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The sun was shining, only a few clouds in the sky, and we were thinking “beach time!” As we dressed for our motorcycle ride to the beach, we talked about life, our personal paths, and how our relationship fit into the future. We agreed that the big picture was different for each of us, and that was totally OK with where we were at that moment.
Phillippe saw himself continuing to settle in as manager at the manufacturing plant in Massachusetts, where he was recently transferred. He wasn’t quite ready for a relationship, but was open to new experiences. He wanted to know more about the area’s gay scene, and looked forward to exploring.
I was still acclimating to being divorced, and to living in California – far away from my New England roots. Despite my enthusiastic and passionate foray into man on man sex, I still longed for a woman with whom to spend the second half of my life. Oh, there would still be room for some cock here and there, too.
Phillippe and I agreed that our weekend together had cemented our friendship, strengthened our working relationship, and mended some recent wounds – his departure from an abusive relationship and for me, a recent divorce as well as the end of a brief bisexual relationship with my co-worker, Steve.
The two of us were still feeling horny and flirtatious with each other as we gathered our stuff for the beach. He was grabbing at my cock each time he passed. In retaliation, I pinched his ass and squeezed his cheeks. I even teased a little when I told him, “I want to feel your cock piercing rubbing on my P-spot tonight”
Our planned excursion was nearly derailed as we turned off the Mid-Cape towards Longnook Beach. Phillippe pulled the motorcycle over to the roadside, where a small terrier lay on it’s side, breathing heavily, one hind leg bent awkwardly.
“Poor thing, it must have been hit by a car,” said Phillippe. “What do you think we should do?”
Before I could answer, a car pulled up behind us, and an elderly woman hopped out, exclaiming “Is he ok?”
I started to explain that we found the dog that way, but she interrupted, “No, boys, it’s fine, I saw you pull over to help him.”
As Phillippe tried to give the dog water from his water bottle, I asked the woman if she knew of any veterinarians around. She answered, “Yes, Dr. Wilson, back on the mid-Cape, he took care of my kitty. You obviously can’t take him on your Harley, so one of you get in my car and I’ll take you to the vet.”
I slid into the back seat of her Subaru, and Phillippe scooped the whimpering terrier up in his beach towel, placing him on my lap. The woman, who introduced herself as Grace, eased her car into a u-turn and headed back towards Rte 6, with Phillippe following.
The vet’s practice was in a storefront as the left hand anchor of a small strip of three stores. Directly adjacent was a liquor store and, at the right end, a stroke of irony – a recreational marijuana outlet.
As we entered the office, we were greeted gruffly at the door by an attractive woman, maybe in her early 40s, with a crew cut, wearing a tight tank top that displayed her inked arms and shoulders, as well as her ample braless breasts. “We’re closing early today, the doctor has a patient, can you call Monday?”
“Uh…no, this dog was hit by a car, I think…” Phillippe valiantly tried to push forward.
“There’s a 24 hour animal hospital back towards Eastham,” she persisted.
A man dressed in dark blue scrubs suddenly emerged from an office behind the reception area. “I’ve got time, let me take a look! I’m Marc Wilson, by the way.”
The veterinarian held out his hand, a huge hand, which dwarfed Phillippe’s as they shook. Carrying the dog, I nodded, and said, “Thank you, doctor. We think he got hit by a car. He was by the side of the road on Longnook.”
“Right this way,” he told us as he led us down a short hallway. “Melanie, you can lock up. I’ve got this”
Melanie smiled at the doctor as she locked the front door, gathered a backpack from behind the reception desk and headed for a side door. “Locked up! See you tonight. I love you!”
“Love you too, Mel! Be good!” He said over his shoulder, showing us into an examination room.
Dr. Wilson turned to Phillippe and me and said, “Sorry, my sister runs the front with an iron fist!”
As he carefully took the dog from me, I got my first full look at him. Marc Wilson was easily six feet tall, maybe even 6-2. He had green eyes and straight blonde hair, kind of like Robert Redford’s hair in the movie “All the President’s Men.” His arms, covered with soft blonde hair, were muscular, well developed, and his left arm bore an interesting, dark scar from under the bicep down below the elbow.
“Hey, fella, you look familiar,” he said to the whimpering dog. “I think you were one of my first patients!”
Phillippe and I looked at each other. We hadn’t considered what would happen if the dog got treated. Now, it seemed that maybe the owner would be easy to find.
“Guys, bahis firmaları we caught a lucky break!” Dr. Wilson smiled at us, “This is Stanley. I neutered him in April, see, here’s where I tattooed him when I did that.” There was a small green tattoo of numbers on Stanley’s thigh.
“And even more fortunately, his leg is just dislocated. I’m going to fix that, but you guys don’t need to see!” The doctor lifted Stanley and slipped him into a crate, securing it before motioning for us to follow him from the room. “I’ll check him for any internal injuries, then call his family. They are a nice elderly couple. They must be worried sick about him.”
“Off to the beach, my friend!” I said to Phillippe, then turned to shake hands with the doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Wilson!”
“It’s Marc. Headed to Longnook?” He asked.
“Yes, Marc, James is going to show me the nude section!” Phillippe said.
“I’m heading down, too. Maybe I’ll see you there!” Marc waved to us, locking the door behind us.
At the beach within minutes, we parked the bike and began the long trek. We knew we had arrived at the unofficial nude area when we came upon a party of six young men laughing and horsing around in the tide, asses and cocks exposed on all.
We walked a bit further along the water, distancing ourselves from the rowdy group, and picked a spot where we could spread out our one remaining towel (thanks to Stanley). Phillippe stripped within seconds, dropping his shorts, tank top and sunglasses in the sand and jogged towards the tide.
I was momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his bikini tan-outlined ass cheeks gliding away from me. My wits returned finally, and I gazed around me. The college kids were giggling as they began daydrinking about 100 yards away, and there was an older couple of men further up the beach. I got my courage up and stripped naked, tossing all clothes aside. After quickly spraying on some sun screen all over, I jogged down to join Phillippe in the water.
Phillippe and I swam for awhile, riding the waves and just hanging out in the cool, refreshing water. The sun was shining strong and the sand was heating up. We eventually decided to drip dry in the sun, so we rode one last wave in and sat on our towel where Phillippe offered me a second coating of sunscreen.
I spread my clothes in the sand and lay flat as his strong hands coated my back. He squeezed a cool squirt of sunscreen down my spine and into my ass crack, then began rubbing it into my hot skin. His thumbs spread ample amounts down my crack, with special attention paid to my puckered hole, as I moaned with pleasure. As my cock began to stir, Phillippe laid a perfect spank on my ass cheek, reminding me where we were. I wiggled my ass, rubbing my cock on the clothes beneath me, feeling a drop of precum touching my skin under me.
Just as my mind began to wander back to our passionate embraces of the night before, I heard a familiar voice call out, “Hey guys!”
Dr. Marc Wilson was coming towards us, wearing bright red floral swim trunks, a Red Sox t-shirt with sleeves cut off, worn leather sandals, and a tattered Northeastern University baseball cap. Something struck me suddenly as vaguely familiar about Marc, but I couldn’t immediately put my finger on it.
I turned and sat up, proud of my semi-erect cock as it hung at about five inches. I knew I was way too conscious of my size, but wrote it off as ‘first time at the nude beach trepidations.’
“Hey Doc!” I said. “Come on, join us!”
His sandy hair poked out from under the ball cap, and flecks of gray tinged his sideburns. I spotted a tattoo on his left shoulder, with a flaming baseball and, in script, “No-no, 5-3-98.” I then realized why he looked familiar – he was an outstanding college baseball player at Northeastern University in Boston about twenty years earlier. The athletic physique made sense now!
We introduced ourselves properly, as he pulled a large bedspread and couple of towels from his backpack, and started to lay the bedspread down.
“Guys, call me Marc. I’m out of the scrubs and pretty soon I’ll be naked like you guys, and I find it creepy to be calling a naked guy, ‘Doc!'” he said, laughing. “I noticed you left your beach towel with Stanley, so I brought these,” he offered.
“How is he?” Phillippe asked.
“I relocated his leg, drugged him up a little. His family is picking him up Monday. They are so appreciative! Looks like a neighbor kid let him out, never told anyone.”
After we spread the blanket, I rolled my clothes up, careful to cover the wet spot where my cock had drooled from Phillippe’s touch. I started to lay down, but Marc popped to his feet and began to shed his clothes. “Have you been in the water yet? Is it cold?” He asked, tossing his hat and shirt on the blanket.
I tried to look nonchalant as he dropped his swim trunks, but the cock that he had liberated almost made me gasp. About 7″ soft, uncut, hanging over an appropriately sized sack, all made to kaçak iddaa look larger by his smooth shaved crotch. I had never been one to find an uncut cock appealing, but Marc’s had me reevaluating that stance. It wasn’t thick, which may have made me think of how well his cock would fit my mouth.
Phillippe, unfazed by the grand unveiling, answered, “The water’s great! I’m ready to go back in!
We swam for awhile, enjoying the cold Cape Cod ocean experience- waves, salty spray, and humongous sea gulls dive bombing to grab tiny fish. The athlete among us, Marc was a proficient swimmer.
Back on shore, we all plunked down on Marc’s blanket, sharing some fruit Phillippe had brought and cold sodas from Marc’s cooler. We got to know each other – Phillippe and I filled Marc in on our jobs, our professional relationship, and our intimate friendship – a sort of best friends with the best benefits! I shared my emergence from hetero married guy to divorced bi guy, and Phillippe told about his recent break-up and alcoholic spiral.
Marc nodded, understanding our bond, it seemed. “My best friend during college was also my first guy. He was part of the host family I lived with, when I played in the Cape Cod League for a couple of years.”
“I knew it! You pitched for Northeastern, right? I saw you destroy my alma mater in a game when you were a senior,” I interrupted. “Sorry for jumping in. Were you ‘out’ in college?”
“Yeah, until my elbow unraveled, I was hoping to be the next Tom Glavine. No, it was our secret. We shared a bedroom for two summers. He’s gay, a year older than me, and one night we got drunk, got freaky, and sucked each other off. It just progressed from there. We kept our secret relationship alive for about five years until he pursued a career overseas. I was a man whore in college, but he was the only guy until my third year at Tufts Veterinary College.”
“How did you wind up here?” Phillippe asked.
“My twin sister, Melanie, who you met this morning, has lived here for awhile with her partner, Suze. She is an RN but was getting burned out dealing with patients, so she talked me into opening the practice. I had been partners with someone, professionally and personally, and it went south, so the timing was perfect,” Marc explained. “And my apologies for Mel’s attitude this morning. She’s sometimes a bit like Nurse Ratched!”
“Oh, she was fine. Just trying to get out the door when we were trying to ruin her day!” I said.
Marc laughed, “She’d like you, she’s always been a sucker for guys with shaved heads!”
“Oh, I thought she was…” I started.
“Oh, sorry to confuse you. We’re both, I guess you’d say, pansexual.” Marc explained. “It’s apparently not unusual for both twins, even non-identical, to have the same sexual preferences.”
Phillippe asked, “So how do you like the P-Town atmosphere?”
“Honestly, it’s not for me. I’m pretty quiet, I live my life that way. So I rarely go into P-Town.”
“I feel the same way. It was interesting to see what it was all about, but I enjoyed our time in our room far more than in town.” Phillippe said, flashing me a smile.
The beach was becoming a little more crowded by 1 pm. There were a few more groups of men, and the college kids had begun to pair off and discreetly sneak up into the dunes behind us for a stroke off or quick blowjob. We had enjoyed our fill of sand and sun when Marc asked, “How about we grab some takeout and spend the evening on my boat. I can show you some pods of whales and nothing beats watching moon rise from on the water!”
We picked up quickly, dressed, and hit the road within fifteen minutes. I rode in Marc’s Jeep with Phillippe following. After grabbing some food and drinks, we arrived at the harbor where Marc introduced us to the Diamond Gem, all forty- plus feet of her.
Marc’s boat was beautiful! Room to sleep six people, plenty of space both above and below decks, and all the electronic equipment imaginable to a landlubber like me. Marc explained that it was a generous gift from their parents to him and his sister when his dad sold a successful medical practice. The boat was named for Mel’s skills on the softball field as much as for Marc’s baseball accomplishments.
After briefly meeting with the Harbor Master, Marc gassed up and took us out. We cruised north away from Provincetown for a bit, caught sight of a pod of humpback whales and numerous dolphins and seals. As we headed back into Cape Cod Bay, Marc piped the Red Sox radio broadcast through the boat’s sound system.
Marc was demonstrating to Phillippe how to steer the boat, I was lounging under the canopy in the stern area, and the sea breeze was lulling me to sleep. After a short nap, I awoke to a still sea, the boat anchored a few hundred yards from shore, and neither of my shipmates in sight.
I climbed down the stairs below deck, finding Marc and Phillippe in the main stateroom…in bed…naked…kissing. My first thought was how nicely Phillippe’s ass had tanned kaçak bahis that morning at the beach. My second thought was to leave the two men to enjoy each other in peace. Before I could back out, Marc called to me.
“James, it’s about time you came looking for us! We’ve been waiting for you!”
Phillippe popped up to his knees and reached for me, pulling me to the bed so he could lift my T-shirt off. Marc then crawled over and began pulling my trunks down. My stiffening cock betrayed my interest in joining them.
They rolled me onto my back, and Phillippe began sucking my nipples, stroking my cock. Marc was kneeling over me, his long uncut cock within reach. I began caressing his balls, watching as Phillippe leaned across my chest to kiss that magnificent cock.
“James, there’s enough for both of us!” Phillippe whispered.
“I’ve never sucked an uncut cock, Phillippe!” I whispered back.
Marc then straddled my chest, his cock stiffening gradually.
“Like this, my friend!” Phillippe lifted the growing organ and slipped his tongue under Marc’s foreskin, suckling, kissing it in front of my face. I moved closer, and began sucking Marc’s balls, my tongue joining Phillippe’s cock worship.
I surrounded Marc’s wet cock head with my lips as it grew beyond his foreskin. He leaned forward, pushing it deep into my mouth, making me gag momentarily. He began fucking my mouth, holding my head, stopping just short of my gag point.
Phillippe slipped down, sucking my cock, massaging my balls. Marc’s moans drew louder as my tongue flattened against his shaft. He pulled out far enough to let me lick his tip, tasting his precum, as I stroked him.
“Oh, man, stop, before I cum too soon!” He suddenly said, dropping down to join Phillippe in sucking me. Watching these two studs working my cock was driving me wild! As Phillippe moved up to suck my nipples, Marc lifted my legs, rimming my tight hole. His tongue was soon replaced by his middle finger, slipping deep in me.
Marc had me moaning for relief, but he had himself in mind. He stood and began humping my cock with his own. Phillippe moved over, taking both cocks in his hand and sucking them both, one at a time at first. He then stretched his mouth around both, sucking, licking as long as he could, then letting them slip from his lips.
We moved around to a cock sucking triangle of bodies. My mouth was on Phillippe’s pierced, short, dark, delicious, hard tool, my nose buried in his stiff black pubes, my thumb playing with his scrotum piercing. Phillippe sucked Marc’s uncut monster, showing his expertise with oral pleasure. And Marc, struggling not to lose his composure as he moaned in ecstacy, stroked my shaft as he suckled my cockhead.
The boat rocked with our gyrations. The stateroom was filled with manly groans, moans, dirty talk, and wet sucking sounds. Inhaling, I took in the scent of man sweat, stale cologne, and sex. I longed to taste a load, anyone’s load, of hot, thick jizz. And I longed to let loose my load, but I assumed Marc would be the first to cum.
I shifted out of Marc’s mouth and moved down to join Phillippe on Marc’s magnificent monster cock. We licked up the shaft, kissing with his head between us, slurping for precum, then licked back down, over and over. Phillippe gently massaged under Marc’s sack, and I sucked his balls, before we tongue lashed his head. Marc was writhing on the bed when Phillippe slipped his finger into Marc’s ass. I was kissing the tip when Marc suddenly stiffened, letting out a loud “Ohhhhhhh.”
As I lifted my lips from his tool, he exploded! His first stream caught my cheek and forehead, and, as I moved my head, the next spurt shot all over his chest. He spasmed five times, reaching his stomach with the last. I ran my tongue up his body, collecting his hot cum, stopping to kiss him…and share his load with him. He took my face in his huge hands and licked the stray jizz from my cheek, then fell back on the bed, totally spent.
I looked back at Phillippe, saw him smiling, and knew what I needed to cap the day. I thought about my experiences over the last year, from my first taste of cock, to exploring anal sex as a top, my mmf threesome, and, most recently, experiencing a lingam massage. I found myself in a mmm threesome with two hunks, but what I wanted right then was to feel Phillippe’s pierced frenum rubbing my P-spot.
I climbed forward on the bed, aside Marc, and grabbed a condom and the lube that I spotted on the nightstand. I tossed it behind me to Phillippe, and offered him my ass.
“Take me, Phillippe, let me feel you inside me…now!” I was demanding, feeling empowered, yet surrendering in a way I had never done.
Phillippe leaned close, dribbling saliva on my tight hole, then massaged the muscles holding it closed. His familiar touch relaxed me, and I awaited his next move.
I felt a stream of lube drip on my ass, down my balls, and then, his cock, pressing into me. The round barbell piercing seemed to stretch me open, and I felt my butt hole close back around his cock. His gentle thrusts were slow, shallow but oh so pleasurable. Marc moved down, reaching under to stroke my coke, moving in rhythm to Phillippe’s thrusts.
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