After getting settled into his own house, Anthony settled into what he later referred to as his "time of decadent luxury."
By the time he'd moved in, he had cultivated a circle of sexual partners with whom he could explore the kinds of pleasures that men could experience together. There was Michael, of course, and David from the hotel. At Anthony's urging, David's roommate and occasional lover had joined them in a threesome. After that, he was a regular partner in trysts that usually included David. Greg found that being able to fuck at Anthony's house was somewhat liberating.
There was Brett, the realtor. One of Michael's acquaintances among the men he met, and fucked, at orgies, and the bar manager at the tennis club.
With all that, and an orgy about once a month, it was a rare day or night that he wasn't able to enjoy an orgasmic embrace with another man. Or men.
That didn't stop him from exploring, to a degree. One day he decided to take a stroll along the beach where it had been alluded that random, anonymous sex could be enjoyed.
Barefoot, wearing a bright red bikini swim trunks, Anthony laid out a beach blanket near one of the thickets of brush that provided shade. And shelter for illicit encounters.
After a while, a man sauntered along. Similarly dressed to Anthony, he wore his blond hair longish. His body was deeply tanned. Anthony figured him to be close to 35.
Wordlessly, he laid his own towel next to Anthony's. Twenty minutes passed as they enjoyed the warm sun. In time, the man said "I'm Jeremy."
"Hi. I'm Anthony."
Jeremy leaned close and said "Would you like to fuck me? I'd like you to fuck me."
Anthony rolled to his side and propped up on an elbow. "Where?"
Jeremy nodded towards the trees. "Right up in there. It's my favorite spot. This is where I like to come to get fucked. C'mon." He led the way.
There was a perfect little space just two steps into the thicket. Sun-dappled, there was enough cover that two men kneeling in the sand could only be seen by someone walking only a few feet away.
Jeremy knelt and beckoned Anthony to come close. He pulled a small tube of lubricant from the waistband of his swimsuit and pulled Anthony's trunks down, revealing his rapidly stiffening member. After a momentary suckle, Jeremy applied a healthy quantity of lube before turning away. Still kneeling, he pulled his trunks down to the top of his thighs, exposing his hole.
Anthony dropped to his knees and pressed his cock to the offered prize. He gently pressed, and Jeremy's flesh opened and accepted him. He paused with just the head of his cock ensheathed by the man's warmth. "All the way!" Jeremy hissed. And Anthony slid balls deep in one gentle thrust.
They came quickly. As their orgasms faded, Jeremy gently slipped from his impalement, turned and said "Thanks." and was gone.
It was Anthony's sole visit to the beach, other than a couple of times he and Michael went together, and enjoyed a more fulfilling lovemaking session in the same alcove of trees.
He couldn't deny that there was a particular thrill to an anonymous fuck on the beach. It just lacked the things he had come to expect with sex. Whether it was the intensity of a lengthy session of man-on-man eroticism, with long bouts of fingering and sucking and stroking; where each orgasm was merely a prelude to another. Or whether it was the thrill of multiple partners, where hands and lips and tongues caressed his body, while his cock throbbed inside a mouth or an anus, or a cock throbbed inside of him, or all of the above, and other men watched with lust burning in their eyes and hearts and loins.
Quick, anonymous sex on the beach offered none of that.
On the other hand, the tennis club had something else to offer. He had met the manager when he signed up, then met again at an orgy.
The tennis club attracted a lot of northern visitors. Many of them were men both successful and athletic. And some of them were looking for another kind of excitement while they visited Key West, unattached. The club manager made sure they were paired up, on the court, with the right regular members.
Anthony played twice a week, along with regular tournament play. He was highly regarded as a strong competitor. He was also a very companionable one, gracious in both victory and defeat.
Larry was a home builder from North Carolina. On Tuesday, he defeated Anthony in three sets. The next day they had a rematch, which Anthony just barely won. It was a match played in the sultry heat of early April afternoon.
By the time the match ended, both men were drenched in sweat. "Listen," Anthony said as they headed for the locker room "why don't we have a beer at my place? You can shower up there if you'd like."
Larry said he was up for that, and Anthony gave him the address. "Give me a five minute head start. Park in the drive, behind my 'Vette. The door'll be unlocked"
The five minutes gave Anthony enough time to give himself a quick enema. He also shot a thick dollop of lube into his love hole. He didn't shower.
When Larry walked in, Anthony was standing in his bedroom doorway. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, legs crossed at the ankles. Naked. And rock hard. "Like what you see?"
Larry didn't answer. He walked straight up to Anthony, stopped a foot away, and unbuttoned his tennis shorts. When his own hard cock sprung free he said "You've been wanting to fuck with me since about a minute after we hit the court.
Anthony wrapped his hand around Larry's cock. Larry took Anthony's in his. Almost instinctively he began to slowly jack it. Anthony said "Not really. What I've wanted since about a minute after we hit the court is for you to fuck me."
"That's good. Because I want to fuck you."
They moved closer and kissed, tongues intertwined as they pressed their cocks together. Anthony led them to the bed, flopped on his back and drew his legs back. He reached around his legs and spread his cheeks. "This is what you want. Come and get it. I'm all lubed up."
