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Home to Fire Island Ch. 01

By: sr71plt



[Note: This work has six chapters, the posting of which should be completed by 15 January 2016.]

*****

Danny was concentrating on the probability examples in his textbook that he didn't realize that he had the dog tags in his mouth, sucking on them as was one of his bad habits, until he heard the chuckle from across the library table. He looked up into the smiling face of the guy he'd seen there several times earlier. He was always smiling at Danny—not concentrating on anything of his own, although he had papers fanned out in front of him. He was just smiling at Danny.

Embarrassed, Danny tucked the dog tags back inside his T-shirt. He didn't like showing them, even though they gave him comfort. The tags were all he had left of his dad—his real dad. They were all of his dad that had come back from Iraq and had been given to him. They were reminders of times more settles, happier, when he could have given a smiling definition to the word "family."

The man reached over and slid the book Danny had laying beside his school texts across the table, turned it to where he could read the title, and looked up and smiled at Danny again. it was a copy of Andrew Holleran's Dancer from the Dance that Danny had sneaked into his house. He kept it hidden at the back of the bookcase in his room behind his sci-fi fantasy books when he wasn't taking it out of the house to enjoy some place where his mother or Floyd wouldn't see it. But he didn't really have to hide it in the house, he thought. His mother was a crummy housekeeper; years ago she had declared she wouldn't come in his room again until he picked up all his clothes—and she'd kept to that promise. He didn't think that Floyd paid any attention to books—it was just the magazines and posters that he zeroed in on.

Holleran had opened up a new world for Danny. He'd had no idea the gay lifestyle could go on in the open like that—and so close to where he lived, in dull Plainview, the name of which explained it all. In Plainview, everything was in plain view and it was all tawdry and dull. They were practically in the suburbs of New York City, and Danny had never even gone that far from Plainview in his life. And to think, from Holleran's descriptions, that there was this whole other life, out in the open, in another direction from Plainview, but not even as far away as New York City was. Fire Island was settling in Danny's brain as some sort of Disneyland out there for guys who liked guys—and who did something about it.

But he was mortified that the man had seen what he was reading. Did the man know about the book—what it was about? His smile seemed to indicate that he did. Danny reached over and slid the book back to his side of the table and bent down and put it in his book bag. He tried to return to studying his probability book and not looking at the man. But he couldn't stop thinking about him. He'd been thinking about the man quite a bit the last couple of weeks. Whenever Floyd went at him, he thought about the man. The man was a lot better looking than Floyd—and younger too. He might be thirty or more or less. Danny couldn't tell, and he hadn't put a lot of thought into that question anyway. The man had a strong-featured face and all of his hair. Floyd didn't have all of his hair. He was trim and well-muscled and he dressed like he had money. Floyd was an auto mechanic—and dressed like one, and always had oil stains on him like one.

Floyd didn't compare in looks. Danny hadn't been able to avoid thinking how the man compared with Floyd in other respects. Danny had come to grips with his wants and desires—that his desires were for men. He just hadn't done anything with anyone but Floyd—yet—although he was building up to it. And it had taken him time to become resolved to getting it from Floyd. He was embarrassed now that he not only let Floyd do those things to him but that he looked forward to it. Still, there must be more than what he got from Floyd. The Holleran book had indicated that there was more—that it could be more satisfying, that it could be better, less humiliating.

Danny wondered if his mother knew what he and Floyd did—what Floyd came to him for. Danny didn't know the answer to that, but he did know that there wasn't anything he could tell his mother about Floyd. His mother thought that Floyd was the best thing that ever happened to them.

"He wants to be a father to you, Danny," she'd said when she told him that Floyd had finally offered to marry her—after nearly a year of sleeping with her here in the house. "And he wants to help you. He'll put you through the community college here—and god knows how we'd manage that without him. He makes good money. He's probably the best auto mechanic in town. Everyone wants him working on their car. He'll bring us some comfort."

And of course she was right about the stability Floyd had brought to them. He'd saved them from living from day to day not knowing if his mother's tips at the beauty parlor would be enough to carry them to the end of each month.

And Danny had never seen his mother this happy before. The nights Floyd put on Country and Western music had become a signal that they'd be bumping the headboard of their bed against his bedroom wall that night. Danny had come to hate the Country and Western music. The next morning after it had played, though, his mother would be humming and dancing around the kitchen when he got up to make the bus out to the community college. His mother was well fucked now. He'd have to give Floyd credit for that.

Yep, Floyd was taking care of them both all right. He didn't give any signals when he took Danny, though. He just did it. And, to Danny's embarrassment, if he went a week without doing it, Danny began to crave it.

Danny took a peek in the direction of the man sitting across from him again, intrigued and considering what the possibilities were. He hadn't had the opportunity—or, perhaps, the courage—to go with anyone else other than Floyd yet, although the Holleran book had given him ideas, urges. When Danny took that peek, though, the man wasn't there, across the table, anymore.

"If you're interested, meet me in the men's room on the first floor of the stacks. It will be private enough there. But if you want more, more privately, I will take you somewhere."

The man was standing beside Danny, bending low and whispering in his ear. He had a hand possessively on Danny's arm, right under his bicep, and that sent a shiver of thrill up Danny's spine.

"Excuse me?" Danny said, truly flustered.

"You know I've been watching you. I know what you want. I can give it to you. First floor stacks men's room."

The man was gone, leaving Danny to redden up. He gathered up his books with shaking hands and stuffed them into his briefcase. He was trembling as he found the stairs and descended to the first floor and then back to the stacks. He had no idea where the men's room was down here, but it didn't matter. He had no intention of meeting with this man either. He had his urges, yes, but now that he could act on them, he was frightened silly about doing so.

But then he was there, facing the door of the men's room. He reached out for the handle, but the motion was arrested by the giggling growing louder from the shelves to his left. Two young women and a young man emerged from down the dimly lit line of the bookcases.

"I'll catch up with you. Gotta stop here a minute," the young man said to the women. Danny stepped to the side as the man brushed past him and entered the men's room.

Danny turned and looked sheepishly at the two women. They smiled at him in passing. Then he turned and escaped down a line of shelves until he was at an exit stairway. He argued with himself all the way home. Someday he'd have the courage. He'd been right there; he would have gone in if the other guy hadn't shown up. He wanted to experience it all. But he just didn't know where—and how to start. As he walked, he thought about the Holleran book. Perhaps that was telling him where and how to start.

* * * *

"Come over here. Give me some sugar."

Danny's eyes opened wide in panic. It was daytime. Nearly noon on a Saturday. Danny was just coming back from studying in the library. His mother was going to fix him lunch. Floyd should be at the garage, working on people's cars.

But there was no sign of his mother in the kitchen, which opened out into this combined living room-dining room space. And Floyd was sitting in his recliner; pointed at the TV, where a college football game was playing. He was sprawled, beer in hand, and just in his briefs.

"Where's Ma? Why aren't you—?"

"Your ma got called into the parlor. They're shorthanded. We had a fire in bay one. The garage is shut down for the day. Sos I thought I'd watch Florida State get creamed and maybe get myself some of that there sweet young guy poontang. Had a hard time waiting for you. Didn't really wait, though."

He laughed and Danny's eyes went down to Floyd's groin, where a big, almost-black cock was laying in his hand outside of his fly, half hard.

"Floyd," Danny managed in a strangled voice. "It's afternoon. It's daylight."

"And when you get fucked in the dark, it don't count. Right? Get your sweet ass over here, and don't be a crybaby. You can't fool me. You pant for it."

"Floyd."

"You make me come and get you, and it will go hard for you. You don't think I can track you down? Come on get on over here. And get on your knees."

Before he realized he was doing it, Danny was on his knees between Floyd's spread thighs and working that big, brown cock with his mouth. Floyd leaned over him and pushed his gym shorts and briefs down to below his butt cheeks and was fingering his hole.

"OK, time to sit on it."

"No, Floyd. Night's different. Can't be doing this all of the . . . no please, Floyd. Oh, god, no. NO! Oh Shit!"

Danny was sitting on Floyd's buried cock, both of them facing the TV, watching Florida State celebrate from recovering the football.

Floyd was humming, working Danny's nipples under his T-shirt and hooking his chin on Danny's shoulder, watching the TV. Otherwise he wasn't moving, although his cock was slowly sinking farther up Danny's channel.

Danny was panting and groaning. "Floyd."

"You want it. I know you want it; you know you want it."

"Floyd, let loose of those dog tags, man. Let loose, or, I swear I'm outa here."

Floyd had inadvertently grabbed onto the dog tags hanging around Danny's neck while he was playing Danny's nipples, rubbing them against Danny's chest.

"You ain't leaving me. Not 'till I'm finished. You want it bad." But he did release the dog tags, and Danny whipped the chain holding them over his head, put them down on the side table next to the chair, and slid them under a drink coaster. Turning his attention back on Floyd, Danny widened his stance, letting the cock sink deeper inside him. Floyd made little thrusts up with his hips, groaning and grunting, but then he tightened his embrace of Danny. Danny had had his eyes closed and was concentrating hard on the movement of the cock inside him—pushing his mind to the feel of the taking and trying to shut out the reality of the taker. Not being able to continue the action brought him back into the present. His eyes opened, seeing the football teams clashing together in the TV picture tube.

"Floyd, no. Oh shit." Danny was trembling. Floyd was holding him close, still. They were over the edge now. This was where Danny just gave up and let Floyd start a rhythm of deep pumping. But that wasn't happening. Floyd had stopped and was just holding Danny in place. Then, slowly, Floyd let his arms fall away to outside the armrests, and Danny felt Floyd's legs relax.

Was Floyd telling him it was over—that he'd just been teasing and wouldn't fuck him? Danny was confused.

"Fuck yourself. Show Daddy how much you want it."

"Noooo," Danny whimpered. Letting Floyd fuck him was one thing. Wanting it and fucking himself on it—in broad daylight—was something else altogether. At night, being invaded in his bed, he could think that wasn't really his choice. He had comforted himself with that thought, no matter how silly and fallacious it was.

"You do it. You want it. You're hard, you're beside yourself with want. You do it."

Floyd waited him out. With a sob, Danny started to rotate on the cock and then to rise and fall on it, using the leverage of the soles of his feet on the carpet.

"That's right. I knew it. You want it; can't get enough of it. I'll just provide the pole. You'll ride it because you want me."

Mortified by what Floyd was saying—and more so because he was right—Danny used his stepdad's staff to pleasure himself.

Floyd began to breath heavily and was having a hard time holding off and letting Danny do all the driving. With a laugh, he gave up, pushed Danny's torso forward and then grabbed his wrists and bowed Danny's chest up and back—Floyd's favored fuck position. Danny started to fuck himself on Floyd's cock in earnest—and Floyd started to do his part in the thrust-counterthrust department.

"Touchdown, Florida State," the announcer on the TV screamed. With a cry, Danny ejaculated. And then just to be in the spirit of the occasion, Floyd allowed himself to ejaculate too.

"Get me another beer."

"I gotta go study, Floyd."

"After you get me another beer."

Danny went for the beer, set it down on the table beside Floyd, and turned to leave.

He was stopped by a vice grip on his wrist.

"We only did it once. That's not fair to you. I know you want it a second time."

"I really gotta go study, Floyd."

"OK," Floyd said, his face set in a lopsided grin. "You go on now."

Danny only made it to just inside the hallway to the bedrooms. Floyd was on his back, forcing him to the carpet. Then he had an arm under Danny, palming his belly, and forcing him up on his knees. He crouched over Danny's hips, thrust inside the young man's channel roughly, and reached for his wrists. Bowing Danny's chest back by pulling his arms back tightly, he swiftly and expertly fucked Danny a second time. Afterward he just let Danny sink to the carpet and went back to the TV set.

Danny lay there, moaning and hating himself. Floyd hadn't lied. The second time had been the best.

* * * *

Danny lifted his head and smelled the sea breezes. The tangy scent surprised him. The beach had been another place he never had gone in his eighteen years. Plainview didn't have a beach. Plainview didn't have much of anything. Danny knew that he knew nothing of life. He was no more than weaknesses—wants he couldn't control. The wants were OK. He'd come to accept that, but he wanted much more than he had been getting.

He stood for a few minutes just off to the side from where he'd climbed down from the bus from Plainview to Cherry Grove. He had his duffle in one hand and his copy of Holleran's Dancer from the Dance in the other. He'd been reading in that all the way from Plainview, across the Robert Moses Causeway, and onto the barrier island, Fire Island. What he had read in Holleran's book about life on Fire Island as well as in Manhattan's gay baths had moved him to action. He'd do New York City later—when he was experienced and wouldn't embarrass himself.

For now, he just wanted to experience anything he could get here. He wanted to let it all out—to know what this lifestyle was all about in its most hedonist practices. Then he would decide what part of it was for him. He just wanted to be free of the limitations of Plainview and Floyd's tacky world—and be someplace he didn't have to pretend—or wonder how it would be. Holleran—and then what Danny had been able to check out on the Internet—painted Fire Island as a place where there would be no embarrassment in being what he wanted to be and experiencing what he wanted to discover.

He'd left that morning to go to the college for classes. That's why he couldn't take more than the duffle. He hadn't told them he was leaving—either at home or at the college. He probably should have said something to his mother. She deserved some sort of explanation—really some warning. But she was happy with the way things were. If she was going to notice that anything was wrong, she would have done so by now.

He'd found it was going to get out of control. His stepfather, Floyd, had sniffed around him all morning Sunday, even with Danny's mother in the house. He'd called Danny down to the basement and fucked him up against the cinderblock wall, with Danny's mother humming and fixing a meal in the kitchen above their heads.

"We can't—"

"We can. I like it like this. Just a bit of danger. You never knowing when you'll get it. Doin' it right under Mavis's nose."

Floyd was escalating his possession. Something had to give soon.

There was no Country and Western music Sunday night, which gave Danny time to pack as much as he could in his duffle. He left for class Monday morning and was on Fire Island before anyone would miss him.

Danny absentmindedly reached up to his neck and fished the dog tabs out of his T. He rubbed them between his fingers as he looked around, trying to focus. The familiar feel of the tags between his fingers was helping him to steady the flip-flopping going on in his stomach. He'd never been this far away from Plainview.

A young man brushed his arm in passing and turned and gave Danny a smile and an assessing look. Danny shivered in the newness and openness.

"Hi."

"Hi, yourself," Danny answered. The guy was young and built and just in a Speedo. Chocolate brown. Danny's mind went to the blackness of Floyd's cock and set him to wondering. Maybe that's why the guy continued. Maybe there was something of acceptance, want, in Danny's face.

"You new here?"

"Yep. Just got off the bus."

"Being met?"

"No. I just came on a whim. Don't even have a job here."

"You know what Fire Island is all about?"

"I . . . I think so. It's why I'm here."

"Come with me. I want to show you something."

What the black dude had to show Danny—the first thing he had to show Danny—was out on the boardwalk, with a beach beyond it. There were a lot of good-looking men out on the beach.

"It looks like a public toilet."

"Yep, that's it—a dressing house, really, for changing into and out of bathing suits. As good a place as any."

"As good a place for what?" Danny asked.

The young black dude didn't answer.

When they entered a guy was knelt in front of another guy, giving him head. The two didn't miss a beat, and sounds of sex were coming from one of the two cubicles. The black guy showed Danny the second thing he had to show him, which made Danny gasp and shudder, and then he fucked Danny in the other cubicle, with Danny leaning over the broken john, hands splayed on the tiled wall behind, and the black guy fucking him from the rear. His cock proved to be as black as Floyd's was.

Danny felt his dad's dog tags slip into his mouth. The big black guy had gotten hold of the chain, which had moved up to Danny's head and was using it like reins. It must have given him the feel that he was riding Danny like a horse, because he was also doing some "Yipyiyaying" and slapping Danny's buttocks as he rode his ass. Danny ground his teeth into the tin metal, conscious that he might be marring the surface and ashamed that his dad was here for this. But he wasn't ashamed for himself. This was a release for him, getting casually fucked like this by a young stud. This is exactly why he'd come here.

"Nice tight ass," the black guy whispered in Danny's ear after he'd finished. "You can tell your friends back in whatever Podunk town you came from that you got fucked good right off the bus and for them to come on down too. We're always up for fresh male pussy on the island. Good for you too, wasn't it? Best fucking you've had?"


Home to Fire Island Ch. 02



Danny's session at the wall left him weak kneed, apprehensive, and feeling a little guilty about maybe moving too far too fast. And he suddenly felt exposed and robbed of his privacy. He saw that there was a hook over the peephole, and he hung a bath towel on that that dropped low enough to cover the glory hole as well as the peep hole. He wouldn't keep it there, but he'd pick and choose when he wanted to be ogled. Then he quickly showered, pulled on shorts and one of the "Sam's Bar" T-shirts while he was still in the bathroom, and padded out into his room. He set one of the straight chairs down beside the mirror that he strongly suspected was a window into his room from the adjacent room, and sat down in the chair.

He took some heavy breaths to pull himself together. Looking around the room, he spied out the various sexual devices and tried to imagine himself using those. Was this what he wanted? Was this what he'd come to Fire Island to find?

He didn't know. He wanted to be open to possibilities—to experience as much as he could take in search of himself and what he wanted from life. But was it all coming at him too fast?

Could he really be that desirable to men? Surely Fire Island was packed with desirable men—men more mature, more experienced than he was. Of course, he had to admit that his young looks might be an element in why men here might want to sniff around him. Just now, in the bar, Sam had given the impression that Danny's youthful looks were a plus in hiring him. But, even if there were a lot of men who might desire him, did they have what Danny wanted?

What did he want? He didn't know. In that case, he thought, maybe he should drop back ten yards and do more watching than doing for a while.

That lasted for nearly nine hours. And even doing that was a chore.

It was clear that, in the evening, Sam's Bar was one of the more open and rowdy gay spots on the Ocean Grove stretch of the beach. The drinkers and talkers were mainly outside under the grass tiki roof. The serious cruisers were inside, where the smoke lay in a heavy blanket over the crowded tables and dance floor, colored strobe lights were going, and the spotlight was on a small stage topped by a platform with two dance poles running up into the ceiling.

Sally was tending bar out under the tiki roof, and Ruth, Sam's wife, had taken up a stool at the end of the bar there. She was still smoking her cigarettes, one lighting up the next as it burned down to the filter, and holding a glass of booze in her other hand. Danny was never quite sure if Ruth actually drank anything out of that glass, and although she appeared to be watching every movement Sally was making, the two putting their heads together frequently for a private laugh about something, Danny also quickly figured out that Ruth saw everything that was happening at both the outside bar and the inside one. The garage-door-sized opening into the bar building gave her a panoramic scope of the entire operation. A meaningful look and flick of her wrist would send one of the two bouncers who worked the evening shift to any locale in the bar that was heating up toward an incident.

The two bouncers, Fred and Jose, were real bruisers. Danny was to learn that they spent their days on the inevitable muscle beach blacktopped strand just off the street running parallel to the beach, where they worked out with weights and on high bars and flexed their muscles for each other and everyone walking the beach.

Fred was Polish and Danny could never tell if he spoke accented English, because he didn't speak much and when he did, it was with a mumble. He was bald, with a Fu Man Chu drooping mustache, and was mean looking, which probably was a requirement for the job he did. To Danny, however, Fred was always a pussy cat and never bothered him, sexually or otherwise. Jose was better looking and better spoken, although it was with a Spanish accent. He was either Cuban or Mexican—which he picked and chose in saying he was depending on who was asking. Danny got the impression that he was illegal. He was always looking out for anyone who looked or smelled of cop—he said—and would fade into the background at the mere suggestion the law was nearby. He had jet-black hair, a lock of which perpetually was falling in his face, and a big smile that showed off a couple of gold teeth. He smiled even when he was putting a drunk in an arm lock and hustling him to the street.

Both men wore gym shorts, flip-flops, and Sam's Bar T-shirts. On them these looked great, the material of both the shorts and the shirts being strained to almost popping stretch as they breathed. Their chests and thighs were massive; their waists thin, and their washboard abs molded the T's to give the impression of Roman breastplates. They both had impressive basket bulges as well. You had to be really drunk to pick a fight with either one.

The two guys tending the bar were an interesting pair. Lance was slightly effeminate, raucous, and touchy-feely, which some of the clients tuned in to, and Joel was all dark and swarthy bad boy and always wearing tight black leather pants and just a vest over his bare chest. He drew an entirely different interest then Lance did, no doubt a combination Sam set up on purpose. They worked together, and although they worked the crowd well and occasionally would go to the back room, it was never obvious that they were scoring more money in the back room than in bar tips. Although they talked with Danny with easy friendliness, neither showed any sexual interest in him. They were here in the same capacity as Danny. If a patron really wanted to bottom, one of the bouncers could accommodate him.

Throughout his first shift working at the bar, Danny tried to maintain a low profile and to concentrate on the various instructions Sam was giving him on what he should do and how he should do it. There was always some guy reaching out for him as he waded into the table section by the dance floor to serve drinks, but he quickly learned how to smile but not be caught. More than one patron came to him where he was standing by the bar, waiting for an order, and whispered a suggestion in his ear, but he smiled and explained that he was new here and that tonight just learning the ropes was all he could cope with—that maybe on another night . . .

Once after such a discussion, Jose pulled in close beside him, ran a hand down the line of one of Danny's butt cheeks, and offered to show him "the ropes." But Danny jollied that off as well—or at least thought he had.

When the evening started to become rowdy, Danny asked Sam if he could shift to working mainly outside, where there was more talk but fewer roaming hands, and Sam said that would be fine for tonight. But he said it in such a way that Danny knew it wouldn't be fine for another night.

"You haven't been in the back with a guy yet, have you?" Sam asked him at some point.

Danny answered that he hadn't, believing that Sam would consider that to be a good thing.

But Sam came back with, "Well, you need to get into doing that when you feel comfortable with the service out here. That's where we make the most money."

"Uh, OK, Sam," Danny had answered. "It's just that it's new tonight and all. I think I need to go slow and get the job down in sections, you know?"

"I know that there's slow and then there's slow, kid," he answered. "You weren't shitting me when you said you went with men, were you?"

"No, of course not."

Danny moved off as quickly as he could then, because he remembered that Sam had said something about working the pole too. And Danny wasn't ready to do that tonight, either.

He possibly was in luck on that this night. It apparently was some sort of amateur night. They had a DJ there with records and corny jokes and a lounge lizard voice, but the guys going up on the poles—and not that often on Danny's first working night—were coming up from the audience.

Danny kept an eye on them, trying to take pointers from those who did it the best and got the best reaction from the crowd—for when he'd have to start doing it. Most of them were lame, couldn't do anything to the music, and stripped down much too fast to be erotic. Most of the ones most willing to dance weren't the ones that most patrons wanted to see dance. One young guy, though, was quite good at it—and had the crowd fully behind him. He had a great, lithe body and had the look about him of a sensual Greek boy. Marble-white skin, jet-black hair, bedroom eyes, and thick, sensual lips. He stripped down to his bikini briefs slowly and moved well with the beat of the music.

He seemed to be there with an older man—a very distinguished-looking older man, with a good body. Not old old; just a good fifteen years older than the younger guy. Danny looked at him as much as he did at the young guy working the pole, because it was evident that they were there together and that the older guy wasn't completely happy with how into the exhibition the guy on the pole was.

Danny found himself eyeing them both—and, surprisingly, finding the older guy more arousing. That bothered him a bit. He'd come to Fire Island assuming he was looking for younger guys. So, he wondered, why was he eyeing an older one? Was it because nearly all of his sexual experience had been with a controlling "daddy"? Maybe underneath he thought that, but was scared of it, and had come to Fire Island to beat that out of his system.

The rest of the evening, these thoughts ran through his mind. Along about 3:00 a.m., it occurred to him what working the four-to-midnight shift meant. It meant that at 1:30 the bartenders stopped taking drink orders and at 2:00 a.m., Sam and the bouncers started moving patrons to the doors. The last hour, Danny did most of the cleanup work, under Sam's direction, while the bartenders cashed out; Ruth and Sally headed for the stairs to the apartment overhead, arm in arm and smiling to each other; and the DJ and Fred, the bouncer, evaporated. Jose, the other bouncer, stood next to the door from the inner bar to the street, leaning against the side of the door, beefy arms crossed, and watching Danny work.

Just after 3:00, Sam announced he was going to his office—which proved to be the room next to Danny's bedroom on the other side of the window mirror. As he left, he said that Jose could lock up and that, when Danny had scrubbed down the last of the table tops, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

"So, ya wanna fuck?" Jose said in a hoarse voice when it was only the two of them left in the bar.

"Sorry, not tonight. It's late, and I'm done in by my first night working," Danny said. He smiled at Jose, though, not wanting to antagonize him. He turned and walked toward the back.

He'd barely made it beyond the beaded curtain, when Jose was there close behind him with his beefy hands gripping Danny's waist.

"I think ya wanna fuck," he said.

Danny tried to make it to his room, but he didn't stand a chance. The bouncer was too much muscle for him. He fucked Danny against the wall, beside the door into Danny's room. He had Danny's T and shorts off while he was still standing behind him, and although Danny struggled against him, all effort was ineffectual. Jose entered him from behind, with Danny bent over at the waist, and held him there as his dick bottomed inside Danny's channel.

"So, ya wanna fuck?" Jose bent over and whispered in Danny ear.

"Jose . . . don't . . . not tonight," Danny whimpered.

"Ya gonna fight me? I don' mind if I gotta fight for it."

"No," Danny whimpered.

Jose pulled out of Danny's channel then and pulled him erect, turned him, and pushed his back against the wall. Getting his knees between Danny's thighs, he spread them and lifted Danny off the floor with the strength of his own thighs and slammed his now-bare chest against Danny's.

Resigned, Danny hooked his legs on Jose's hips and rolled his butt up to meet Jose's searching cock. Jose wasn't long, but he was very, very thick, and Danny groaned and grunted as the big Hispanic pumped him.

During the encounter, Sam came out of his office. Surely he could see them, Danny thought. But Sam said not a word. He just went over to the staircase to the apartment overhead and was gone, clumping up the echo-sounding wooden stairs.

Later, in the early morning hours, Danny lay, naked, in his bed. He had enjoyed Jose's fucking. He wouldn't pretend otherwise, and when Jose had left, saying that maybe they'd do it again the next night, Danny admitted to Jose that he'd want it if it happened. Still, it hadn't been completely satisfying. Danny couldn't help but think that there was something else—something more arousing and satisfying out there.

He went to sleep fiddling with the dog tags suspended over his bare chest and pondering all that had happened to him in this first nearly twenty-four hours he'd been on Fire Island.

He assumed he now knew all that that first twenty-four hours entailed. But he was wrong.

Not long after he'd drifted off to sleep, he was awakened by the weight of knees on the foot of his bed and hands on his ankles, spreading his legs. Then hands on his butt cheeks, spreading them too, and a tongue at his rim and then inside him. He raised his hips to the tonguing, the bulb of his engorging cock gently stroking the surface of the mattress with the movement of his pelvis—until a hand pulled his cock back between his legs and the moistness of mouth pressed at his entrance, now splitting its duties with sucking his cock.

"Floyd," Danny murmured, still half asleep, imaging himself in his own bed at home.

The weight of a man lowered itself on his back, and a hard cock was entering him from behind.

"Floyd," he murmured again.

"Not Floyd," a voice Danny knew but couldn't quite place, whispered in his ear. "You know a Floyd who does you like this? I won't bother you often—as long as you bring money in—but I gotta know that you aren't shitting me—that you want a man inside you."

With that, Sam went back up on his knees between Danny's thighs; grasped the young man's wrists; pulled Danny's torso up, bowing his chest up and back; and began rocking a not-too-thick, but quite long cock ever deeper inside.

When Sam began to pump Danny's channel with increasing depth and speed, Danny cried out, "Oh Shit yes! Fuck me. Fuck me!" He set his hips in motion, just as he had involuntarily done those last few days when he felt himself slipping away under Floyd's control. Floyd had gasped at Danny's response then and it urged him to drive harder, and Sam gasped at it now and pistoned Danny like a madman to a victory yelp of mutual ejaculation.

Danny was aware that he hadn't reacted to Jose's fucking this intensively—and he had the awareness to wonder if it was because this was Floyd's favorite position, one that Danny was used to. But he was too much into the fuck to care.

Afterward, with both men still panting hard and Sam draped over Danny's back, his cock still buried inside Danny's channel, he put his mouth to Danny's ear and whispered, "Yeah, you want a man inside you. I had to check that out. You'll be good. Just pretend, each time, that it's a new experience for you and the man is king. And I'll take back what I said. Yeah, maybe I will bother you often. And maybe there are some tricks I can teach you. You're gonna be an A number one moneymaker."



Home to Fire Island Ch. 03



"See that man over there?"

"The one in black leather? With those other guys who parked their cycles out front?"

"Yes," Sam said. "He's looking over here, so, no matter what, keep a smile on."

Danny had just come down from the pole. In the middle of the second week, Sam had insisted that he go up on the pole for at least two sets each night. Lance, the bartender, had given him some basic lessons and pointers. Lance had graduated from the pole to behind the bar. Danny still didn't think he did very well, but that didn't matter to his audiences, and he had well over $100 in small bills stuffed in the waistband of his sequined thong from this set alone. For the after-midnight show he wouldn't be leaving the stage with the thong on—but he no longer had to do the cleanup after closing either. He almost always had someone in his room with him after that last set on the pole and beyond closing.

"Saturday night's the big night here," Lance had told Danny, looking at him closely to get his reaction. "There's an additional show at 2:00, and we don't close up until 3:00. And whoever does the closing show on the pole doesn't go back to his room with anyone."

"What do you mean?" Danny had asked.

"Anyone who stays past 1:30 has to pay a stiff entertainment fee. During the 2:00 pole dance, Jose, or anyone who pays a lot extra fucks the pole dancer on stage, with everyone watching. But when we close up at night, there are to be no outsiders in the building. So, you might be fucked on stage in the last set, but you don't take anyone from the outside back to your room beyond closing."

Danny considered this last dance set business. He'd told himself he was going to try it all here on Fire Island this season. "The pay good for the pole dancer?"

Danny hadn't come to Fire Island for the money, but the money here was so good he started thinking about being able to continue in college and living on his own after the season close down here.

"The best," Lance answered. "Better than the rest of the week put together. Especially on a special night."

"A special night?"

"Sometimes more than one patron wants to pay to be on stage."

"Ah, well." Danny said nothing further. A patron had paid Sam to let him take Danny home the previous Saturday night, so he wasn't there for this special night. And who knew, by this Saturday night, Danny might have moved on. Or, maybe after thinking about it, he'd want to have a new experience.

Danny had been turning tricks now for three nights, but Sam had been limiting the engagements. He said Danny wasn't ready to be taking offers directly. Sam would pick out who went with him. And Sam would take the money and give Danny what he gave him the next day. Danny got the impression that Sam was funneling the high payers in his direction.

"Keep each one fresh—like you've never done that particular thing before," Sam kept telling him. "You're a natural innocent. Just remember how to tighten yourself up inside—and do a lot of moaning. But also remember to tell him how good he was. One of your first, but also one of your best."

"You sure about the guy you're pointing out?" Danny asked Sam when he'd seen the biker. He was all muscle and black leather. He didn't seem the high-paying type.

"He's a friend of Jose's," Sam answered. "And he owns the local Harley shop. He's good for the money. He's paid up front. Jose told him about you."

I'll just bet Jose did that, Danny thought. I wonder what Sam's thinking. Jose had thrown on a mad when Sam told him he couldn't touch Danny again after that first time—that Danny was worth too much to the house for Jose to be stretching him for free. "Maybe after a month or two," Sam had said. "After word gets around that he's not so fresh anymore."

Not so fresh anymore, Danny had thought. Then he decided he didn't care. The season would be over in five weeks. He'd either find what he wanted here or move on. The trouble was that he didn't really know what we wanted. He just knew that he felt freer and more in control of himself and closer to satisfaction here than he had back in Plainview with his mother and Floyd. He just didn't know how much farther off total satisfaction was—or what it would be, what it would feel like. Who knew, it might be Saturday night after 2:00 on his back with his legs spread on the stage with guys watching.

"Now or after the last set?" was all Danny asked.

Sam smiled. He apparently had expected some resistance. He was developing Danny slowly. Danny really did seem fresh and to have an innocence about him. Sam didn't know where the "escape" edge would be with Danny. Young guys had come and gone in Danny's position at the bar. They'd all had an escape edge that Sam eventually breached with his progressively more demanding arrangements. Lance and Joel had been able to move to the bar. Most of the others had just walked away in the middle of the night. Some had been rejected by the crowd that came here after they'd been used up. Danny looked like one who would be used up. Sam just didn't know how soon and which of his demands would do it.

"Now. In a few minutes. Jose is back in your room putting the sling up."

"The sling?"

"Yeah. First time, won't it be? Act like it's the first time. Looks are deceiving. This biker has money. If he likes it, he'll be back. You be fresh for him and he'll like it."

The biker was all bulging muscle everywhere but where it counted. Danny decided he must have traded the withering of steroids in the places that counted for flashy deltoids. Danny did get a little thrill of anticipation mixed with trepidation when he was completely incapacitated by being pushed back into the sling and having all four limbs cuffed off high on the four chains running up the corners. But the fuck itself didn't do much for him other than bruise him up a bit. He hardly felt the pumping action; he was mostly paying attention to the biker pounding on his chest and belly and thighs rather hard with his fists as he worked hard to grunt himself to an ejaculation.

Danny must have guessed right, though, on how to respond and the noises to make—until the biker had gagged him, obviously pleased at pulling screams of pain out of the smaller, but perfectly formed, and beautifully handsome nearly chaste youth. When the guy had gone, Danny had heard him talking to Sam out in the hallway and saying that he'd be back.

* * * *

After the first week, Danny worked out with Sam that, since the bar didn't really close at midnight and Danny rarely closed his legs before 3:00, he didn't really need to come in to work until after 6:00 in the evening. The late afternoon crowd really had someplace else to go after dinner or they would have come into the bar later. Sam was quick to realize that the money to be made off Danny was after the first set on the poles at 9:00 p.m. Danny wasn't the only pole dancer, but he had quickly become the most popular one with the late-evening crowd.

Afternoons Danny started to explore the island—mostly its beaches. Maybe, he thought, total satisfaction would come from young guys on the beaches who didn't club all that much. Even then, Danny began to get the inclination that maybe what he hadn't attained was some form of commitment and normalcy. Maybe he'd find that in the community of guys who just came here to meet and play with—and fuck around a bit—other just regular guys.

After a couple of days checking out the regular beaches—and noticing that most of the guys going there were already hooked up—Danny decided to up the ante. The guys at these beaches might give him a smile and a second glance as he walked around in his Speedo and the cut off T-shirts that only said "Sam's" because he'd cut them off below the pecs and lost the "Bar" part, but they usually were with someone else and had a set of friends they were working with. He had cut the shirts off because he had great abs, and he knew he did. He was more than a pretty face—although his face didn't hurt his prospects, he now was coming to accept.

Most of the close attention and offers Danny was getting at these beaches were from over-the-hill, big-bellied older men. He got a lot of attention from cops too, though, who mostly thought he was underage—or who were just hassling him to get a fast fuck in an alley or squad car in exchange for not taking him in on trumped-up charges. Danny didn't mind; the cops here kept in good shape, and he didn't mind being fucked by a randy guy in a uniform.

So, after this beach experiment, Danny decided to go where there weren't so many over-the-hill guys. He got the brilliant idea that the ones who weren't in shape wouldn't be as inclined to go to a nude beach. He also thought there might be more single guys cruising on a beach like that. He was equipped nicely too, so he could see no reason why he couldn't get some new experiences at a nude beach.

He found out that the Fire Island Lighthouse Beach near the western end of the island was the "the place" to go for young, gay nudists. He'd also heard that it was a good hook-up spot. So, on the eighth day of his employment at Sam's Bar, Danny rolled up a beach towel, put it under his arm, and took the public bus headed west.

The beach was really interesting. The older, out-of-shape guys tended to stay up on the road, sitting in their convertibles with binoculars and offering rides to guys they'd been zeroing in on when they came off the sand. The beach wasn't all that crowded that day. There were a couple of groups of guys playing volleyball, all young and in great shape. There were some couples laying close together on towels on the beach, and then there were a lot of singles, either staked out on towels or roaming around and cruising the talent on the beach.

There didn't seem to be any inhibitions. All of the guys were naked, and it was evident that not many guys came out here if they didn't have great bodies and good equipment. He walked around a bit looking for a good place to settle where he could see and be seen. And as he did so, he realized that there really were few inhibitions here. There were guys sucking and fucking on the beach towels. Not just in pairs, either. There were some threesomes. Out in the surf, he even saw where a train had formed, and there must be five or six guys fucking in one chain while the waves rolled over them and, laughing, they did what they could to remain both upright and hooked up.

He passed one set of six hunky young guys playing a vigorous game of volleyball. Danny was half way passed them when he heard a "Hey, guys, check this one out" call out in a bass voice from the midst of the volleyball players. Danny turned at the sound of a wolf whistle.

"Fresh meat, I think," rang out another voice, this time a higher, tenor pitch to the voice. "Ain't seen you here. New?"

"First time on this beach," Danny said with a smile.

One of the guys was holding his genitals. "Wanna play? We could have a ball. Got something good for you."

"We'll see," Danny said and then continued on across the beach as the six hunks went back to their play. The banter had been friendly, nothing threatening. Still, Danny shivered a bit at the thought of six built guys like that.

He settled down not far from one end of the beach, where there were rock formations off to the side. It didn't take him long to realize that some of the guys seeking more privacy were going back into these rocks to get their enjoyment.

With a contented sigh, he laid back and closed his eyes and soaked up the rays.

He hadn't been there long when he felt he was no longer in the sun. He opened his eyes. A good-looking dark-haired guy was standing below him, blocking the late afternoon trajectory of the sun's rays.

"Hi. I haven't seen you here before," he said. The guy looked Greek. Beautiful head of curly black hair; marble-white skin, despite the sun; bedroom eyes; and pouty lips that produced a sensual smile. His body was perfectly formed. His dick didn't hang low, but it was showing interest in something. Since the guy had stopped to talk to him, Danny decided it was him. He didn't fight his cock waking up too. He turned full frontal and spread his legs.

"First time I've been on this beach." He laughed. "First time I've been on any beach like this. I've been on Fire Island less than a week." Sam had kept pounding into him that men here liked fresh meat. He'd play on that.

"My name's Billy. Haven't I seen you at Sam's Bar? Near the end of last week?"

He'd looked familiar to Danny. Now Danny knew why. Amateur pole night. This handsome Greek had danced the pole better than anyone else. And his sugar daddy hadn't particularly liked the attention he'd gotten.

"Yep, I work there," Danny said. He lifted his cut-off T on the towel beside him to evidence at least the "Sam's" part of the logo.

"I'd like to get to know you better," Billy said.

"That would be fine with me," Danny answered.

"Maybe a bit more privacy. We could go over there in those rocks. Most of them have beach in between."

"Fine with me."

The two kissed and wrestled and rolled around on the towel, each trying to position the other where they wanted him. After several moments, they broke down in laughter, realizing that both were bottoms in search of a top.

Then they cuddled for a while and told each other how attractive they would be if only they knew how to use their cocks to best advantage.

"You get much cocking at Sam's?" Billy asked.

"I think Sam's maneuvering me to be the Saturday night special this week," Danny answered.

"And you're OK with that? You're not scared?"

"I promised myself I'd try everything this season on Fire Island. I'm searching for something."

"Haven't found it yet?"

"I've had some good times, but, no, not the 'it,' if you know what I mean."

Billy didn't answer right away, so Danny continued.

"But I saw you with a really good-looking guy that night. I think that if I had a daddy like that, I wouldn't be out on Lighthouse Beach this afternoon."

"He's OK. He's Kyle Wilson. Owns a marina in Cherry Grove and he's an architect. He's designed many of the fancy beach houses on the island. He cocks great—sort of insatiable that way, and beyond exhausting, actually. Surprising for a guy his age. Well, for any guy. And he takes good care of me in other ways too. I think he wants a wife, though. He's always trying to do something to please me, but at the same time, to tie me down. I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"Look, you've still got me hard," Danny said. "And you're ready too despite our little farce a couple of minutes ago."

"You ever stroked another guy off while he jacked you?" Billy asked.

Danny shook his head.

"You said you wanted to try it all." Billy laughed and reached for Danny's cock with one hand and guided Danny's hand to his own cock with the other. It wasn't just mutual jacking off they ended up doing. Danny had his first experience in 69ing too.

Danny was dozing when Billy left him with a "Maybe I'll see you around. Maybe I can manage to drag Kyle there Saturday night, even. He can afford it, and he's not getting enough thrills in his life, I don't think. I know he likes you; he talked about you after that night."

Danny was still half awake, half asleep when he heard a rustling sound around him. He opened his eyes to see that the guys from one of the volleyball teams—the six guys who had teased him earlier—were standing around on the rocks surrounding his private little beach and smiling down on him.

In another first for him, he serviced all six—twice each, each one possessing and pumping both of his orifices. He took two on his back with his legs being spread by two other guys and another one straddling his chest and feeding his mouth. And two took him doggy style with a guy at his head, hands cupping his ears and fucking up into his mouth. One wanted to take him from the rear, both standing, and one of the guys sucking Danny off. The last, the biggest of them, stood and held Danny pinned to his pelvis with his cock buried in Danny's channel, and he trotted out into the surf and fucked Danny with waves coming in and nearly knocking them off their feet with each surge.

Danny gave them all a good time, and he told himself he'd had a good time too. As he was walking back to the top of the beach to catch a bus, he heard the wolf whistles start. One of the guys there, sitting on the truck of his Volvo convertible, with his legs hanging down into his backseat, looked a bit younger and in better shape than any of the rest of the binocular crew.

"Hey, want to go for a ride in my convertible?" he called out to Danny.

"No thanks. I've got a bus to catch."

"I can drive you anywhere you need to go. You seen all of the island? The eastern end?"

Danny hadn't seen all of the island, yet, no, and he had intended to go out to the eastern end someday just to see what was out there.

The man—Danny never got his name—drove some twenty-five miles east, into the Otis Pike Wilderness Area park, near a spot he called the Old Inlet, where he parked behind a sand dune and nailed Danny on the backseat of his car, holding one of Danny's legs up against the back of the seat and Danny digging the heel of his other foot into the side of the front passenger seat headrest. Afterward, he gave Danny a ride back only part way, to Blue Point Beach, where the guy said he lived. He did, though, give Danny twenty dollars and bus fare and his telephone number, saying he'd like to give Danny another ride anytime Danny wanted good sex.

The sex was OK, but not exactly what Danny would call good.

On the bus back to Sam's Bar, Danny forgot the single-guy encounter almost immediately and his mind went back to the gang bang on the nudist beach. He kept telling himself that there must be something more arousing, more satisfying than even that multiple taking. One of the guys had teased him with the possibility that two of them might fuck his hole at the same time. They didn't do that, but Danny now wondered if that was the experience he had been searching for.

Maybe. Maybe Saturday night. Sam had said that sometimes more than one guy had a go at the pole dancer late on Saturday night.



Home to Fire Island Ch. 04



"It's Saturday."

"Yes."

"You've been here nearly two weeks now," Sam said. He was sitting next to Danny at the dining table in his and Ruth's apartment above the bar while Sally fed Danny a late lunch. It was Sally's apartment too, the young man realized. It had taken him several days to figure out that Ruth and Sally were lovers. Maybe both with Sam too, for all he knew. Maybe they all did it together up here, Danny thought, with a little frown, trying to envision that happening. Although Danny could see that Sally had a room of her own up here, and he didn't know when they'd have time for much fooling around. Sam seemed to be downstairs doing something that needed to be done in the bar nearly all of the time.

He'd just been down in Danny's room with Danny, doing him. Sam had said it was training—checking out how Danny managed bondage. The young man was on the bed, kneeling at the edge, with his wrists bound behind him, high up on his back, with a lead to a neck collar. Danny also had two double-opening cuffs, with the large opening strapped around his upper thighs and the smaller opening around his ankles, which made Danny's heels pull up toward his butt.

Sam stood on the floor between Danny's thighs, with his cock buried in the young man's channel. He had a leash attached to Danny's neck cuff in back, and he was controlling the slow pumping action of his cock by pulling Danny's chest up with his leash and then releasing it, making the young man's buttocks move on and off his cock.

"Uncomfortable?" he'd asked.

"A bit."

"But arousing too?"

"Oh, yes."

"In what way?"

Danny thought a bit. "In the feeling of being completely helpless. At the mercy of the man fucking me. The sharp edge of fear. What will he do to me while I have no control? Will I ever be freed."

"Yes, show him a bit of that fear, but don't think you've lost control. You can control him by the way you react to his attentions, what you impel him to do next. You can keep him on a high of thinking he has complete control, that you are completely at his mercy. Use your fear and your sense of innocence—and the trust you have shown in him, your willingness to be helpless under him—to control him. Show me that in the way you respond to my kiss . . . there, yes, like that. Feel the effect of that kiss—what you showed me in that kiss—in the change in my cock inside you. Yes, very nice. Don't ever think—or let yourself be—helpless with a man."

He hadn't finished Danny that way. "Just want you to get a feel for it and be able to figure out beforehand how you're going to make the guy feel good doing it—to want to pay to come back for another taste of you."

He hadn't left Danny undone, though. After Sam released Danny, he'd turned the young man on his back and spread his legs and fucked him while he looked down into Danny's eyes. He did it slow, giving Danny a lot of love. And Danny could tell that Sam was fucking him because he wanted him. Danny began to practice what Sam had told him to do to control a man. Danny moaned and clutched at Sam's buttocks, arched his back, and opened his mouth in a silent scream of being overwhelmed. And Danny smiled inside as he felt Sam strengthen in size and intensity inside him, tighten his embrace, and begin to pant hard—panting harder for Danny because of how the young man was manipulating him.

Danny tightened his channel on Sam's throbbing cock, something Danny only recently had learned he could control. The young man slowly began to move his hips in rhythm with the fuck, increasing the intensity as if it was an involuntary reaction Danny couldn't control because Sam was cocking him so masterfully. Danny lolled his head to the side, and whimpered, "Oh, yes, Daddy, cream me." And he felt the victory of control as Sam did just that and collapsed on top of him with a deep groan.

There was no doubt that Danny was learning the power of control.

* * * *

When Sam had come to Danny's room to fuck him, he had awakened the young man from his night's sleep. Danny hadn't eaten since the previous evening. After the cocking lesson, Sam asked him to come on up to the apartment, saying that Sally would fix him something to eat, which was what had put Danny in Sam's and Ruth's apartment for the first time. As Danny entered the spacious apartment and looked around, he thought, if you didn't know what was downstairs and what went on down there, you wouldn't have known that this wasn't just any other middle-class apartment in a small town.

It seemed quite homey. And up here the three of them seemed like any family. Ruth didn't look so garish up here in her apartment and, if Danny hadn't already figured them out, Ruth and Sally would have seemed just like a best-friends mother and daughter duo in this environment.

At first Danny couldn't look at Sam as anyone but the man who had just fucked him while he was trussed up, but the longer Sam and he sat there, with Ruth and Sally moving around the apartment, the easier it was for Danny to see Sam in this normal setting too.

And the more Danny was able to see this as a home and the people here as a family, the more appealing it was to him. It got him to wondering if this was what he was missing—some sense of home. God knows he hadn't known that in Plainview. All Danny remember of his real father anymore—when he was being truthful and discounting the hope-filled fantasies—was those dog tags hidden in the sock in the bureau drawer downstairs. After his dad had died, his mother had been too busy trying to work enough to keep their heads above water to think of trying to make them a real family. That's certainly not what she really had in mind, Danny ruminated, even though she claimed it was so, when she'd brought Floyd into the house. All she'd wanted was Floyd's cock. What Floyd had wanted was variety.

"You weren't here last Saturday night," Sam said. He was sitting close while Danny finished the soup Sally put in front of him. It was good soup. A lot better than the carryout, or the snack-type stuff from the bar, that Danny had been eating. Sam was playing with the hair on Danny's forearm. Ruth was moving around the apartment, doing who knows what. Danny wondered if she knew her husband was fucking him. But why wouldn't she know? he realized.

"No. You sent me out with that businessman staying at the Grove Hotel."

"He any good? He do you well?"

"The hotel has nice rooms. I showed you the tip he gave me and you took half. Was it enough to indicate he had a good time?"

"You know you are really amazing," Sam said. "We've never had anyone here like you. It keeps seeming like you're an innocent. But then you don't back down from anything."

"I had it rough before I came here, Sam. But just one way. I'm here on Fire Island to see what other ways there are."

"Anyone tell you about Saturday night around here?"

"Yeah. Lance told me."

"About the late-night set?"

"Yeah, he told me about that too."

"Tonight's Saturday night. We need someone for that late-night set. What do you think about—?"

"Yes."

"You didn't let me finish."

"Yes, I'll do it."

"Just like that? No argument? God, I can't fucking believe you, son. You look at me with those innocent eyes of yours, and I can't just get my head around how willing you are."

"I came here looking for something, Sam. I'm still trying to figure out what that is."

"You don't mind if guys watch?"

"I don't know. I haven't tried that out much. It hasn't bothered me yet, though, what little there's been. I think I sort of like being watched. I went over to the Lighthouse Beach Thursday afternoon."

"You go naked?"

"Yeah, I wanted to know if guys would look at me—like what they see. And I wondered what I'd think if they did."

"Of course they'd like what they saw. Did you like it?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"What we did just now, down in your room. That sort of stuff happens in the late set Saturday night. That's what I was checking out. You seem to have done fine. You didn't—?"

"It was fine, Sam. The lovin' afterward was good too. Any time you want me . . ."

"Oh, god, Danny." Sam leaned his face into Danny's and they kissed. Both Ruth and Sally were fluttering around, but neither one of them seemed to care. Danny was feeling something stirring inside. Was this what home was all about? Lack of pretense, acceptance. Sam was no hunk, but he was a comfortable fuck, and Danny was beginning to feel affection for him. Sam was old enough to be his father, though—and then some. Danny wondered if he was tied up in some sort of psychosis of not really having a dad when it counted. His dad rarely been around, although Danny remembered the times he was as periods of calm, security, and happiness in what otherwise was a frenetic life with a mother trying to cope alone and not being particularly good at that. Overarching their lives had been his dad's job—the military. Years at a time overseas, fighting. And, finally, there had been a body bag and a set of dog tags.

"It's not just the equipment on Saturday nights," Sam continued after they'd kissed. "On nights when there's a crowd and they're really in to it, it won't be just one guy. I doubt you ever—"

"Six guys—well-hung guys—fucked me at Lighthouse Beach Thursday. One after the other. A volleyball team. My first time, but I kinda got off on it."

"Jesus, Danny. Six guys."

"Athletes. Healthy and strong. And they didn't pay. The guys tonight will pay, right?"

"Yes, of course. But, shit, Danny. Six. And you worked that night and took two more."

"I liked the six better, but the two paid for it, so that was good too. I thought it might hurt more than it did with the six, or that it would wipe me out. But when they were done and I was leaving the beach, I let a guy drive me to the other end of the island and fuck me in the backseat of his convertible. So, I can't say I know what too much is like yet."

"Christ almighty, you're a cool one," Sam said, his voice punctuated with a little shiver. "Six. I don't think we ever . . . but there's DP too."

"DP. What's that?"

"Doubling. In the case I'm talking about, two guys, both in one hole at the same time. Surely you've never—"

"No, I haven't. Sounds painful."

"I could make sure it wouldn't get to that. I could—"

"Would they pay extra for it, if that's what they wanted?"

"Yes, of course, but—"

"Well, then. If it's something I've never done before and I'm here on Fire Island to try it all . . ."

"You wouldn't want to just do it on stage the first time. You can't really say yes to it without any idea how it's going to be."

"If it's something I need to know about . . ."

Sam was trembling. Danny could feel it from the strong grip Sam had on his forearm. Still looking deep into Danny eyes, searching for some sense of an edge beyond which Danny wouldn't go, but not seeing any evidence of it in his eyes, Sam spoke to Sally in a low voice. "Sally, go downstairs, please, and see if Jose has shown up for work yet. If so, ask him to meet Danny and me in Danny's room."

* * * *

It was nearly 4:00 a.m., and Danny was exhausted. He'd done nothing but smile and moan and tell all of the guys how good they were for more than an hour. They were on the padded platform with the two poles at either edge. The rangy construction worker was laying on his back on the platform, with Danny laying on his back on top of him, his shoulder blades digging into the man's chest. Danny's arms were laid out wide from his body, his head pulled back hard next to the construction worker's head, and his mouth open wide, jaw almost unhinged, as a hung guy stood over his head and face fucked him.

The construction worker was holding real still, the palms of his hands on Danny's belly and his cock inside Danny's channel. Danny's legs were raised onto the shoulders of the black biker who was standing on the floor next to the platform. His was the cock that was slow pumping Danny's channel, rubbing on top of that of the construction worker's as he was doing so.

Several other men were gathered around the platform on the stage. They were all naked except for the cell phones in their hands that they were using to fire off photo shots. They'd all paid through the nose to be on the stage—and to fuck Danny—and even more to be permitted to take photos. They'd all already fucked him. This was the finale of the night.

Video cameras pointed down from the ceiling onto the platform and from various other angles around the room were sending images to screens on the walls to show those who hadn't paid for the special attention what was going on.

When he was able, Danny was looking at the screens too. What he saw was arousing, especially in connection with it actually happening to him. But it still didn't seem to be the ultimate that he was after. There still seemed to be more out there that would move him to say, "Now I'm completely satisfied."

Earlier in the day, after Sam and Jose had introduced him to DP—but certainly not anything like he'd been through later that night, Danny had showered and hobbled out onto the street. He had wanted to work the soreness out. When he'd seen Sam and Jose, both naked, coming at him on his bed, he'd had no idea how he could manage it—or even how they could set the positions. But he was shown that there were several positions. And he had managed it. There was a little sense of accomplishment in that.

But he had the urge to get out of the bar. He'd already said he'd do just about anything late that night, but he'd suddenly had the feeling of too much too fast—a feeling that had fleetingly visited him fairly often in the week and a half he'd been on Fire Island. Sam had given him the opportunity to set limits after he'd gotten a taste of the DP, but Danny hadn't backed down. There was the money, but it wasn't just the money. Danny wanted the feel of it. The knowledge that men wanted what he could give—that they'd go wild to get inside him. That they'd even be aroused in sharing him.

And he couldn't get out of his mind that last weekend at home in Plainview, just two Saturday's ago, when Floyd had burst his bubble of being taken advantage of—of only doing it because he was forced. The humiliation of Floyd just sitting there, his only contribution a hard dick. And of Danny working hard to fuck himself on it—wanting it and not being able to deny that he did.

Each time he had been fucked in the last nearly two weeks here on Fire Island he had wanted it. The hard dick inside him. Each time, if the other guy had just stopped and done nothing, Danny would still have wanted to ride the dick. But each time Danny hadn't been completely satisfied.

He walked the streets of Cherry Grove that afternoon, reaching into the residential section. Wherever he saw men who attracted him on the decks of the beach houses, they weren't alone. There were other guys—sometimes only one; sometimes several. They were all having a good time, obviously comfortable with each other. All a family.

He had moved to the beach side and walked the line of the monster mansions. He stood, fingering the dog tags laying between his pecs with the word "family" running through his mind, in front of a house built in weathered gray wood that spread its wings toward the sea and swept up in the middle to a high peaked roof covered in wood shingles. It looked like a massive bird or ship ready to soar out to sea. It made Danny want to soar out to sea with it, to seek ultimate satisfaction somewhere out there in the cloud-draped sky.

Two men, one older and one younger, were on the deck, drinking beer and cuddled together. Focusing on them, Danny recognized Billy, the guy he'd 69d with on the Lighthouse Beach. The two looked so happy and into each other. Knowing a bit of Billy now, Danny thought that it wasn't natural. Billy was probably putting on an act, and the older guy, the guy Billy had said was Kyle and was loaded and an architect—probably the architect of this glorious house—probably had no idea that Billy was playing him, using him.

While he watched, the older guy stood and shrugged a robe off his back. He looked real good from behind—not thin, but built solid and with good, firm buttocks, his shoulders lightly covered with curls of dark hair. He sat back down in his deck chair. His pecs were covered in hair that trailed down his sternum. The man reached over and pushed the robe off Billy's shoulders. Then the man pulled Billy up from his chair and down into his lap, facing him. Billy spread his legs and dug the soles of his feet into the railing of the deck behind the chair and at the side of the deck. He arched back, his arms over his head and draping down to the flooring of the deck, while the older guy grabbed his waist with both hands, and then Billy's body was moving in and out on the older guy's lap, being fully powered, Danny thought, by the hands of the older guy.

Aroused, but with a feeling of frustration, Danny lowered his eyes and walked farther up the beach. He passed the soaring house again on his way back to the bar more than a half hour later. Billy was standing at the rail, riding it with his belly, his head and arms swinging low toward the beach. The older guy was standing behind him, hands on Billy's hips, obviously pumping him from behind. As Danny watched, the older man arched his back and lifted his head to the heavens. Billy jerked too. They had come together. Danny wondered what that felt like. Then Billy stood, and the older man encircled him with his arms, one hand going to the young man's belly and the other to his chest. They rocked back and forth in their embrace for several minutes, their faces plastered together in a kiss.

Thinking the fuck was over, Danny pulled his hand from under the waistband of his shorts, where he had been stroking his own cock. His other hand let loose of the dog tags at his chest. He turned and walked up the beach several yards. He looked back for one last view of something he ached to experience, and stopped dead in his tracks, surprised, but with what Billy had said to him about Kyle—that he was insatiable and could go all day—floating up in his mind. Billy was on his back on a patio table, the older man between his legs, holding one of Billy's legs up the line of his hairy, barrel chest. He was rhythmically fucking Billy again. Billy had the knuckles of one hand in his mouth, and he was arching and relaxing his back, obviously being fucked totally. 

Danny wanted to run up to the house and scream that he'd give anything to be Kyle's Billy. But, of course he didn't. He returned to Sam's Bar to nap until the crowds started to arrive later in the evening—to prepare for what he knew would be a taxing performance of his own.

He lay on the platform, flat out on his back, panting slightly, only half conscious, as Sam and the bouncers cleared the bar and shut and locked the doors.

"You were great," Sam whispered as he sat down beside Danny's spread-eagled body, gently moved Danny's flung-out arms down beside his body, and ran his hands over Danny's chest and belly, massaging his groaning muscles. "I'll have to count it, but I'm sure it's the most profit we've ever had in one night. You'll get your share and a good bonus, of course."

Danny groaned at him, only managing to slit his eyes open.

"You OK?" Sam asked with a concerned voice. "Watchin' all those guys taking you like that . . . I almost couldn't take it. But you gave them a real show. They couldn't get enough of you. It might be best to skip over you next Saturday. Get one of the other guys to do it. Don't want to wear you out—and having to wait for it again should loosen the wallets of the patrons."

Danny grunted. "Yeah, fine. I'll be OK tomorrow. I'm sure." Sam's concern would be real touching if it didn't include talk of profits and scheduling doing it again.




Home to Fire Island Ch. 05



Danny locked the door to his room on Sunday morning after he was finally alone and wouldn't come out even for the offer of lunch upstairs. Then when it was dark he slipped out to find something to eat somewhere where no one would know him. The bar wasn't open on Sundays, so there was no requirement for him to work.

He was thinking increasingly of what he wanted. It wasn't what he had gotten in that last Saturday night set, he knew that for sure now. He'd continue doing it—for the money to help pay for his college—until the end of the season, but it wouldn't be this that kept him on Fire Island.

The thought of moving upstairs with Sam's family and sleeping with Sam was more of a possibility, but that wasn't quite it either. Sam was a user. Danny had the notion that he might like the older men, like Sam, more than younger ones. But with Sam it was more about his bottom line, even if he tried to come across with words indicating otherwise. And it wouldn't be much of a trade. There were elements of Danny's mother in both Ruth and Sally. And the same in Sam of Floyd, although Sam certainly wasn't the user and abuser that Floyd had been.

No, Danny didn't think that what he was seeking was a trade of the family in Plainview for the one at Sam's Bar.

He locked his door that night as well and draped a sheet over the mirror on the wall between his room and Sam's office. He reread a few chapters of the Holleran book, running his hands over his body and fondling himself, and went to sleep clutching the dog tags to his chest. He slept the sleep of the exhausted, his body still mending from the Saturday night calisthenics. But he didn't sleep so deeply that he didn't hear the turning of the door knob to his door in the night.

He assumed that Sam had a key to the door and if he had used it and come into the room, Danny would have accepted him. It wasn't sex Danny was rejecting—it wasn't even Sam. Danny just was on edge, not being fully satisfied and not understanding why. There was some sense of home that he was pursuing; he thought he'd worked that out. A mutual commitment of some sort that he had felt. But not really having had a home for a very long time, he wasn't sure if he'd recognize it if he stumbled into it.

The next morning he left the bar again before there was any sound of activity from the apartment above. He had already walked the streets of Cherry Grove, and it had provided nothing but frustration for him. He decided he wanted to see more of the island, to check out some of its other beaches beyond that of Cherry Grove and the nudist beach at the lighthouse. He caught a bus headed to the west end and got out at a place called Kismet—just because the name caught his attention.

There was a beach there, and a pier, and a row of beach-fringe mansions just like at Cherry Grove. Some of them were similar to the one that he'd seen Billy and his older "daddy," Kyle at, and Danny found himself wondering if Kyle had built any of these.

Bare-chested and with his flip-flops in one hand he walked the beach between the line of houses and the surf of the bay. At the last moment before he'd left the bar, he'd taken off the Sam's Bar T he was wearing, suddenly not wanting that connection while he explored this day. Much of the time he was clutching the dog tags dangling between his pecs.

He'd gone out on the wide, long public pier, to the end, and turned around and looked back. There must have been forty or more mansions lining the beach, set above it on a low cliff, so that even their first floors peeked out over the dunes at the top of the beach. Most of the houses were of weathered wood, like Kyle's house was. Some soared like his did too, but some also had towers rising from them with decks on top, where the owners could get a real good view. Quite near where the pier came out into the water, Danny's attention was arrested by one of the larger houses in the line, one that had a roof giving the impression of sails, just like Kyle's house and, now that Danny thought about it, like the roof of the Sydney Opera House in Australia that he'd seen in photographs.

It wasn't so much the house itself that had caught Danny's attention as it was the turquoise color of the patio furniture on the deck off the first floor, as well as on the balcony deck of the next level up and even up on top of the tower that rose from the top of the house, with an outside staircase winding around it. The color of the furniture was a little shocking against the weather-beaten gray of the house planking and the walls of tinted windows. It wasn't ugly; it was just attention getting when it appeared that the whole point of the design of the house was to disappear into the landscape.

Focusing on the turquoise furniture zeroed Danny's eyes in on a lone figure at the railing of the deck on top of the tower. The figure of a man, in navy-blue boxer swimming trunks, was leaning over the rail and looking out toward where Danny was on the pier.

Danny walked back along the pier toward the beach. There was no one else on the pier or in Danny's line of sight. It was just Danny and the man standing at the top of his house and leaning over the deck railing. Danny kept his eyes on the man while he walked back to the beach, and he had the sensation that the man was maintaining watch on him as well. It was like those dramatic scenes in a movie where everything goes silent and there are only two people in the world, each with their attention completely focused on the other.

The house was to the east of the pier. When Danny got to the beach, he turned west and walked a good mile up the beach, alternating his attention between the houses on the short cliff above the beach and the bay, where a couple of small sailboats were playing tag. There appeared to be two guys in each of the boats, and they were hailing and waving at each other and weaving their sailboats around each other in some sort of dance. A mating dance, Danny thought. Then he laughed, castigating himself for reducing everything to sex. He was letting the reputation of Fire Island run away with his imagination.

When he reached the end of the beach, he turned and walked back. He looked out to the water. The two sailboats were lashed together now, and closer to the land than they had been when he'd first seen them. The four men were on one boat, paired off, one man on his back on the bow, with another man crouched between his spread legs, and the other pair near the mast, one man clutching at the ropes running up into the sails and the other one standing close behind him, with his hands spread out on the belly of the other, holding their midsections close together.

Danny laughed again, capitulating to the reputation of Fire Island—and nursing a tiny regret that he wasn't one of the men being fucked on the sailboat. As he walked back toward the pier, he was lost in thought about how it would be to be fucked on a sailboat like that. He'd never been on a sailboat. He'd come to Fire Island determined to experience it all. He'd have to look for opportunities for someone to take him sailing—and to sail him over the sun.

He didn't come back completely to the present before he found that he'd walked under the pier and was standing on the beach, facing the house with the turquoise furniture, just staring up at it, fingering the dog tags at his chest.

What brought him out of his reverie apparently was movement at the house. He looked up to see that the man who had been leaning over the rail on the tower deck was now winding his way down the outside staircase that encased the tower. As he did so, his eyes were glued to Danny.

He was maybe in his forties, but in great condition. A large man, barrel-chested, heavily muscled. More of a Zeus than an Apollo in build. Dark hair on top but with gray at the temples going pretty far up into the hair on his head. The hair cut in a crew-cut style. He looked like money and authority or, Danny thought, what his idea of a retired Marine drill sergeant would be—if the sergeant had made a pile of money after leaving the service. He wasn't moving fast, but he was looking directly at Danny.

Danny turned and walked back under the pier and then, at the first street dead-ending at the beach, he entered that and went directly to the bus stop. It was getting on toward when he needed to be back at Sam's Bar.

* * * *

"You OK?" Sam's voice had an edge of concern to it.

"I'm fine, Sam."

"Well, we didn't see you all yesterday, and you were gone today when I came down. I thought maybe Saturday—and well, later that night, got to you. You aren't thinking of leaving already, are you?"

Sam hadn't meant to ask the last question—just like he hadn't meant to fuck Danny after his ordeal in the last set of Saturday night. But Danny was Danny. And Sam was Sam.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just needed some time for my body to recover. I'm fine now. I'm sorry I locked my door last night."

"Ummm, I wasn't saying. I didn't know you locked your . . . you can certainly lock your door whenever you want."

Danny laid his hand on Sam's forearm. "I said I was sorry and that I'm OK. You want to go to my room now? I told you I'd go with you whenever you wanted. Saturday didn't change that."

"Well, uh, no, that's not necessary," Sam said. He was sweating, but it was as much from relief as from not wanting to box Danny in too much. "It's just the serving tonight—and anything on the side you want to do by your choice. Diego and Pete will take the pole tonight. But maybe tomorrow . . ."

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

Monday at Sam's was a slow night. The small Cuban, Diego, did fine on the pole and with the audience. He really knew how to turn on the charm and wiggle his butt. Pete was sort of lethargic, though. Danny's eyes kept going to him on the pole—more for pointers on what not to do when it was his turn.

The crowd was thin enough that Danny had no trouble noticing that Billy and Kyle were there. They didn't stay long, though. Some rowdy guys were playing, putting the moves on Billy. Billy was egging them on, and Danny noticed that, although Kyle didn't show any signs of irritation, they didn't stay long.

They stayed long enough for Danny to get the remembrance of Kyle plowing Billy incessantly on the deck of his house and how powerful Kyle's "daddy" body looked working on his mind to the point of arousing him. Kyle had the same Zeus-style body that the guy with the house with the turquoise furniture had. Danny was enough worked up about "daddy" bodies that shortly before closing he went to Sam and asked him to come to his room that night.

Sam's reaction was like he'd died and gone to heaven.

While they were cooling down from fucking on Danny's bed, Sam broached the subject again of Danny moving upstairs.

"What would Ruth think?" Danny asked.

"Ruth would be fine with it. She's got Sally."

"So, you don't fuck your wife?"

"Sure I do. It would be fine. You could have your own room. It's a big apartment."

"Do you fuck Sally too?"

"When she wants it."

"And both together?"

"We do that, yes."

"You'd fuck the three of us together?"

"I hadn't thought of that, but—"

"It's something to think about," Danny interjected. "Me moving upstairs . . . eventually . . . anyhow."

The talk had gotten Sam hot again, and he was showing signs of wanting to resume the fuck. Danny wasn't as turned on about the prospect of either a threesome or foursome involving the women upstairs, though. His thoughts instead went to knowing it was going to take Sam a while to build up steam again. His body just wasn't on the same arousal schedule as his mind. That made Danny think of Kyle doing Billy again. Fucking him and, just minutes after coming, ready to fuck him again. And then again.

Sam was stroking Danny's cock, and Danny began to pant and moan. He came, thinking of a man who could recharge almost immediately again and again, long before Sam was hard enough to enter him a second time.

* * * *

Danny had no idea what had brought him back to the Kismet Beach early Tuesday afternoon. But he was there, standing and staring at the house with the turquoise deck furniture—bare-chested again and fingering his dog tags. The man came out on the lower deck, again in just boxer swim trunks, and leaned over the deck and stared at Danny.

The two stood like that for several minutes. Then Danny broke the connection they obviously had and turned and walked toward the east, along the line of beach houses. He'd gone the other direction the day before. This time he had told himself he wanted to see what the houses looked like on the other side of the pier.

The distance to the end of the beach, once again, was close to a mile. It was an hour later before Danny came back down the beach. When he got close to the house with the turquoise furniture, his eyes scanned the decks. But there was no one there to be seen. Danny experienced a sense of disappointment. He stopped and stood where he had stood before, looking at the house. He was holding his breath, waiting for the man to come out on deck.

It was a shock then, when he felt the coldness of a wet arm encircle him from the back—from the side of the water. The man—the man from the house with the turquoise furniture—had risen, dripping, from out of the bay. He turned Danny to face him and pulled him in close with an arm around his waist.

Danny was too surprised to do more than tremble and meet the man's lips with his as their faces came together. He had gray eyes. Danny didn't know if he'd ever met a man with gray eyes before.

Danny could feel the hardness of the man's cock against his belly through the clinging, wet navy-blue boxer swim shorts. The man was tall and he'd swept Danny up on his tiptoes so that their lips could meet.

"I want to fuck you." The voice was deep, commanding.

"Yes," Danny whispered.

The man turned Danny toward the pier—surprisingly not toward his house—and guided Danny under the pier, up in the shadows, behind the pilings.

He fucked Danny doggy style there in the sand and seaweed behind the pilings, the pier just a foot or two above their heads. There was no talking. Just grunting and groaning and hand grabbing and probing, cock invading, and prostate worrying. Then hands clutching dog tags and arching Danny's chest back for deeper thrusting. A cry of release from Danny and a push of his chest down in the sand, and the man crouching farther over his back, finding new depth and thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. A jerk and ejaculation, a kiss in the hollow of Danny's neck, and the young man was pushed prone on the sand. Then the man was gone.

Danny lay there, fisting his dog tags and trying to hold back a sob. There was a slight feeling of violation. But, strangely enough, it wasn't because the man had roughly fucked him and then just left him. It was because the man had handled his father's dog tags. Just a casual fuck, but the man had handled the only thing Danny felt he owned—and had given nothing of his own vulnerability in return. Rising, he walked into the surf, washing the sand and seaweed off his body—and the semen out of his channel.

On Wednesday afternoon, the man laid out a large beach towel under the pier, pushed Danny on his back, and lifted Danny's buttocks over the knees he pushed down between Danny's thighs and rubbed the heels of his hands roughly on Danny's nipples as he fucked him hard and deep. Danny had not worn his dog tags. This time the man had brought condoms, knowing that Danny would let him fuck him.

Once. The man had just fucked him once each time. No preliminary. No request the second time they fucked. Assuming that Danny was his after the first request to fuck him. And Danny had come back on his own volition, so the man couldn't be gainsaid on that. Just the one deep and furious fuck. Nothing before, and the man just walked away after.

On Thursday afternoon, he fucked Danny standing against one of the pier pilings, the young man's wrists bound to a hook on the reverse side of the column above his head.

He didn't leave Danny hanging there this time, though. As he was undoing the cuffs, he said. "My name is Lawrence. I live here at the beach"—as if Danny hadn't figured that out already—"I want you to come home with me and spend the night."

"Yes. I'm Danny."

The inside of Lawrence's beach house was much like the outside—turquoise being the dominant accent color on stark-white backgrounds—with minimalist furnishings.

Danny found that the lower deck wasn't on the first floor of the house. When they'd walked above the dunes, he saw that there was a lower level. The house was sitting on a concrete half-sunken basement, with one side being a two-car carport. There was a Mercedes two-door sports car in one of the ports. Lawrence took Danny up to the next level, which housed a living room, a dining room and a kitchen—all huge. All minimally, but obviously very expensively, furnished. The living room was overpowered by a huge-screen TV in front of a long, white sofa with turquoise pillow accents.

Lawrence padded around in the navy-blue boxer swim trunks and nothing else. He fixed them massive steaks and a salad and served wine. Danny ate at the kitchen counter and Lawrence ate standing up on the other side of the counter. He was eating Danny up with his eyes, but he didn't make any moves on the young man. Danny was impressed with the dinner but felt slightly chilly—and not because of the temperature. He wanted Lawrence to take him hard on the dining room table. It didn't happen. But that didn't mean that Lawrence treated him badly. He just did more looking than he did talking or action. Other than that, he was being a very good host.

After dinner they watched a football game on the TV in the living room and drank beer. They sat close together on the white sofa, and Lawrence became more demonstrative the more beer he drank, pulling Danny in close to him and embracing him and kissing his mouth and eyelids and nipples and fondling his cock.

Danny was between Lawrence's thighs, sucking his cock off during the third quarter of the game, and Lawrence fucked him on the sofa facing the TV during the fourth quarter.

Danny's chest dug into the arm of the sofa. His arms swung toward the floor over the arm. Lawrence had pushed his head down toward the floor too as he was entering his channel with his cock from behind. Danny cried out as Lawrence's hard cock moved up inside him. Lawrence grabbed Danny's hair on the top of his head and jerked his head up and back. Danny was facing a floor-to-ceiling mirror. He gazed into the mirror, watching his own grimace turn to a look of passion. He could see Lawrence's handsome, mature face above his, a face set in a self-satisfied, wicked grin, the man's brows knit in the exertion of the fuck.

"Daddy, daddy. Do me good," Daddy moaned. Lawrence was so ruggedly handsome. A rock-solid soldier, conquering him.

Lawrence wrapped his arms around Danny and pulled his torso up into his chest. One hand was cupping one of Danny's nipples, holding Danny close to him, while his other hand encased Danny's cock and started to stroke him. Lawrence planted his chin on Danny's shoulder and they were both looking into the mirror, watching the effect of Lawrence's cocking on Danny's face and torso. Danny was grimacing from the movement of the cock inside him and writhing on the imprisoning cock, and Lawrence was giving his wicked smile.

"You love it. Watch yourself in the mirror. You are getting it good."

Danny did. And he was. He threw his arms around Lawrence's neck, turned his face to Lawrence's, and they kissed. And then Danny came, on the arm of the sofa. Lawrence pulled him down onto his back on the sofa, straddled his chest, and came while face fucking Danny.

Then they just lay there, in each other's arms, during the after-game commentary and the late news. Inside, Danny was screaming that he wanted it again. His best fucks were the second or third time. Floyd had done that to him, conditioned him to that. Floyd had never had him just the once. Danny fondled Lawrence's cock as they lay there, trying to get him hot again, but Lawrence wasn't engorging. After the news closed down, Lawrence said, "Let me show you where you can sleep. I want you to stay the night." 




Home to Fire Island Ch. 06



It was the first set of pole dancing Saturday night and both Danny and Diego were on the poles. This was Danny's only set. Sam had said he'd do the Saturday night specials only once a month. He wasn't being solicitous toward Danny on this; he had decided that he'd make more money by having the regular patrons' tongues hanging out for the rarity of a once-a-month fix. Diego would take the second, complete strip down set as well as the last, sex show.

The crowd was loud and rowdy, the room full of smoke, and Danny was slow dancing the pole in a red sequined thong, focusing his attention on the guys muscling each other for position below the stage, the guys leering and talking dirty. He watched for the flash of greenbacks, trying to see the denomination, and whenever he saw a ten or twenty, he'd swing out from the pole close to the edge to let some tongue-wagging guy stuff a bill into his waistband and, if he wanted, to get a quick grope.

Thus it was that he didn't see them come in and find a table near the back of the room until they were settled. There were Kyle and Billy, but there also was Lawrence, the guy from the gray-wood, soaring beach mansion with the turquoise patio furniture. The guy who was married to some woman with a turquoise bathing suit and a light-blue Lexis SUV who had a couple of teenage children—and who had made Danny fantasize about having a home and stability. 

That was unfair, Danny knew. Lawrence hadn't really offered him a home or stability and there was no reason why he couldn't fuck Danny and be married too. Danny knew he'd done the come on, standing out there on the beach outside the guy's house and putting himself on display—on offer. But Danny didn't feel rational now.

It irritated him too to see Lawrence with Kyle and Billy, who had a relationship that Danny envied.

Danny decided to tease Lawrence, to punish him with an exhibition of what he was missing. He stopped just dancing on the pole. He started to make love to it, slow love to the sound of "Bolero" now being spun by the DJ on the audio system. He embraced the pole and ran his hands up and down the pole. He kissed it, making love to it. Making it come alive as an entirely different kind of pole. The crowd noticed the change in his relationship to the pole and they were panting for it.

He straddled the pole with his legs and began rubbing his thighs up and down on the pole. "Somehow" the snaps at the sides of his thong became undone, and a gasp went through the swirl of watchers as the thong dropped to the floor of the stage and Danny started to run the underside of his cock up and down the pole. He used a vision of what he'd done with Lawrence and what he'd seen Kyle do with Billy to harden himself up. He arched his torso out from the pole and slung his head back, so that the crowd could see the ecstasy in his face.

Another gasp and cheers rippled through the crowd as he ejaculated up the pole.

He was beyond the beaded curtain and nearly to the door to his room, when Lawrence caught up with him and spun him around.

"I want you. Where—?"

"What were you going to do when your family arrived yesterday? Lock me in that room in the basement?" Danny answered, angry. Knowing there was no reason why he should be. He was just a fuck boy. Lawrence had no obligations to him.

"They showed up unexpectedly. Cynthia and I are divorcing. But the kids wanted a weekend at the beach. They didn't call that they were coming."

"So, you should be there with them," Danny answered.

"God, that pole dance. I want you in the worst way. What's through this door?"

"Lawrence. No. I don't want . . . this isn't what I wanted from you."

"This is what you're getting from me." Lawrence had his cock out, poking at Danny's belly. He had Danny crowded against the wall, next to the door into his room. Danny wasn't about to let Lawrence know, though, that they could slip into Danny's room. If Lawrence was going to force him, it could be right here where Jose had taken him the first night. Lawrence was no better than Jose. They were both takers.

Lawrence was showing every indication that's exactly how he was going to take Danny. There in the hallway, against the wall.

"I know you want it. Monday afternoon you'll be back on the beach begging for me to give it to you again," Lawrence growled. He was forcing his pelvis between Danny's thighs, lifting Danny off the floor and, with hands under his thighs, spreading them and rolling Danny's butt up to the bulb of his hard, jutting cock.

But then he was being pulled off Danny and spun away, and Danny went down on the hard, wood floor of the dark corridor like a sack of potatoes.

"Get off him, Larry," a rich, baritone voice was demanding. "He said no. Get out of here before the bouncers show up and give you a beating."

It didn't take any longer than that for Lawrence to dissolve. Kyle gently pulled Danny up from the floor. "You OK? He didn't hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine," Danny said. There was a catch in his voice, though, and his eyes looked like those of a wounded calf as Kyle looked down in his face. Kyle's arms had been wrapped around Danny's torso as he lifted him. Now, rather than parting, he was embracing the naked pole dancer even closer. Danny could not hide his arousal—indeed, he had no want to do so.

Danny's face was exhibiting so much want and he was trembling so in Kyle's embrace, that, out of pure instinct, Kyle lowered his face to Danny's and they went into a deep, searching, full-of-mutual need kiss.

"My room is here, just here," Danny whispered when Kyle freed his lips. "No charge. I just need . . . I just need . . ."

Kyle's face was full of embarrassment and concern. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm committed. I'm so sorry."

And then he was gone.

* * * *

Danny agonized through Sunday. He had finally been touched by a man who not only was totally arousing—the daddy Danny now admitted to himself that he was seeking—but who valued commitment. Danny also now realized that this was what he was searching for. Not casual or kinky sex, but a sense of home, stability, commitment. But with great sex too.

Realizing that was what he wanted, though, wasn't bringing it to him. He had brushed against it with Kyle Saturday night, and it had sailed on by him. Danny pouted through much of Sunday, but that night he was castigating himself, telling himself that he wasn't worth a Kyle, that he had no reason to raise his sights and his hopes above the reality that was his life.

And in the night, the need had started to gnaw at him too. He'd told Sam he needed a couple of days to himself. And Sam was respecting that. In the night, Danny listened for the sound of the knob turning and the squeak of his door and Sam covering his body and entering him, giving him relief. But it didn't happen. And sometime in the night, not being able to help himself, Danny began to think of Lawrence. He was a daddy who met many of Danny's wants and needs. He was a one-time fuck and not affectionate, but he was a hunk of a daddy with a capability of reaching Danny's depths with his cock. 

Lawrence hadn't lied to him about having a family. The evidence had been there if Danny had been open to looking for it. And Lawrence said he was getting a divorce. Maybe. Maybe it could work out. It wouldn't be fully satisfying, but it was probably more than Danny deserved. Certainly more than he should except.

But Lawrence had said, with a smirk on his face, that Danny would be back on Monday, standing on the beach outside the house, waiting for Lawrence to come down to him. If he returned, Danny wondered if they would start under the pier again—if he had to build up again to being let back into the house.

But why think of that? Danny agonized. Lawrence had sneered, sure of himself. Danny wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Early in the morning of Monday, Danny finally was able to go to sleep. But even then he tossed and turned.

At 2:00 p.m. on Monday Danny was standing east of the Kismet pier, on the beach, turned away from the water of the bay and toward the soaring gray-wood house with the turquoise patio furniture. He started to move toward the house but stopped in his tracks when he saw them. Lawrence and Billy on the lower deck. Billy lying on his back on a turquoise patio table, and Lawrence standing between his spread thighs. Fucking him hard.

* * * *

Standing on another beach, in Cherry Grove now, his back to the water and staring at another gray-wood beach house with soaring, sail-like rooflines.

Kyle walked slowly, deliberately out onto the beach to meet Danny. He was wearing white boxer swim shorts; nothing else. Danny shivered at the Zeus-like beauty of the man. His deep tan, the patches of curly dark hair swirling around his nipples and moving in a line down his sternum and into the low-slung line of his waistband. A hint of more luxurious curls there. The same curls on his forearms and his legs. A lock of hair drooping down on his forehead. Sad eyes.

Danny didn't realize until now how arousing a hirsute man was to him. A mature man. A man who had kept his body in great shape.

"You know where I live," Kyle said when he reached Danny.

"Yes, I've been here before. I've seen you and Billy . . . on the deck."

"Billy's left me."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yes, I've seen him with Lawrence. At Lawrence's house in Kismet."

"I designed Lawrence's beach house. His wife, Cynthia, is my cousin."

"She likes turquoise."

"I know," Kyle said. He laughed then, relaxing a bit. "I couldn't convince her to tone it down."

"Lawrence told me they were getting a divorce."

"First I heard. She's the one with the money. I can't see Lawrence giving that up."

"Billy couldn't make a commitment to you?"

"No he couldn't—or at least he wouldn't. He said he did, but then I'd catch him giving it out to some young stud. I'm too old for him. I couldn't see beyond the lies. My loss, but I think he and Lawrence make a good pair. I've been worried for some time it would come to that."

"I don't think it's your loss, and you're not too old. You're a hunk. You showed me how important commitment is. You helped me realize how important it is to me too. Home. Stability. Commitment. Just one lover."

"Just one?"

"Yes, just one. One lover to hold me and to give me stability. To love me so I'll be too well loved to take on anyone else. A sexy, mature man."

"May I kiss you again?" Kyle asked.

"Yes, please, I ache for it."

Kyle pulled Danny into his chest and they engaged in a kiss, longer, even more sweet than the one in Sam's Bar. Afterward Danny, shorter than Kyle, went back down off his tiptoes and buried his face in Kyle's chest hair. Kissing and tonguing, finding his taut nipples.

"Will you come up to the house with me?" Kyle's voice was hoarse, needy. "What I mean is will you come into my bed?"

* * * *

They lay stretched out, embracing, on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom.

"I don't know if it's wise," Kyle murmured, holding back, having second thoughts. "I don't know if I can do this again. Billy wasn't the first. None of them worked out. Fire Island is just too open, too hedonist. Maybe if we had met elsewhere."

"Is it because you saw me at Sam's Bar?"

"No. Yes, maybe a little. Oh, I don't know. Maybe we just shouldn't start into . . ."

"That wasn't me. I was only there three weeks. I came to the island searching for something. Here, now, with you, I have found it."

"It's easy to say that now, but—"

"A sign of commitment? Is that what you need?" Danny asked, lifting his torso off of Kyle's and looking down into his eyes.

Kyle didn't answer. But in not answering, he was giving an answer.

"I have nothing in life. Just a duffle bag with a few clothes in it. And a dirty book about Fire Island that I suspect you don't need to read. This is the only thing of value to me," Danny said. His hand was clutching the dog tags dangling down and nestling in the matted hair between Kyle's pecs.

"So," he continued, "The best I can give you as a token of commitment are these. They're all I have of my dad. It's all of him that came back from Iraq. I need a daddy, Kyle. A strong daddy. A daddy who will take me to heaven and ride me on the clouds—forever. This is my commitment to a man who will do that for me. I am not Billy." Danny took the chain off his neck. Kyle, his eyes, full of tears, lifted his head off the pillow to permit Danny to put the chain around his neck. He reached up and took the dog tags in his hand, brought them to his lips, and kissed them.

Danny began working his lips and hands down the line of Kyle's body, as the man shuddered under his touch and groaned his pleasure. His hard cock was thick and long. Danny could hardly get his lips around it, but he managed, and Kyle moaned for him. Danny's mouth moved down to Kyle's balls and he took the ball sack into his mouth and rolled the balls around with his tongue.

One. Two . . . three. Three? Danny slurped the sack out and looked up the line of Kyle's now-heaving body. Kyle smiled down at him.

"You said something about riding the clouds forever. I hope you're up to it. I don't know if having more than two makes a difference, but . . ."

"Show me."

Danny was laying on his back at the edge of the bed, Kyle holding his legs out, clasping Danny's ankles. Kyle had said he wanted to watch Danny's face the first time he took him. Danny was arching his back and moaning as Kyle slowly entered him, just to where his bulb rubbed across Danny's prostate, relentlessly working the spot until, with a jerk and a lurch, Danny ejaculated. Kyle moved deeper inside him them, fucking in earnest. Danny cried out in passion, clutching at the hair on Kyle's chest, digging for the nipples. Kyle lowered his torso on Danny's and they kissed. Danny's hands went around to Kyle's shoulder blades, hanging onto the hair there too, as Kyle pumped him hard to a second coming. Kyle kept on pumping to a climax of his own.

Danny was panting, whispering how good it had been—and meaning it—as Kyle pulled out of him and slipped the spent condom off his cock. The younger man moaned as he watched the older stud roll another one on, his cock still hard.

"A bull. You're a bull."

"You need me to stop?"

"Oh, shit no. But you're a bull. No man . . ."

"All of those men at Sam's, and none of them—?"

"Not anywhere close. It's you. Fuck me again, Daddy."

Kyle grabbed Danny's waist with his hands; turned him, belly down on the bed; and moved up onto the bed on his knees. He pulled Danny's inert, fully satisfied body up the bed to where he was fully on it, grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under Danny's belly, which raised Danny's buttocks. Straddling Danny's hips with his knees, Kyle was inside him again. Pumping again. Danny moaned. He was on those clouds. After an eternity, Kyle was jerking and puffing out an exclamation of satisfaction, filling out the bulb of his condom once more.

The older man lowered his chest on Danny's back and Danny turned his head so that they could kiss.

"Exhausted? You need to rest?"

"No. No, please. Fuck me to heaven."

Kyle laughed. He went up on his knees again, ran one hand under Danny to his belly, and pulled him farther up onto his knees. The other hand snaked under Danny and encased his cock. Danny came again after several minutes with a jerk and a low moan. Kyle let him fall back to the bed, grabbed his wrists and pulled Danny's torso off the bed and up toward him, and started to rock Danny's body on his buried cock. Kyle ejaculated again but only pulled out of Danny's channel long enough to change condoms and then he brought Danny up to his hands and knees and started fucking him doggie style.

Danny's rocks were aching—empty but challenged to flow again—and his knees were shaking and grew weak enough that he collapsed on the bed. Kyle rode down with him. With a laugh Kyle turned his body half circle on Danny's, grabbed Danny's ankles, and, stretching his own body out in an arc, fucked down into Danny at a reverse angle. Danny had never had this done to him before. He never even knew it could be done. The different angle of the thrusting and pulsating cock inside him was punishing entirely new surfaces of his channel. Danny moaned deeply, aroused, but too drained to harden up. Somehow this didn't matter, though. It made him ride the clouds of pleasure in an entirely different dimension. Kyle, still hard as a rock, just kept on fucking to another climax.

This time he stretched along Danny's body, pulling the fully exhausted, more than satiated body into his. He kissed Danny in the hollow of his neck and then on the lips when Danny turned his face to him.

"Have I used you up? Can't take any more of me?" Kyle whispered.

"Never enough," Danny whispered back. "I can't . . . and if you can't . . . but never enough of you."

"What I wanted to hear," Kyle murmured. And then, while he was adjusting, changing condoms again, "You are so sweet. It's like I'm taking a virgin each time. Your tight channel—even after all those men. But just right. Taking all of those has made you ready for me, able to take me at long stretches. Billy never fully satisfied my need. But you, innocent and tough at the same time. You send me over the sun each time."

"Oh, god. Oh, shit, oh, yesss," Danny cried out. Kyle, behind him, was lifting his upper leg and working his thick, hard cock into Danny's hole again in a side split. Kyle tightened a hand on his belly, and, huffing, Danny wrapped an arm around the back of Kyle's neck and moaned for the taking.

"Here we go again! Deeper! Yes!"

Later, both panting heavily, cooling down, Kyle still fully embracing Danny.

"You can sleep here, with me, of course. But you'll have a room of your own. You can set it up anyway you like. It can be private. You don't have to let me in. We'll have a lock—"

"Can you fuck me there too? Late at night? Wake me up fucking me?"

"If you want. That would suit me. My balls ache when I don't get it a couple of times a day."

Danny moaned. But it was a good moan.

"And an allowance. You can have money of your own. No need to work at Sam's or anywhere else. I'll go back with you to get your—"

"There's nothing there I want. Everything I want, need, is right here." The dog tags were brushing against Danny's cheek, but that isn't what he meant either.

"Kyle?"

"Yes?"

"I can't believe Billy gave this up." But he was only saying that to assuage Kyle's ego. He very much could see Billy giving up relentless fucking in exchange for Lawrence's one shots, as long as Billy got the same number of toys from each. That was Billy, though, not Danny. But, thinking of that beach at Kismet, Danny had another thought. "Do you have a sailboat?"

"I own a marina. Of course I have a sailboat. You can learn how to run the marina. And we'll get you registered at the junior college here. I'll take good care of you."

"Can you take me out on the water sometime? Fuck me on the sailboat?"

"Wherever you want. Whenever you want. Right now again, unless you tell me to stop."

Danny pulled Kyle over on top of him, kissing him all over his face, licking his chest hair and nipping at his nipples, while Kyle fumbled around changing his condom once more.

Then it was Kyle kneeling between Danny's thighs, knees under Danny's buttocks, and Kyle running his hands up and down Danny's legs stretched up Kyle's chest. Fucking him hard and deep again. Their eyes locked in a dance of lust, of love.

Danny riding the clouds. Forever.

- Fini -