This story is entirely fiction—no superstar was compromised writing it. The story has a copyright and can not be used without written consent.
My special thanks to "Isle of Joy" for his superb editing of my story.
*
Synopsis: Zack McGraw had been a hot prospect—golden boy for San Diego/Blazers. An injury forced management to rethink his contract—it was their decision Zack was to be traded down to the El Paso/Rumble; he was lucky to be picked up by any team, even the minors.
Zack's right arm had put him on the sideline for a year and a half, any sympathy his comrades once had for him had long ago vanished. Truth be told Zack was never liked by his teammates; he was from a small town in Mississippi, a fact that seem to grate on the nerves of the San Diego team. He was always on the defense; they seemed to enjoy needling him at every chance. Consequently he was a loner, except for Beverly, his wife, he had no friends and his heavy drinking was seriously damaging that relationship.
The prospects of a reduced lifestyle from Zack's trade down had Beverly burning the midnight oil thinking of suitable career for him after baseball. Zack failed to grasp the changes the new contract would bring; he left all that for Bev to manage. After much thought she concluded the single plus the twenty-three year old jock had going for him was his looks—he was drop dead gorgeous.
Memorial Day weekend was coming up and Beverly had finally persuaded Zack to take a little vacation, to the beach area west of Tijuana. He had refused to go to any beaches near San Diego and run the risk of being recognized; an incident that happened last year was still fresh in his memory—he had been strongly criticized by a drunken and disgruntled fan.
Beverly drove the whole way to Mexico, and Zack drank steady the entire trip. She didn't very much as she was determined not let him pick a fight, his usual plan of action when confronted with something he didn't want to do.
They parked the car and walked the short distance to the beach. As soon as they reached the sand they were confronted by a large sign that said NO GLASS OR CANS ON THE BEACH. Zack threw down his chest of beer and looked at Bev as if it had been some diabolical plot hatched out by her just to make him as miserable as possible—setting in the sun without beer was unthinkable.
Zack ask a vendor selling watermelon slices where he could find a beer stand. The vendor chuckled and pointed down the beach. Zack thanked him and purchased two slices of watermelon. By now Bev was seething, the slice of melon just added to the burden she was already carrying; she followed a few feet behind Zack mumbling her displeasure.
Bev was aware of the lustful attention Zack was generating as they strolled down the beach. She understood Spanish and people were talking about his good looks.
Typically he was oblivious to the commotion he was stirring up; before marriage they had been high school sweet hearts so Bev had a long history of jealousy. Secretly she enjoyed their isolation; although Zack had never been unfaithful Bev didn't want any temptation around. She studied him as she followed; he was the palest man on the beach and his muscles and flaming red hair seemed to dance in the bright sun light as he walked.
After walking for almost a mile they saw a palmetto thatched roof in the distance; a crowd of rough looking surfers surrounded the open bar. The surfers watched the couple intently as they spread their blanket on the white sand. Zack was so happy beer was back in the equation, he smiled as he jogged toward the open bar, the prospects of a cool beer sent happy feelings charging though his body.
The bartender had two draft beers waiting as Zack approached. "Here ya go my big gringo friend two suds! Ice cold just the way you like 'em." He smiled at Zack and pushed the tall paper cups to the flame haired hunk.
Zack fumbled around in his fanny pack and retrieved his wallet. "What's the damage my friend?"
"Put ya yanqui dollars away! First few brews are on the house." The other patrons had surround Zack and were chanting for him to chugalug the beers. Zack was downing the second beer as two fresh drafts were pushed in front of him. The crowd all laughed and hands slapped Zack on the back, a few landed on his butt.
Zack's stride was a little wobblier on the return trip to the blanket. The surfers watched the big jock's ass juggle as he carried the beers; they moaned and made cat calls loud enough for Bev to respond with a glare of disapproval.
Juan, the bartender, watched the couple stretch out on the blanket. "Man that stud just downed a double dose of Viagra and Ecstasy! He's going to be ready to party-party soon." He groped his rock hard cock as he though about getting in big redhead's pants.
Bev was the first to notice the bulge in Zack's swim trunks. "What's gotten in to you? It's just not decent and you better stop it this minute!"
She began to rethink the wisdom of their Mexican vacation, clearly he was headed for disaster; her face registered the disappointment and rage that was building. She took a sip of beer.
"God this is rot-gut beer!" She quickly poured it on the sand.
Zack was enraged that she didn't offer the beer to him before pouring it out.
"Fuck you Bev! That was perfectly good beer."
