Ey Westing

When I returned from putting myself back together after experiencing the pile, I found Brian sitting primly at the Bourbon Street Pub's bar, apparently no worse the wear from the poundings he'd gotten from the manrammer and the Jamaican's own rammer and playing kissy face with yet another shorts-only dude. I pushed the dude off Brian with a "this one's mine" comment and told my freewheeling significant other that was time to move on.

"Fine by me," Brian said. I noticed that he was a little slow standing up, though. The Jamaican must have made quite an impression on—or, rather, in—him.

"Where to next then?" I asked.

"Back to Saloon 1," Brian said without hesitation. "I want to hook up with Flash again."

"Oh, God, all right," I said. I wasn't in the mood to fight.

We found that Flash had stayed put at the leather bar, just as he said he would, waiting for us to return. And he'd gathered a couple of friends he said wanted to meet us. The three were a motley group. Flash and the mountain of a man he introduced as Duane might have come from the same biker club. Duane was a good six foot seven, big boned, meaty, most of which was muscle, bald guy with a droopy mustache and a pig tail right at the back of his head. When I first saw him in the dim light of the bar, I thought he was wearing one fancy shirt, but it turned out he wasn't wearing a shirt at all. He was covered in an intricate black, blue, and red tattoo design that looked almost Oriental. When I was introduced and he shook my hand, I found that his mitt was about twice the size of mine.

"It's true what they say," he said, not letting go of my hand immediately, "At least about me." He said this with something between a smile and a leer on his face.

I was about to ask him what he meant, when he took my hand and wrapped it around his gigantic middle finger and slid the finger back in forth in my fist a couple of times. I got the point with that that his foot size indicated the size of another appendage and bit off any further question I might have. Brian moved in, with great interest, to talk with Duane as Flash turned and introduced me to his other sidekick.

"This is Paulo. Paulo, this is Estaban. You'll like Estaban, Paulo. You're both Brazilian firecrackers."

"Argentina. My family's from Argentina," I said, for no particular reason.

Paulo looked way out of place in this group, though. Dark and handsome and almost preppy looking. I would have taken him for a model straight out of an A&F ad. He was finely muscled, but in perfect proportion, and there was no clanking jewelry or tattoos to be seen on him. I moved closer to him, involuntarily indicating that I was making a choice between all of them. Flash got the point immediately.

"I wouldn't be too fast making friends with Paulo, if I were you," Flash said. "Looks can be deceiving. He likes toys."

I thought that one over as Paulo put a proprietary hand on my elbow and Duane perched on a bar stool and brought Brian's butt into this lap.

"So, have you boys been discovering the clubs of Key West?" Flash asked as he took a swig from his beer stein.

"Just one or two," I answered. Paulo was lightly running his fingers up and down my arm, sending chills along my spine.

"And what do you think of Key West?" Flash continued the conversation.

"I haven't really seen much of Key West, I'm afraid," I answered. "I've been working practically nonstop until this evening, and Brian's the one who has been doing the exploration and having most of the fun."

"You've had no fun at all?" Flash asked, putting on a mock pout. I knew he was referring to the good fucking he'd given me the previous night, and I was quick to keep the record clear.

"Well, yes, last night the Key West I was expecting started, but thus far tonight all we've experienced was a brief stop here and then a longer time over at the Bourbon Street Pub."

"The pub," Flash said. "And did you go downstairs?"

"Yes, I've been to the pile, if that's what you're asking." Flash smiled broadly and I heard Paulo, now behind me, with both of his hands running up and down my arms and his hot breath at my neck, take a sharp intake of breath.

"Ah, yes, the pile," Flash said. "And what else did you want to see here in the keys?"

"Well, I understood there are some really good, special beaches here, but I've been here four days and haven't seen any sand yet," I responded.

"Road trip," Flash called out to the group at large. "We know where they have the best beach in the world just waiting for you, up on Bahia Honda Key, not more than twenty-some keys back toward the mainland. And it has a nude section where they don't hassle anybody for anything, and it's gay friendly. Everyone to the car."

And that's all it took to have us all bundled into an old Chrysler Sebring convertible, just like nearly every other car riding the few stretches of road in Key West, and heading north up toward the toe of the Florida mainland in the early morning hours.

Flash was driving, and I was in front with him and spending much of my time telling him to keep his hands off me and his eyes on the narrow ribbon of road that was doubly frightening because it dropped off to ocean on both sides. Brian, Duane, and Paulo were in the back seat. For the first several miles, Brian was sitting in the middle, but it wasn't long until he was sitting on Duane's cock and shimmying his asshole up and down that pole. From the moans and groans Brian was emitting, I could tell that Duane hadn't exaggerated the size of his cock, because Brian was pretty good at taking them big, and he seemed to think he was having trouble with this one.

Paulo had taken something out of a duffel bag he'd brought into the car with him, and he was soon hunched over Brian, and Brian was yelling to the passing wind something about shocks and his dick, testicles, and nipples. I didn't even want to know what that was all about.

I listened to Brian whimpering and looked out on the most beautiful, pristine-white sand beach I could remember ever seeing as we drove onto the Bahia Honda Key, turned off the road and drove parallel to the beach to the very end of the road. We parked under a sign warning the prudish that this was designated as a nude-permissible section of the beach.

Flash popped the trunk and Duane and I helped him carry a collection of beach towels and other paraphernalia over the line of dunes and onto the sand. Paulo carried only his duffel bag, quite possessively, I might add, and Brian remained prone on the back seat of the car, his still-trembling legs draped up on the back of the front seats on one side and the convertible's tonneau cover on the other side.

"You OK, Brian?" I asked before I followed our three hosts up over the sand dune.

"Couldn't be better," Brian muttered. "God has that guy got one hell of a cock—and Paulo and his bag of tricks . . ."

"Yes, well, we're here now," I said. "You comin' onto the beach."

"In a few minutes," was Brian's dreamy-voiced reply. "Just give me a few more moments."

When I came over the dunes, I saw that the other three guys had pretty much set up our stake on the beach, having covered a fairly large area with beach blankets. All three were stripping down, and I took in a deep breath when I saw Paulo's beautiful Latin body. But I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw Duane stripped. His tattoo covered almost every inch of his body except for that monster cock swinging back and forth between his legs. And the contrast made the cock seem impossibly longer and thicker than it conceivably could really be. Flash's body was nothing to sneeze at either, but I've already come in intimate contact with that and enjoyed the effect of his various body piercings.

I shuffled through the finely grained white sand to the corner of their blanketed space and stripped down. Paulo watched me intently the entire time, a sloppy grin on his face, and I must not have disappointed him, because as soon as I was naked, he pulled me down to the blanket, my body stretched along his, and he began making slow, languid love to me with his gliding and fondling hands and his lips. I kept thinking of how Flash had told me to be very wary of Paulo, but no one had made such gentle and complete love to me before.

For the longest time Paulo possessed my mouth with his and rubbed the full length of his luscious body against mine. When his lips moved down to my nipples, I was able to look around the beach. There weren't too many other men out on the beach, as we had arrived quite early in the morning—but not earlier than the hot sun, however. Flash was nowhere to be seen, and I surmised that he had gone back to the car either to coax Brian down to the beach or to join him in the back seat for a fuck session of his own.

Duane, however, was very prominent. He had already made friends with a small-statured willowy Filipino guy who I had sort of noticed stretched out provocatively on a fairly substantial lounger not too far down the beach from us. The image of him when I was coming onto the beach flashed into my mind; a small, delicate effeminate type, stretched out on his lounger in a poster girl pose.

Well, he wasn't that way now, and Duane had been very quick in making his acquaintance, because Duane was now standing, feet buried in the sand, and legs firmly locked at the foot of the lounger, pointed out to sea. And he was wearing the willowy Filipino like a bib. The tiny figure was upended and draped down Duane's chest. Duane had his face buried between the Filipino's pert little butt cheeks, the Filipino's legs were spread-eagled out to the sides in nearly split formation, and he had both of his hands wrapped around Duane's tool and he was trying his best to get Duane's huge, bulbous mushroom cap into his mouth.

I lay there, fascinated by that tableau of the five-foot delicate doll and the six foot seven tattooed hulk in such a strange and intimate pose, and I moaned at what I was seeing and for what Paulo was doing in the journey of his lips around my body. He was working my navel with his lips now, while one of his hands brushed across and tweaked my nipples and the other one lightly glided on my inner thighs, causing me to spread my legs wide for him.

Paulo was crouched on his knees between my spread legs, cupping my butt cheeks in his hands, and making love to my cock, balls, and asshole with his mouth when I looked over at the incongruous biker-Filipino tableau again. Duane was already fucking his tiny prey now. The Filipino was facing him, but he was still draped down Duane's body. They were attached at the pelvises with Duane's gigantic peg impossibly buried in the Filipino's diminutive slot. Duane was holding the Filipino to him with his huge hands clutching the other's waist. The Filipino's legs were just bent at the knees with his calves flopping against Duane's hips in rhythm with Duane's cock stroking, and his back was suspended down toward the ground along Duane's well-planted legs. He was gripping Duane's calves as best he could with his hands in a an attempt to stabilize himself.

I was feeling distressed for the Filipino, who was fairly screaming his head off at the stuffing he was receiving, until his head turned to me and I saw the "well-fucked" expression on his face and hooded eyes that already appeared to be swimming in semen.

Paulo had his knees moving under my butt cheeks now and his hands on my hips, pulling my pelvis up his thighs and toward a very nice hard seven-inch cock. I looked dreamily and lovingly at him, fully prepared to take him, wanting him inside me now. No one had ever prepared me as well as he had for a good fucking. I was so mellowed out and aching for him that I didn't notice Flash and Brian coming down onto the beach arm and arm and Paulo motioning them over and I most certainly didn't see him open and search around inside his precious duffel bag.

I snapped to attention, though when I saw what he extracted from the duffel. I started to object and wiggle off of his thighs, but at his signal, Flash was above me holding my arms down and Brian was in back of Paulo holding my ankles.

Paulo very carefully and slowly strapped on the five-inch cock extender he'd taken from the bag. I was trembling and my belly was heaving at the very sight of it. It had thin leather straps that wrapped around Paulo's thin waste, holding it in place covering his cock. The apparatus itself was composed of a cock ring to be snapped around the root of his cock and then four narrow, but thick leather bands running up the four sides of his cock, which would allow the side of his cock to have some sensation of the friction inside my ass passage. These leather strips were lined with silicon bumps that my ass walls were already undulating in protest against. And then capping the business end of his cock was a five-inch silicon extension.

I lay moaning as I saw that the extension was a bulbous head, just like a monster cock would sport—except that the cap was studded with silicon bumps.

I protested loudly and in vain, as Paulo started to work this enhanced tool into my ass. I was involuntarily writhing against the three of them, but this just made the attention the artificial cock head was giving to the rim of my ass all the more brutal, so I just collapsed and panted heavily.

For several minutes Paulo only pushed in as far as my prostate and he had me spouting cream all over my belly, and this settled me even more. At eight inches in, I was enjoying the fuck enough that Flash and Brian could release my arms and ankles and go do as they please. I saw Flash rummaging around in Paulo's duffel, extract some sort of leather apparatus, and he and Brian moved down toward the water. At eleven inches in, I was arching my back and crying passionately to the clouds scuttling by overhead, lost in the fuck, no longer wanting Paulo to stop. And then he started to pump me and I screamed in ecstasy and started to buck with his rhythm. I felt Paulo fountain his load around the sides of the extension and into the center of me and then we both began a long deceleration, bringing our breath and heart beats back into a calmer rhythm. Paulo remained nearly twelve inches deep inside me, though, and I wanted him to stay there.

I looked out to sea and saw a speedboat flash along the beach and then return at a slower speed, throttling down. I imagined that we were giving whoever was in the boat a great performance. Not just Paulo and me, who couldn't really be seen at that well, but the others. I looked over at Duane and his prey, and I know saw that the Filipino was on his knees on the lounger, with his chest on the surface of the lounger and his butt in the air, pulled a little toward Duane, who was hunched over the Filipino's butt, one foot on the ground and the other foot on the lounger, giving him leverage to pile drive that huge tool of his down, almost sideways into the Filipino's incredibly receptive asshole. The Filipino was whimpering and purring at the same time.

But the real spectacle for the boater was the coupling of Flash and Brian. They were down at the water's edge, the surf swishing over their feet and ankles. Flash had a plow belt firmly in the grip of his hands and wrapped around Brian's belly, and Brian was bent over toward the ocean, his ass open to Flash's vigorous stroking down into him with his hard cock. He was pulling all of the way out and slamming back in, and each time he pulled out, the Prince Albert cock ring through his glans flashed in the sun. I wondered whether that was how Flash got his name.

The boat had edged into the beach now, and a well-cut black dude was clamoring out and stumbling up the beach. He bypassed Brian and Flash and came right up to Paulo and me. He pulled off his Speedo and he was on his hands and elbows over my body in 69 position and was sucking my cock and offering his to me. Paulo started stroking me with his enhanced cock again.

We must have enticed Duane, though, because shortly thereafter, he lost interest in his Filipino, who just collapsed on the lounger and whimpered and trembled the rest of the time we were there. Duane moved over to us, and brushed the boater aside and pushed Paulo out of and off me. He then picked me up like I was a rag doll. With some effort from him, and considerable screeching from me, he pushed my ass down on his cock with him standing and me being held to his chest, and then he walked into the water up to above our waists and slid me back and forth on his cock, fucking me there in the water.

Looking back on the beach, I saw that Paulo, still encased in his extender, had the boater up on his knees and was deep fucking him doggie style.

After that initial orgy on the beach, we were all pretty spent. The boater hobbled back down to his boat, all grins, and sped back out to sea, and the Filipino just lay all akimbo on his lounger and whimpered and purred. The rest of us rested and swam and ate from a picnic basket Flash had been good enough to bring along and did a little more fucking until mid afternoon.

Flash then herded us back into the Sebring and turned its hood south toward Key West. It was evening when we rolled back onto the pleasure island. I had thought Flash would drop Brian and me off at our motel, but he continued on through the town and past Duval Street toward the Truman Annex. He pulled the car into a narrow driveway beside a gingerbreaded shotgun house and parked in front a one-car garage in the back. The house narrowed as it spread back on the lot and there was a small swimming pool nestled between this wing and the garage.

While Duane took Brian to the pool to show him what a freshwater fuck would be like, Paulo, who I no longer thought of as the clean-cut preppy type, showed me that the garage wasn't for the car. Before I knew it, he had me cuffed into a sling hanging from a center beam that made me writhe and arch my back and scream to the ceiling and cry out in ecstasy for him and Flash to give me more, more, and deeper, deeper and longer, longer. This was the Key West I had imagined and looked forward to.