Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

The man, who introduced himself as Steve on the ride to the hotel, sat in a chair and watched Philip undress in his hotel room and then pull on a skimpy Speedo. Philip kept looking at the bed. He did want to go to the beach, but what he really would have liked would have been for Steve to fuck him with that monster cock before they went—if, of course, the photograph in the art book hadn't been photo shopped. Philip was real interested in checking that out.

But Steve didn't take the hint. He just sat and watched. And Philip wasn't going to beg for it. At least not yet.

"Don't you have a suit?"

"In the ute, yes. But I'll wear what I have on," Steve answered. Philip hoped that Steve would be going into the water. He couldn't wait to see a pair of wet gym shorts hanging off the guy. He was wondering if those silver lions' heads were attached to what he thought they were. There wasn't much they could be attached to if not that.

Obelisk beach was out Middle Head Road, toward the harborside town of Manly, on the north shore of the long bay stretching inland to Sydney.

The section they went to was a gay beach permitting nude sunbathing, and although there weren't many guys on the beach, they tended to be paired off and were making out most of the time. Not actual humping, as that wasn't allowed on the beach, but everything up to penetration, and there were many pathways leading in from the road to the beach covered in heavy foliage. Pairs of men could go off into the bush for their fucking and then come back and perhaps pair off with others for another round. Several eyed Philip and Steve closely in passing, but a good look at Steve told them it was best to move on and perhaps take their chances with Philip later if he was alone.

Philip and Steve mainly made out—heavily so, and in fact probably a bit beyond the beach's "no penetration" rules. They didn't go off into the paths, and they didn't stay long on the beach. Steve obviously had an agenda. He was the aggressor. That was the way Philip wanted it.

After they had lain on a beach blanket, side by side, on their backs for a while, Steve rolled over on top of Philip. He didn't let his weight rest on Philip except at their crotches, propping himself up on his elbows and his knees, but what he did to Philip couldn't be called much less than a dry fuck—with enough penetration to make Philip moan for more. His knees were between Philip's thighs, his arms were cradling Philip's back, and his hands were cupping Philip's head, holding him captive, while Steve ground against Philip's basket with his own and trapped Philip's lips in deep, tongue in mouth kisses when he wasn't ravishing Philip's nipples with his lips and teeth.

Rolling Philip's pelvis up by forcing his thighs under Philip's, and after rubbing the underside of his nearly unclothed cock over Philip's hole at length while Philip shuddered and writhed under him, Steve pressed his cock head, fettered only by the thin material of his gym shorts and the not-much-thicker material of Philip's Speedo, against Philip's hole and actually managed a bit of penetration of the bulb in short jabs that had Philip gasping and counterpressing, bringing the gigantic bulb a bit further inside his opening, sighing for him, and whispering of moving into the foliage and completing the fuck. Philip, panting hard and groaning and moaning, begged and whined for the fuck, but Steve just laughed. At length Philip came in his Speedo and collapsed under Steve.

"Fuck me for real now, please," he whined.

"Drawing first. Then we fuck for real. Had enough of visiting a beach? Are you ready to go back to my place now? Now that I have shown that I can make you come even without taking our clothes off?"

"Oh, god, yes."