There used to be a fairly large beach near my house. It was quite popular and was known for the large gay population that frequented it. There were many things to do at the beach, but my favorite, naturally, was people watching in the big locker room that was perched right at the edge of the sand. I particularly favored the handicapped stall for the sole reason that there was a small hole in the wall between the handicapped stall and the stall on the other side. When perched just so on the seat in the handicapped stall I realized it gave the perfect view of the crotch of anyone who might enter the other stall and remove their swimwear.

It was in that handicapped stall I found myself one particular day in the middle of June when someone walked into the other stall. Unseen, I gripped my penis and prepared for the big reveal. He stopped in front of the hole and I realized it was a lifeguard in his tight red speedo.

I leaned in so I could see his crotch clearly through the hole. He pulled down the front of his speedo and released his member. He hesitated and his fingers began to trace along the underside of his shaft. He began to grow hard.

I gasped. Could he be…? Here? Now? This was one of my greatest fantasies come to life. I gripped my own shaft and stared transfixed as his grew to a full eight inches. He began to work up and down along his member, his fingers dancing, chest heaving. I couldn’t help myself–I let out a small moan. The tiniest of noises and yet…

He stopped. Instantly. There was a moment of tension–it las test maybe half a second–but for me it felt like years. And then he was at it again, working quickly–furiously–and I followed his lead. I got so caught up in my own pleasure that I didn’t notice when he stopped. Only that I when I looked back through the hole there was a big brown eye meeting my gaze.

I jumped. And scrambled, trying to cover myself, trying to regain my dignity. But it was too late. The eye looked straight into mine, then jerked down at the penis I, petrified, was barely concealing behind scrawny arms, then back at my face, tracing along the bottom of my jaw line. With a sigh the eye was gone. His stall door banged open and in a moment so did mine.

There he stood in the doorway, a towering testament of manliness with a square jaw, gently tanned skin, and a perfectly-chiseled body. A crooked red speedo barely concealed an impressive tan line and a seven-inch fully-erect cock.

I was so dead.

There I sat, cowering, sporting a swim suit at my ankles and a penis that refused to surrender.

He cocked a half smirk and brushed a wave of hair out of his eyes. “Punk.” He said. “Look at you–pathetic–think you can just spy on me and get away without getting attention?” I wanted to melt into the wall behind me. “I’ll show you some attention–get up!”

I stood–it was my only option–and immediately tripped on the swimsuit still wrapped around my ankles. He caught me and for one glorious second I was pressed against his bulging pectorals. He lifted me up just enough so he could reach down and rip the swimsuit off my ankles. And I mean he literally ripped it off and threw the useless pile of rags into the toilet behind me.

He set me down again and held my arms against the wall. He pressed his toned body up against mine and suddenly I was overwhelmed with the scent of sea salt and sunscreen. He opened his mouth to speak and then I took the biggest risk of my life.

I kissed him. Right on the lips. He seemed stunned for a moment and then quickly warmed up to the kiss, contributing far more with his tongue than I would have expected. He released my arms and began to caress my body with his large hands. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled my body into his, grinding my dick into his crotch.

When we finally broke the kiss to come gasping up for air, his demeanor had changed. He smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. “This is going to be fun,” he said.

He led me out into the center of the locker room where there were two rows of lockers and one long bench that ran down the middle. He had me lay on the bench and then opened one of the lockers. He slowly sifted through its contents and pulled out deodorant, tweezers, a comb, hair gel, a pack of condoms and one gigantic bottle of lube. He laid these out on the table in a row and went through them one at a time.

“So… what’s your name?” He asked, applying the deodorant to his armpits.

“Seth,” I said, trying not to sound impatient.

He picked up the tweezers and began to pluck his eyebrows. This was starting to get a little weird. I’d had a lot of random hook ups with gay men before this and had seen many strange habits yet this… this was new to me. “That’s a sweet name,” he said. “I go by Duke.”

“Duke…” I tasted the name, trying it out. A little unusual, but I could work with it.

He smiled at me and grabbed the hair gel. He kept making small talk in a futile effort to fill the empty silence that choked the locker room. “You know why they call me Duke? I’m named after a surfer–the original Big Kahuna. Actually, they used to call me “The Big Kahuna,” but that started to get too long–too overused anyway. Know why they’d give me a name like that?” My eyes wandered down to the bulge in his swimsuit. “Cheeseburgers. I really love cheeseburgers… and Tarantino…”

By this time several other men had passed by and though some gave us strange looks they all passed by with no more than a slight nod from Duke.

Finally, when his hair was perfect, he turned, reached for the condoms, hesitated, and laid his hand on my shoulder.

“Sit up straight.” He commanded. I obeyed and he took off his speedo to reveal his entire hairless body and one gloriously tight snow-white butt. He moved like he was going to have me suck his dick, then stopped. He towered above me and with one hand caressing my cheek. His mouthwatering cock hovered mere inches from my face, but I stared up into his beautiful brown eyes.

“You’re really cute,” he said, “you know that?”

“I… Y-you’re…” I stammered. He laughed gently and pulled at my lips with his thumb. I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to have his cock.

I brushed his hand away from my face and pulled his hips toward me. He let out a soft moan as my lips caressed the tip of of his cut penis. I began to work my tongue around the bottom and he ran his hands through my hair, holding on to the back of my head to steady himself. He drove his penis deeper and deeper into my throat and somehow I swallowed it all.

He let me work his cock for a few more minutes and then gave me a turn. He kneeled on the floor and looked up at me with intense eyes. He gently caressed my balls with fluttering hands and began to trace the base of the shaft. I stepped forward and forced my tip between his pleading lips. He nibbled softly on the end and then made his way down, licking and slurping like an ice cream cone.

As he worked his magic, I looked around the room at all the men who had gathered at the ends of the locker bay. They no longer seemed intimidated by two full grown men going at it, but instead stood and gawked. A few already had their dicks out, stroking slowly–a hungry look in their eyes. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as waves of ecstasy washed over me. This was going to be quite the show.

When he felt that my penis had been sufficiently stimulated, he got back on his feet. He pulled me tight against his chest and tipped my chin up with his forefinger. He kissed me gently, tenderly, and for a moment we were the only two men in the world–just two bodies locked in a passionate embrace–our audience forgotten.

After a moment, he released his grip on me, cocked his head to the side, and smiled a cheeky grin. “Let’s do this,” he said, pushing me back on the bench with the palm of his hand. I laid there, my back pressed into the thin towel that covered the bench while he sorted through the lube and condoms.

He held me tightly while he penetrated my asshole with a well-lubed finger. Then two fingers. Three. I moaned and squirmed, but he only tightened his grip, planted a small kiss on my forehead. He laid me back on the bench and prepared to enter me.

“Go slow,” I said, “I’m not sure how much I can take.”

He laughed. “You can handle it.”

He got on top of me in the missionary position. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my nose in his shoulder. His thick member slid in easily and then back out. I shuddered with pleasure. He thrust again, increasing his speed. Suddenly I was being pounded with all the force of a hurricane. I screamed and held on for dear life. I wasn’t so much worried about how much I could take, but how much the bench could take as the thin board bent and creaked under the force. Then he found my G spot and suddenly I wasn’t worried about anything–just overwhelmed by sheer ecstasy.

He pounded me for twenty minutes, maybe more and then returned to slow, long strokes. We were both panting heavily and his abs constricted and relaxed in great sweaty waves. Our stomachs were both coated with a sticky, warm substance and I realized it was my own cum. Duke pulled out and added his own load to my chest. We both just sat there, breathing and staring into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. Then Duke smirked and dragged his finger through the sticky mess on my stomach. He held it in front of my mouth and I lapped it up eagerly.

He laughed. “Damn, twinky–you’re hardcore,” he said. Then he grabbed his towel and disappeared into the showers.

I stayed where I was and tried to catch my breath. It was then that I realized I wasn’t done yet. Duke was no longer here to intimidate the horde of men who had watched us fuck. They moved in, surrounding me like a pack of wild dogs. They poked their eager pricks in my face and I decided I had a few more in me. I grabbed the closest one and started sucking.

For the next hour or so I had every orifice stuffed with cock and then drenched in cum. I had a few more of my own orgasms and by the time every man had been satisfied at least once I was a hot sticky mess.

The last of the men dribbled his load down my cheek and then walked off. I was alone–Duke had slipped out of the showers and left without me noticing and I was just an abused pile of skin, bones, and semen laying defeated on the floor. I peeled myself up and limped over to the showers. As cum dripped off my body and ran down the drain I smiled to myself. I pictured Duke’s face in my mind. His gorgeous brown eyes, his cocky smile, perfect hair. My penis hardened and despite myself I jacked off one last time into the drain.

After my shower I was searching for an abandoned swimsuit, towel–anything to protect my dignity on the walk home when I noticed a piece of paper tucked behind the mirror. I plucked it out.

“Duke,” it said, and then there was a hastily scribbled phone number followed by a heart. I smiled to myself–what a sap.

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