Malteaser

He took a swig of water and I did the same.

Then he said, "I saw your cock on the beach."

I laughed. "Yeah?"

He laughed back: "Yeah." We were both feeling really awkward with this.

I was going to ask him if he'd like what he'd seen, but he cut in with: "You want to see mine?"

I smiled. This was like being fourteen again.

I said, "Yeah."

He untied the cord in the waistband his swimming shorts and then pulled them down around the tops of his thighs.

His cock, limp but very thick and large, flopped out. It was a little paler than the rest of his skin; the colour of milky coffee. A small part of the head of it, little more than the tip and the slit, was peering out from his slightly-retracted foreskin. His pubes were unclipped and bushy around it and his balls were loose and hung low, like two conkers in a sock.

He looked up at me, assessing my reaction.

I smiled and said, "Nice."

He just stood there, showing me his cock with his shorts around his thighs, clearly unsure of what to do now.

I said, "Do you want to see mine again?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

I hitched my tee-shirt up a little and hitched down my trunks. My cock was now semi-hard and was rising upwards from my balls, as if straining to get a look at its Maltese equivalent.

He looked at it and I noticed his own cock starting to slowly lengthen.

I wondered if this was his first time with another guy; he seemed very uncertain about what to do. He made no attempt to come over towards me and I wasn't sure how he'd respond if I walked over to him. So we just stared at each other's cocks, watching them slowly stiffening.

At length he said, "Does your wife know why you came up here?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I imagine so."

"Is she happy that you do this?"

"We've never talked about it. She seems to accept it, but I don't think she's exactly happy with it."

He nodded.

My cock was now well on the way to being fully erect. I wanted to masturbate it but I wasn't sure if that might – as the first overtly sexual gesture between us – freak him out.

I asked him if his wife or girlfriend knew why we'd come up here.

He shook his head. "This doesn't happen here. It's against our culture, our religion…"

I nodded. "Have you done it before?"

He shrugged. "A little. But not a lot. It's just that sometimes I… like it. You know?"

I smiled. "I know exactly!"

He walked over to me and asked if he could touch my cock. I nodded and he gently worked his fingers around it, easing the foreskin down the pale shaft of it and caressing the head of it with his thumb.

I took the opportunity to touch his, coaxing the thick stem of it to full hardness by gently squeezing and wanking it, while at the same time kneading his balls and pushing a finger into the hot hairy crack between the tops of his thighs.

I asked him, when his cock was throbbing upright at its full seven or eight inches in my palm, "What do you like to do?"

He seemed unsure. "I… I don't know…"

He was really aroused by this, but clearly on very uncertain ground.

I said, "Would you like me to make some suggestions?"

He nodded, his deep coffee-coloured eyes staring into mine.

I smiled. "I'd like to suck your cock. Then I'd like to lick your arsehole. Then I'd like to fuck you."

I felt his cock throb in my hand at the prospect.

He said, "I don't know about the last one. Does it hurt?"

"I'll be really gentle. You'll love it!"

He considered. "You know… I'd quite like to fuck you…"

This was the problem with coupling up with straight men: they always wanted to be the one doing the fucking; they never wanted to receive.

My cock really needed to have an arsehole gripping it; I'd gone nearly two weeks without it tasting the thick, pungeant stench of another guy's innards.

I lied, "In Britain, the guy who licks the other guy's arse gets to fuck him. That's how it goes. Are you okay about doing that to me?"

I was gambling that his inexperienced manner was genuine and not just an act, and my gamble paid off. He looked as disgusted as most newcomers to gay sex look when faced with the prospect of rimming another man.

"No – I won't… I can't do that to you. Sorry."

I smiled. "That's okay. So you'll let me fuck you?"

He nodded. "Okay. As long as you take it slowly… and you'll stop if I tell you to…"

I agreed readily. I was going to really enjoy this!

I dropped to my knees and began sucking at his cock which had softened a little at the prospect of rimming me. It rapidly swelled back to full size and he began fucking my mouth with it, gripping my head and groaning gently.

His cock smelled strongly of pubic sweat – inevitable, I suppose, in the heat – and its head tasted sharp and acrid as I retracted his foreskin with my lips. The smell and taste of him – so raw and masculine – really aroused me after having to make do with only Melissa's feminine versions during the preceding fortnight.

He began oozing thick gobs of precum into my mouth as I wanked his shaft with my lips and caressed his bell-end with my tongue. It tasted salty and made my mouth water.

I gripped his arse and pushed my fingers into the hot hairy moistness of his cleft. His buttocks felt firm and round; it was going to be so good to watch them eating my cock.

He kept fucking my face and his balls thwacked against my chin with every thrust of his hips. He was loving it; groaning and grunting and gripping my head like he thought I might try to escape.

I groped down inside his arse crack and found his hole. It was tightly clenched but wet and slimy: my cock would easily slide into it.

I withdrew from his cock and pushed my face into his hairy balls. He grabbed his cock and began to wank himself, enjoying me taking his balls into my mouth in turn and tasting the cloying sweatiness of his scrotum.

I muttered, my mouth planted on the ridge beneath his balls, "Squat down."

He yanked his shorts further down until they were around his ankles and then squatted down. This was my favourite part, bar the fucking: exploring the fascinating pathway between the base of a guy's balls and his arsehole. You never knew what smells, tastes and textures you were going to encounter.

In this guy's case – I never found out his name – the smell was powerful and the taste was bitter. I licked excitedly at the hairy ridge leading towards his anus, enjoying the intensifying aroma of him as I homed in on my target.

Then, reaching his small puckered ring, I pushed my tongue up into it, feeling it dilate to urge me inside. The taste here was intense – so crude and carnal – as I probed his most intimate spot with my eager, hungry tongue. This guy's arse was as hot as hell: this was going to be a fuck to remember!

He squatted lower and opened his legs wider to try and take my tongue more deeply into him. I strained to push it as far into him as I could, my lips clamped tightly onto the sides of his arse cleft, and revelling in the seedy taste of him.

Just then his hips began bucking and his rectum began squeezing my tongue in short bursts.

Jesus, he was cumming! And I hadn't got to fuck him yet!

I pulled out of him, hoping desperately I might be in time to stop him on the brink of his orgasm but knowing full well that he was too far gone.

He was wanking his cock frantically, clearly having been overwhelmed by the sensation of me rimming him, and it was spewing strings of white semen across the sand in front of us.

I stood up, my erection straining painfully, and said, urgently, "I really need to fuck you."

He stepped away from me, still cumming and breathless. "You can't now."

"I really need to. Just for a few seconds."

He shook his head, milking the last few gobs of semen from his cock. "I'm sorry."

"Just let me put it inside you then."

He pulled up his swimming shorts and tucked his cock inside them. "No. We have to go now."

I was angry with myself for rimming him so assiduously that he'd climaxed. I should have known that he'd enjoy it so much since it seemed to be his first time. A couple of quick licks would have done; then I could have replaced my tongue with my cock.

He finished tying the cord in his shorts and said that we should go to the top of the hill to look over the cliff because "the girls will be watching".

I nodded, tucking my own painfully hard cock back into my trunks.

I kept looking at his arse inside his shorts as I followed him up the hillside, longing to climb onto his back and slide myself into him. I was imagining the light brown colour of his buttocks framing the paleness of my cock.

When we got up to the top and we looked over the cliff to what he informed me was Gnejina Bay, he glanced at the front of my trunks, with my cock still quite obviously hard inside them, and said, smiling, "You'll enjoy yourself with your wife, later."

I muttered, "I suppose I'll have to," and then we began the descent back to the beach.

Melissa was glaring at me with the same disapproving scowl when we got back to her as she had been when we'd left.

She saw my cock, still waiting excitedly for an arse that it hadn't yet realised wasn't going to be forthcoming, straining in my trunks as I pulled on my shorts and said, "The walk wasn't everything you'd hoped for, then?"

"I guess not."

She sneered at me and got on with rubbing after-sun lotion onto Beth.

A short while later, as the couple next to us were packing up and the guy was doing everything to avoid looking at me, she said, "I could just eat a Malteaser. You haven't come across any, have you?"

I glared at her.