Home to Fire Island

"See that man over there?"

"The one in black leather? With those other guys who parked their cycles out front?"

"Yes," Sam said. "He's looking over here, so, no matter what, keep a smile on."

Danny had just come down from the pole. In the middle of the second week, Sam had insisted that he go up on the pole for at least two sets each night. Lance, the bartender, had given him some basic lessons and pointers. Lance had graduated from the pole to behind the bar. Danny still didn't think he did very well, but that didn't matter to his audiences, and he had well over $100 in small bills stuffed in the waistband of his sequined thong from this set alone. For the after-midnight show he wouldn't be leaving the stage with the thong on—but he no longer had to do the cleanup after closing either. He almost always had someone in his room with him after that last set on the pole and beyond closing.

"Saturday night's the big night here," Lance had told Danny, looking at him closely to get his reaction. "There's an additional show at 2:00, and we don't close up until 3:00. And whoever does the closing show on the pole doesn't go back to his room with anyone."

"What do you mean?" Danny had asked.

"Anyone who stays past 1:30 has to pay a stiff entertainment fee. During the 2:00 pole dance, Jose, or anyone who pays a lot extra fucks the pole dancer on stage, with everyone watching. But when we close up at night, there are to be no outsiders in the building. So, you might be fucked on stage in the last set, but you don't take anyone from the outside back to your room beyond closing."

Danny considered this last dance set business. He'd told himself he was going to try it all here on Fire Island this season. "The pay good for the pole dancer?"

Danny hadn't come to Fire Island for the money, but the money here was so good he started thinking about being able to continue in college and living on his own after the season close down here.

"The best," Lance answered. "Better than the rest of the week put together. Especially on a special night."

"A special night?"

"Sometimes more than one patron wants to pay to be on stage."

"Ah, well." Danny said nothing further. A patron had paid Sam to let him take Danny home the previous Saturday night, so he wasn't there for this special night. And who knew, by this Saturday night, Danny might have moved on. Or, maybe after thinking about it, he'd want to have a new experience.

Danny had been turning tricks now for three nights, but Sam had been limiting the engagements. He said Danny wasn't ready to be taking offers directly. Sam would pick out who went with him. And Sam would take the money and give Danny what he gave him the next day. Danny got the impression that Sam was funneling the high payers in his direction.

"Keep each one fresh—like you've never done that particular thing before," Sam kept telling him. "You're a natural innocent. Just remember how to tighten yourself up inside—and do a lot of moaning. But also remember to tell him how good he was. One of your first, but also one of your best."

"You sure about the guy you're pointing out?" Danny asked Sam when he'd seen the biker. He was all muscle and black leather. He didn't seem the high-paying type.

"He's a friend of Jose's," Sam answered. "And he owns the local Harley shop. He's good for the money. He's paid up front. Jose told him about you."

I'll just bet Jose did that, Danny thought. I wonder what Sam's thinking. Jose had thrown on a mad when Sam told him he couldn't touch Danny again after that first time—that Danny was worth too much to the house for Jose to be stretching him for free. "Maybe after a month or two," Sam had said. "After word gets around that he's not so fresh anymore."

Not so fresh anymore, Danny had thought. Then he decided he didn't care. The season would be over in five weeks. He'd either find what he wanted here or move on. The trouble was that he didn't really know what we wanted. He just knew that he felt freer and more in control of himself and closer to satisfaction here than he had back in Plainview with his mother and Floyd. He just didn't know how much farther off total satisfaction was—or what it would be, what it would feel like. Who knew, it might be Saturday night after 2:00 on his back with his legs spread on the stage with guys watching.

"Now or after the last set?" was all Danny asked.

Sam smiled. He apparently had expected some resistance. He was developing Danny slowly. Danny really did seem fresh and to have an innocence about him. Sam didn't know where the "escape" edge would be with Danny. Young guys had come and gone in Danny's position at the bar. They'd all had an escape edge that Sam eventually breached with his progressively more demanding arrangements. Lance and Joel had been able to move to the bar. Most of the others had just walked away in the middle of the night. Some had been rejected by the crowd that came here after they'd been used up. Danny looked like one who would be used up. Sam just didn't know how soon and which of his demands would do it.

"Now. In a few minutes. Jose is back in your room putting the sling up."

"The sling?"

"Yeah. First time, won't it be? Act like it's the first time. Looks are deceiving. This biker has money. If he likes it, he'll be back. You be fresh for him and he'll like it."

The biker was all bulging muscle everywhere but where it counted. Danny decided he must have traded the withering of steroids in the places that counted for flashy deltoids. Danny did get a little thrill of anticipation mixed with trepidation when he was completely incapacitated by being pushed back into the sling and having all four limbs cuffed off high on the four chains running up the corners. But the fuck itself didn't do much for him other than bruise him up a bit. He hardly felt the pumping action; he was mostly paying attention to the biker pounding on his chest and belly and thighs rather hard with his fists as he worked hard to grunt himself to an ejaculation.

Danny must have guessed right, though, on how to respond and the noises to make—until the biker had gagged him, obviously pleased at pulling screams of pain out of the smaller, but perfectly formed, and beautifully handsome nearly chaste youth. When the guy had gone, Danny had heard him talking to Sam out in the hallway and saying that he'd be back.

* * * *

After the first week, Danny worked out with Sam that, since the bar didn't really close at midnight and Danny rarely closed his legs before 3:00, he didn't really need to come in to work until after 6:00 in the evening. The late afternoon crowd really had someplace else to go after dinner or they would have come into the bar later. Sam was quick to realize that the money to be made off Danny was after the first set on the poles at 9:00 p.m. Danny wasn't the only pole dancer, but he had quickly become the most popular one with the late-evening crowd.

Afternoons Danny started to explore the island—mostly its beaches. Maybe, he thought, total satisfaction would come from young guys on the beaches who didn't club all that much. Even then, Danny began to get the inclination that maybe what he hadn't attained was some form of commitment and normalcy. Maybe he'd find that in the community of guys who just came here to meet and play with—and fuck around a bit—other just regular guys.

After a couple of days checking out the regular beaches—and noticing that most of the guys going there were already hooked up—Danny decided to up the ante. The guys at these beaches might give him a smile and a second glance as he walked around in his Speedo and the cut off T-shirts that only said "Sam's" because he'd cut them off below the pecs and lost the "Bar" part, but they usually were with someone else and had a set of friends they were working with. He had cut the shirts off because he had great abs, and he knew he did. He was more than a pretty face—although his face didn't hurt his prospects, he now was coming to accept.

Most of the close attention and offers Danny was getting at these beaches were from over-the-hill, big-bellied older men. He got a lot of attention from cops too, though, who mostly thought he was underage—or who were just hassling him to get a fast fuck in an alley or squad car in exchange for not taking him in on trumped-up charges. Danny didn't mind; the cops here kept in good shape, and he didn't mind being fucked by a randy guy in a uniform.

So, after this beach experiment, Danny decided to go where there weren't so many over-the-hill guys. He got the brilliant idea that the ones who weren't in shape wouldn't be as inclined to go to a nude beach. He also thought there might be more single guys cruising on a beach like that. He was equipped nicely too, so he could see no reason why he couldn't get some new experiences at a nude beach.

He found out that the Fire Island Lighthouse Beach near the western end of the island was the "the place" to go for young, gay nudists. He'd also heard that it was a good hook-up spot. So, on the eighth day of his employment at Sam's Bar, Danny rolled up a beach towel, put it under his arm, and took the public bus headed west.

The beach was really interesting. The older, out-of-shape guys tended to stay up on the road, sitting in their convertibles with binoculars and offering rides to guys they'd been zeroing in on when they came off the sand. The beach wasn't all that crowded that day. There were a couple of groups of guys playing volleyball, all young and in great shape. There were some couples laying close together on towels on the beach, and then there were a lot of singles, either staked out on towels or roaming around and cruising the talent on the beach.

There didn't seem to be any inhibitions. All of the guys were naked, and it was evident that not many guys came out here if they didn't have great bodies and good equipment. He walked around a bit looking for a good place to settle where he could see and be seen. And as he did so, he realized that there really were few inhibitions here. There were guys sucking and fucking on the beach towels. Not just in pairs, either. There were some threesomes. Out in the surf, he even saw where a train had formed, and there must be five or six guys fucking in one chain while the waves rolled over them and, laughing, they did what they could to remain both upright and hooked up.

He passed one set of six hunky young guys playing a vigorous game of volleyball. Danny was half way passed them when he heard a "Hey, guys, check this one out" call out in a bass voice from the midst of the volleyball players. Danny turned at the sound of a wolf whistle.

"Fresh meat, I think," rang out another voice, this time a higher, tenor pitch to the voice. "Ain't seen you here. New?"

"First time on this beach," Danny said with a smile.

One of the guys was holding his genitals. "Wanna play? We could have a ball. Got something good for you."

"We'll see," Danny said and then continued on across the beach as the six hunks went back to their play. The banter had been friendly, nothing threatening. Still, Danny shivered a bit at the thought of six built guys like that.

He settled down not far from one end of the beach, where there were rock formations off to the side. It didn't take him long to realize that some of the guys seeking more privacy were going back into these rocks to get their enjoyment.

With a contented sigh, he laid back and closed his eyes and soaked up the rays.

He hadn't been there long when he felt he was no longer in the sun. He opened his eyes. A good-looking dark-haired guy was standing below him, blocking the late afternoon trajectory of the sun's rays.

"Hi. I haven't seen you here before," he said. The guy looked Greek. Beautiful head of curly black hair; marble-white skin, despite the sun; bedroom eyes; and pouty lips that produced a sensual smile. His body was perfectly formed. His dick didn't hang low, but it was showing interest in something. Since the guy had stopped to talk to him, Danny decided it was him. He didn't fight his cock waking up too. He turned full frontal and spread his legs.

"First time I've been on this beach." He laughed. "First time I've been on any beach like this. I've been on Fire Island less than a week." Sam had kept pounding into him that men here liked fresh meat. He'd play on that.

"My name's Billy. Haven't I seen you at Sam's Bar? Near the end of last week?"

He'd looked familiar to Danny. Now Danny knew why. Amateur pole night. This handsome Greek had danced the pole better than anyone else. And his sugar daddy hadn't particularly liked the attention he'd gotten.

"Yep, I work there," Danny said. He lifted his cut-off T on the towel beside him to evidence at least the "Sam's" part of the logo.

"I'd like to get to know you better," Billy said.

"That would be fine with me," Danny answered.

"Maybe a bit more privacy. We could go over there in those rocks. Most of them have beach in between."

"Fine with me."

The two kissed and wrestled and rolled around on the towel, each trying to position the other where they wanted him. After several moments, they broke down in laughter, realizing that both were bottoms in search of a top.

Then they cuddled for a while and told each other how attractive they would be if only they knew how to use their cocks to best advantage.

"You get much cocking at Sam's?" Billy asked.

"I think Sam's maneuvering me to be the Saturday night special this week," Danny answered.

"And you're OK with that? You're not scared?"

"I promised myself I'd try everything this season on Fire Island. I'm searching for something."

"Haven't found it yet?"

"I've had some good times, but, no, not the 'it,' if you know what I mean."

Billy didn't answer right away, so Danny continued.

"But I saw you with a really good-looking guy that night. I think that if I had a daddy like that, I wouldn't be out on Lighthouse Beach this afternoon."

"He's OK. He's Kyle Wilson. Owns a marina in Cherry Grove and he's an architect. He's designed many of the fancy beach houses on the island. He cocks great—sort of insatiable that way, and beyond exhausting, actually. Surprising for a guy his age. Well, for any guy. And he takes good care of me in other ways too. I think he wants a wife, though. He's always trying to do something to please me, but at the same time, to tie me down. I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"Look, you've still got me hard," Danny said. "And you're ready too despite our little farce a couple of minutes ago."

"You ever stroked another guy off while he jacked you?" Billy asked.

Danny shook his head.

"You said you wanted to try it all." Billy laughed and reached for Danny's cock with one hand and guided Danny's hand to his own cock with the other. It wasn't just mutual jacking off they ended up doing. Danny had his first experience in 69ing too.

Danny was dozing when Billy left him with a "Maybe I'll see you around. Maybe I can manage to drag Kyle there Saturday night, even. He can afford it, and he's not getting enough thrills in his life, I don't think. I know he likes you; he talked about you after that night."

Danny was still half awake, half asleep when he heard a rustling sound around him. He opened his eyes to see that the guys from one of the volleyball teams—the six guys who had teased him earlier—were standing around on the rocks surrounding his private little beach and smiling down on him.

In another first for him, he serviced all six—twice each, each one possessing and pumping both of his orifices. He took two on his back with his legs being spread by two other guys and another one straddling his chest and feeding his mouth. And two took him doggy style with a guy at his head, hands cupping his ears and fucking up into his mouth. One wanted to take him from the rear, both standing, and one of the guys sucking Danny off. The last, the biggest of them, stood and held Danny pinned to his pelvis with his cock buried in Danny's channel, and he trotted out into the surf and fucked Danny with waves coming in and nearly knocking them off their feet with each surge.

Danny gave them all a good time, and he told himself he'd had a good time too. As he was walking back to the top of the beach to catch a bus, he heard the wolf whistles start. One of the guys there, sitting on the truck of his Volvo convertible, with his legs hanging down into his backseat, looked a bit younger and in better shape than any of the rest of the binocular crew.

"Hey, want to go for a ride in my convertible?" he called out to Danny.

"No thanks. I've got a bus to catch."

"I can drive you anywhere you need to go. You seen all of the island? The eastern end?"

Danny hadn't seen all of the island, yet, no, and he had intended to go out to the eastern end someday just to see what was out there.

The man—Danny never got his name—drove some twenty-five miles east, into the Otis Pike Wilderness Area park, near a spot he called the Old Inlet, where he parked behind a sand dune and nailed Danny on the backseat of his car, holding one of Danny's legs up against the back of the seat and Danny digging the heel of his other foot into the side of the front passenger seat headrest. Afterward, he gave Danny a ride back only part way, to Blue Point Beach, where the guy said he lived. He did, though, give Danny twenty dollars and bus fare and his telephone number, saying he'd like to give Danny another ride anytime Danny wanted good sex.

The sex was OK, but not exactly what Danny would call good.

On the bus back to Sam's Bar, Danny forgot the single-guy encounter almost immediately and his mind went back to the gang bang on the nudist beach. He kept telling himself that there must be something more arousing, more satisfying than even that multiple taking. One of the guys had teased him with the possibility that two of them might fuck his hole at the same time. They didn't do that, but Danny now wondered if that was the experience he had been searching for.

Maybe. Maybe Saturday night. Sam had said that sometimes more than one guy had a go at the pole dancer late on Saturday night.