When I was in my 20s, I would go to the nude beach after hanging out in the clubs all night. I liked to get naked, fall asleep on the empty beach, and check out the nude bodies when I woke up. In the back of my mind I thought some woman would wake me while I was sleeping, unable to resist the sight of my nine inches and model body and engage in a crazy sexcapade. Boy, was I wrong. Day after day, it was guys who came to my towel, member in hand to talk about working out, the weather, and the 'action' in the dunes. I wasn't interested at all. But I was not going to give up on my beach fantasy.
One morning after a night of partying, I walked toward the entrance of the beach and passed a guy taking his stuff from his trunk. 'Hey, could ya give me a hand?' he asked. He had the demeanor of a neighbor whose name you forget every time you see him. Exhausted, I helped him and started to continue to the beach. 'You headin' left on the beach?' he asked.
'Yeah. You?' I asked for no other reason than impulsive politeness.
'Yeah. I get to take a few hours in the morning for myself before I go home to the wife and kids.'
'Wife and kids?' I thought; he must be straight. With that, my defenses were down and we continued toward the nude beach talking baseball.
We got to my favorite spot. I put down my stuff and started to set up. The guy put down his stuff but kept talking. I got the feeling that he wanted to see me naked and was waiting for me to take off my clothes. I took off my shirt and spread out my blanket. He kept talking, but paused to take off his shirt. 'You work out, huh?' he asked as he grabbed his own arms.
'Gotta look good for the ladies,' I replied in an attempt to assert my heterosexuality. I felt defensive. I thought he was coming on to me, but he said he was married so I thought I was mistaken.
Once my area was set, I was ready to drop my shorts, get naked and take a nap on the deserted beach. But I felt funny about it because I was starting to get hard. Whether he was straight or gay didn't matter: I thought he was going to get the wrong idea. When I looked down, I realized it didn't matter whether I took off my shorts or not. It was clear that I was hard.
I dropped my shorts and tried to sit down in my chair as quickly as possible. 'Wow!' he said. 'You're huge.' He took off his shorts and his rod, right at my eye level, stood at attention in my face. 'Listen,' he said. 'I'm not gay. I have a wife and kids. Let me touch your cock.' With that, he got on his knees and grabbed it.
I was numb. It was weird to feel a guy's hands on my shaft. I liked it. It was definitely different and I did not have the repulsed reaction I thought I would have. He stroked me like a man, with the strength and rhythm of a guy who had beat off for more years than I was alive. It felt amazing and I did not resist. In fact, I saw he was hard and grabbed him. I stroked him and he reacted by giving more room for my arm to make him cum. The feeling was overwhelming and I came all over his hand and my chest. He took my cum and rubbed it on him and jerked until he came ...reality hit-I just got jerked off by a guy. I think reality hit him as well. He grabbed his stuff without saying a word and walked away.
Since that time, I have imagined the feeling of another man in my hand and another man's hand around my shaft, but I don't think the experience of that summer morning could ever be recreated. I do, however, enjoy a good spank replaying the experience in my mind.