
"Actually, I had the same Idea. I need a piss, too." His look was stunned and intensely frustrated. "That's was you were doing, right? Unzipped in the trees and all? Pissing?"
He stuttered and blanched and finally said yes and tried desperately to piss through his hardon. Oddly, that had never been a problem for me. Plus, my older brother had taught me and my younger bro a secret when were we all teens ourselves.
"Having trouble?" Ian blushed vividly. "Here, let me show you a trick. He gasped then moaned as I grabbed his dick at the base with one hand. He threw his head back and I could hear him mutter his thanks to a variety of saints. I brought my soft middle finger to the frenulum. If I'd stroked that spot lovingly and repeatedly, I'd have given Ian the (sexual) release he so desperately needed -- and obviously expected. With five or six stronger stokes, all from the shaft toward the tip, though, I gave his bladder relief instead. He moaned low and deep as his stream arched high above the bushy vegetation in front of him.
"There, feel better now?" I let the hand at the base drag slowly up the shaft and Ian groaned as his stream became sporadic before returning to full flow. I waited until he was done and mutinously zipped up without moving or turning away, giving him no chance whatsoever to bring himself off. There was absolutely nothing whatever to do, so we raided Teeny Bob.
There turned out to be four nice e-readers, Kindles renown for insane battery life and readable in the bright sun. Ian also grabbed an iPod and headphones and started to bob his head to some rhythm I couldn't hear. I started go through the indexes of the Kindles. One, unsurprisingly since the cover had a unicorn with a purple-and-pink background, was packed with 'young adult fiction for girls' which basically were bodice-rippers for those yet to develop a bodice. The titles were nauseating. Even Ian was revolted. That one was instantly relegated to Teeny Bop Hell.
Another had to have been Beach Bimbo's or someone like her. The tasteful suede cover hid a macro-library with seventy-gillion self-help and 'relationship' books, along with some Woman Power authors. I actually liked a few of those, especially in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy realms, including Margaret Atwood, Ursua K Le Guin, Octavia Butler and Sherry Tepper. I handed it to Ian who flipped through and shrugged, handing it back. I set it as my tentative.
Next was probably Hulme's. Packed with Greg Herron and, from the cover art, a wide array of other gay-themed stories. He also had a serious collection of business books, especially in the areas where business and mathematics converge. Good bedtime reading, perhaps. I handed that one to Ian and I saw his eyes light up at all the gay titles. I smiled.
The last one I mentally dubbed Psycho. Everything ever written, apparently, by Terry Pratchett swam alongside Lewis Carrol, the Tao Te Ching, Alistair Cook anthologies, Canterbury Tales (in Middle English no less), a massive tome (like two rows of Kindle dots) on Amerind Myths and Legend, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Psychiatry texts, Amelia Peabody mysteries and Hard-Sci SF like Brin and Stephenson. Who the hell was this person? I set Psycho aside for the comfort of Beach Bimbo and quickly floated off into the vivid world of The Parable of the Sower.
I felt a hard, icy chill when the book's demagogic villain incited his followers to atrocities under the slogan of 'Make America Great Again'. I went to the title page. As I remembered, it had been written in 1993, nearly a quarter-century before those words took a candidate into office. I noticed that Ian was obviously enjoying his book as his hand kept creeping to adjust his raging wood.
I nudged his knee and he looked up, somewhat startled, and pulled out the earbuds. "Huh?"
"I thought me might talk a bit, you know. Get to know each other." He almost suppressed an eye-roll before he smiled indulgently.
"Sure."
"Let's trade questions?"
"Okay, you first."
"Well, let's start with the fact that I'm from a part of the US where there really aren't a lot of openly gay people, so I don't mean to be offensive. If I am, please tell me. When did you first know, I mean, that you might be... that way?"
His smile was far older than his years. "When I was 14. I realized that my fantasies were never about me with a girl. It was either guys by themselves or me watching guys with girls, and I always focused on the guys. So, my turn." He mimicked my voice quite well, including what he would think as a flat and featureless accent, "When did you first know, I mean, that you might be... straight?" His cheeky grin and the aplomb with which he lobbed that back rocked me. A second later, so did the question.
"Wow. I, um, I guess I never really considered any other alternative! I guess I never 'realized' that I was straight, it's was sort of a baked-in assumption in our family. The church I go to is theoretically pro-gay, but, well, it was never an option! Now that I think about it, your question to me was a lot tougher then mine was to you. You probably had to think about that a lot, where I never even consider it. Okay: What do you find attractive in a man?"
Ian blushed hard and looked away instantly. I almost regretted the question until he answered, still not looking at me. "Men, older than me. Strong, gentle. H-H-Hairy..." His voice trailed off.
I chuckled. "I remember summer camp -- do they have those in Ireland, where a group of kids goes to a sleep-over camp for a couple weeks? -- anyway I was, oh, maybe 12? The showers were a fucking eye-opener. One of the camp counsellors was this huge bear of a man. We called him Yogi. Mine was not the only jaw to smack the floor when he stepped into the open showers. I hadn't spouted A hair and this guy had hair, I mean, fucking everywhere!" I could tell I had Ian's attention and decided to play with the truth a little... a lot!
"Thinking back, he was showing off. I think he was probably trying to get some of the guys interested in, well, extracurricular activities? It never occurred to me then, but he spent a looooooong time soaping and rinsing his cock and balls, and bending over to thoroughly rinse his big ole hairy ass and crack." Ian's eyes were large and he was absentmindedly groping himself through the shorts.
"I guess there had to be guys there who, you know, were looking with a whole different set of eyes than I was! I was just mortified to be so small and hairless. Luckily, most of the other guys my age were about the same so I stopped being so worried. Yeah... now that I think on it, I wonder how many of those campers got a much more practical 'education' in camp living, if you see where I'm going." I chuckled lecherously. I faked contrition quickly. "Oh, God. Sorry. It was your turn to ask a question."
Ian swallowed several times and his voice was creaky when he continued. "Um, so, uh, did you ever...? When you were, you know, a teen?"
I smiled slowly but was crowing inside. Damn, this was even better than I'd hoped! "Welllllll, yeah." I managed to force a blush. In point of fact, Darren at that mission was the only time I'd actually touched a guy's cock before. I had jacked off next to my buddy, Aaron, over a stolen playboy once, but that was it. That didn't mean I couldn't drive Ian nuts for a while, inventing wildly.
"I guess I was 14. My best bud, Aaron, was all het up over a girl at school. Betty. He wanted to date her and was terrified she'd laugh at him for not knowing, well, you know, how to kiss and such." Ian was hanging on every word, hand still touching himself frequently, subconsciously. "He whined and wheedled and called in favors right and left and I finally agreed to be a temporary Betty as long as he did the same for me.
"We kissed and it, well, didn't do much for either of us. We talked about it and decided that maybe we needed more to make a kiss work, so we started touching and hugging, too. That was better so we kept escalating until we were groping and humping madly, finally making it to full tongue-battle. I swear he sounded like a jet taking off his voice went so high when he unloaded in his jean-shorts. So, yeah, I did a little as a teen" I chuckled.
"Um, and... and then?"
"Nope, my turn for a question, remember?" Ian nodded spastically. "So, who taught you to jack off?" Ian's jaw dropped like a rock. He started to mumble. "Hey, now, none of that. I came clean about Aaron."
"M-m-m-my brother, Michael?"
"No, now, you got to give more than that. You do and I'll tell you what happened later with Aaron."
"When I, um, well... We shared a bedroom, all three boys. The four girls were next door. Sean was sleeping over someplace and Michael saw I was, um, hard when I got up. I was t-t-twelve? He was fourteen. He asked if I'd got hair yet and I said I didn't know. Of course, I knew. Duh. I had four that I could see." When he wasn't looking, I glanced down. A wet spot was widening at the head of his dick and Ian was gripping it like a little boy trying not to wee.
"Michael, well, he pantsed me when I wouldn't say and said he counted six. I rushed to the mirror. The two I couldn't see were underneath. He pulled my balls up out of the way to show me and I, well, I moaned. He asked if I was wanking yet. Wanking is what we call it. I shook my head and he, well, he kept hold of me and showed me how. He spat into his hand a few times and showed me how to make the foreskin work right. It took maybe six seconds?" Ian laughed. "It was also the first time I made sperm, just a dribble, but he congratulated me and called me stallion and th-th-that was it."
"So it was only the once?"
"Oi! You finish Aaron first, mate!"
I laughed hard and replied, "Actually, I cheated. There really wasn't much more to tell. Aaron barely looked at me for a week. He goes out with Betty Friday and comes to the house the next morning with four tiny half-circle cuts on his cheek. Apparently, he tried our practice session on her and she slapped him so hard her nails cut in, then kicked him, hard, right in the nuts. He came by to warn me." Ian laughed with me this time. "He did make hints for several weeks about me taking 'my turn' but then he found out that I was going out with Betty just without the battle scars. We were friends again after she dumped me for a rich kid, but nothing else ever happened -- at least not with Aaron.
"So, was it only the once with Michael?"
"Yeah." Ian sighed deeply. "When I asked, Michael said it was a brother's job, just as I'd have to teach Sean when he got hair and got hard. I did, you know, teach him. But I didn't have the guts to do what Michael did, so I just talked him through it and he did it himself. He was terribly embarrassed and so was I.
"So, uh, did you get a blowjob before, from a guy?" Now this I didn't have to make up at all.
"Several. The first was at college. I was a Sophomore. I was out with buds, all of us lamenting the fact that Salt Lake City was not exactly pussy central. Mormon girls just didn't give it up, you know? So we were all driving each other nuts with stories of what we had gotten, hand- or blow-jobs mostly, and not many of those. I got up to use the can and another guy who'd been at the bar came in behind me just as I started to piss. I heard the latch slide and looked over my shoulder.
"The guy was taller than me, thin, bookish. Smiling like a tiger. 'I heard you in the bar. Hard up, huh?' I turned back to the urinal and said, 'Fuck, you have no idea. Don't talk about it, though, or I'll never be able to finish.' He moved next to me and said, bold as brass, 'I wasn't planning on talking about it. You're a hunk. You want me to.... help you out?' I wanted to turn and punch the guy, but my stream had stopped like a knife cut it off I railed so quick.
"I ran through options. Slug him. Run out. Report him. All those options had one flaw in common -- I would still be horny afterwards. I scowled at him for a second and turned. 'Get to it then.'" Ian's face was very, very red. "Yep, right there in the bar's bathroom, this guy drops to his knees and hoovers me up. Best fucking blowjob of my life up to then. He took his time, teasing the head then bobbing on the shaft, hands tickling and massaging my balls. I was biting the inside of my cheek so hard in an effort not to scream and moan that I tasted blood. He was driving me wild and knew it.
"Then another first -- he swallowed. When I realized that he wasn't spitting it out, it was actually like my orgasm started all over. I came so hard and long that my balls ached the next day. He stood up, thanked me, checked the mirror and was gone.
"I finally caught my breath just as one of my buds came in. I was, luckily, pissing again by then. 'Christ, JB, how long it take you to piss?' I chuckled and made a comment about the beer. He sneered, 'The beer or the conversation? I bet you yanked one out, you perv. Is that what took so long?' I just smiled widely and contentedly as I finished. He frowned at me while I washed and zipped. He pestered me about it until I left that night." Ian was frankly shaking now with need.
"Well, it's getting hot. Let's hit the nest, Ian, for the afternoon nap." He moved so fast to strip and get into the bed I almost laughed, but knew that would ruin the evening's surprise. I slipped in behind him and foiled his attempt to turn and start some loving. I wrapped my arms around him, firmly locking his own in place. I was careful; he couldn't reach either of our dicks, and I could tell the frustration was beginning to undo the kid. Well that was just fiiiiiiine. I smiled wickedly as Ian fidgeted and finally dozed. This was going to be a hell of a night.
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 27 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 18 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 20 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Off the Magic Carpet: 13 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/ Lake Desolation: 12 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Dear John Letter: 3 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/ Shark Reef: 6 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/ Culberhouse Rules: 3 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/
Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love (5 installments) .../incest/in-gods-love/