On the Beach

I mean no disrespect to the novel of the same title. It's a great book. There's no apocalypse in this story. All the characters are 18 or older. It started as a story about nudity and slipped away from me into a story of voyeurism and exhibitionism. There are family members involved but they do not have sex with each other, though there are clearly incestuous overtones. I hope you'll continue reading but if straight up incest is all that does the trick for you I suggest you try some of my other tales.

Thanks to LarryInSeattle for his editing help.

Enjoy. Vote. Comment.

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I tightened my abs, getting off on seeing the hard muscles. I'm not a narcissist, well not a total narcissist, anyhow. Those abs had taken a lot of effort and a lot of hours. I love watching them tighten when I cum. That was something I hoped to be doing soon. It was hot and my skin was damp with sweat. I had been lying in the sun, drying off after a dip in the pool. I was alone, everyone else had left to play miniature golf. I was willing, at twenty-two and the recent recipient of all the rights and responsibilities entitled the bearer of a bachelor's degree in communications and mass media, to tag along on the family vacation - especially one I didn't have to pay for that included a pool, a beach, plenty of sun, and plenty of beer - but I had my limits. I was not playing miniature golf with my sister, my brother, his work bud, and our parents. That would be way too fucking lame.

I held the crunch, rubbing my hands over my belly, loving the ridges of muscle. I let my hands drift down to the top of my trunks. I shaded my eyes with one hand and scanned the area around the pool and the deck above me. I tried to peer into the darkness of the walkout basement behind me. I would have heard the car pull in. I would have heard the inevitable noise of my family bulling their way out of the van. No, I was alone. I lay back on the lounge chair, untied my trunks and slipped one hand inside.

We were only two days into a two-week stay and I had discovered a major flaw in my vacation plans. No chicks. After a two-year college relationship had fizzled to a disturbingly dull and unemotional close, I had avoid more than the occasional hook-up. Hook-ups weren't that hard, even if you didn't spend hours on your abs. If nothing else, college had taught me that chicks like to fuck as much as any dude. True, they tended to get clingy a little quicker than a dude but that didn't mean they didn't like to fuck.

I had been too busy with finals and hitting the job fairs to have any time to hang out in clubs or bars. Other than Rosy Palm and her five sisters, I was in the middle of one of the longest dry spells since matriculating to one of our state's finer institutions of higher learning, binge drinking, and sex. The relative lack of girls on this stretch of beach was only one aspect of the problem. The other problem being that I was back in the loving arms of my family, the smothering loving arms of my family, the always on top of me loving arms of my family, the Jesus fucking Christ I can't get enough privacy to jerk off loving arms of my family. You'd think my brother would understand. Fuck, you'd think my dad would understand. He wasn't that old.

This had more to do with my staying behind than my disdain for miniature golf. The fact that my sister routinely humiliated me at miniature golf was also factor. She had wanted to be a doctor since she was, I don't know, eight months old, but her true vocation was putt-putt golf. She should go pro and skip the drudgery of college and med school. You'd think our parents were Catholics the way they had squirted out the three of us. I was the oldest and based on the fact I appeared to have been a 7 pound 6 ounce, two month 'pre-term' infant and that my parents got married in college when dad was twenty and mom was nineteen made me vaguely suspicious that I was, just guessing here mind you, a what-the-fuck-you-mean-you're-pregnant baby.

Despite the odds, it had worked. My parents were clearly, and embarrassingly at times, in love. They both finished college. Mom stopping to have my brother, Bill, when I was barely a year and a half old while she was a junior and then, in what they admitted was a WTF, my sister just a year later. My mom was barely twenty-three and my dad still shy of twenty-five when their family was complete. Mom let dad off the hook and underwent the snip-snip operation herself. It was cool growing up having such young parents, at least at first. In high school, Bill and I quickly grew tired of all the MILF comments from our friends. We were so close in age that we shared a lot of the same friends, at least until I left for college and Bill, being wiser and probably smarter than I, had decided to forgo college. He went to the local vo-tech, got his contractor's license and, more importantly, learned to weld. He was out of the house, stashing away savings and already making nearly as much money as mom did teaching fifth grade. He had brought a buddy from work, Jim, with him. Neither of them would reach twenty-one until the end of the summer, which was why they hung out in the fucking beach house playing video games instead of getting out of my hair and hitting the bars.

After they had piled into the Odyssey and left for Pirate Cove and its kitschy 'argh matey' themed putting challenges, I had grabbed a towel and jumped into the pool. I didn't want to fuck with the sand and the prickly dune weeds. It was easier to stay by the pool. I had climbed out, stuck my head back inside the house and hollered, making sure Jill or mom hadn't returned looking for their sun screen or favorite hat or some shit. Satisfied, I returned to the pool deck and stretched out on one of the lounge chairs.

I stroked my lengthening cock beneath my trunks for a few minutes before deciding to play it a little safer. I pulled the chair back far enough so that if they came home earlier than expected, the first thing they saw stepping out onto the upper deck wouldn't be me jerking off. I straightened out the towel, dropped my trunks, and stretched out. One hand stroked my cock, the other stroked the belly I had worked so hard for. I wasn't in a hurry. I was horny but I was also enjoying the feel of the sun on my body. I rose up on one elbow and admired my cock. I love my cock. If that makes me a dick, well sorry. I had started shaving my body, everything, pits included. Bill, my brother, gave me shit about it. He was my size but a hairy fucker. I liked shaving my body. I liked it when my girlfriend shaved me even better but that was a thing of the past. Shaving made it easier to see the definition I had been focusing on, plus it made my cock look bigger. It was a nice size anyway, a little bigger than average, which means it was a little under seven inches. Of course I've measured it. Every dude that isn't a quadriplegic has measured his cock. The only difference was, I don't lie about what the ruler said. If I pushed the ruler deep enough into my pubis to fucking hurt I could call it an even seven. Yes, that is above average. The average cock is not ten inches or a foot or anywhere close. My parents, thank God, had told the doc to leave my dick alone. I got plenty of stares as a kid, still do, but I like the fact my cock is uncut.

The sun was hot but I wasn't worried about burning. I inherited mom's Italian genes. I tanned easily. My skin was the color of dark roast coffee with a little cream added. My cock was darker, my balls darker still. I had no tan lines.

There's an unofficial clothing optional beach near my college. I had been reluctant at first. Our household was not particularly uptight but we didn't run around flashing each other. We were five people in a small ranch house built in the fifties. There was only one bathroom. We saw each other, that's just the way it was. Bill and I used to torment Jill by waiting until she was in the shower to come in to take a leak. It was probably the fact we always farted while we took a piss that irritated her more than anything. Deliberately dropping trou is a totally different vibe than accidentally opening the door on your dad.

It didn't take long before I was hooked. The feeling I enjoyed the most was that of the sun and breeze drying your body. The one thing I missed since starting to shave my body was the feeling of water drops, trapped around a hair, drying, shrinking, and tickling as it evaporated. A puff of wind would cause a ripple of goose bumps, its cool touch quickly giving way to the heat of the sun. Ninety-two million miles away and its light felt hot. It could burn you. The fact boggled my mind. When you got too hot, there was the lake. The beach was sandy and free of stones. Unless it was crowded, you could run and dive into the water so fast you were surfacing before your skin realized the water was cold.

Floating nude in the water was a smorgasbord of sensations - the sun on the parts of your body out of the water, the cool kiss of the lake on the parts below the water, the lap of a wave touching sun warmed skin, the breeze, the way slightly larger waves would roll your cock from one side to the other - all of it happening in random patterns, over and over. It was a celebration of being alive in a world, which while it was totally fucked up, could still amaze you, if only you let it.

Enjoying the world with your skin was, for me at least, like meditation or going to church. It was not erotic. In fact, openly erotic behavior would lead to being shunned. The beach was cherished, none of the regulars, and there were quite a few of us, would risk letting it be degraded into a random hook-up spot.

But I wasn't at the beach today. I was beside a pool, behind a rental house, enjoying my first bit of privacy since I graduated. I was happy to mentally thank Nature or God or whatever for the glorious day, but my primary objective was to stroke one out. I was fucking horny, hornier than I had been for months. Long before the sun had dried my body, my cock was standing off my belly.

I repeated an instinctual glance back at the house and settled in. Most of the time the only lube I need is my own spit but sometimes, like now, I wanted a more intense sensation. On such an occasion I recommend any number of fragrance-free moisturizing hand or body lotions. Pump action bottles are more convenient, no need to open and close caps.

I squirted two pumps into the palm of my right hand and spread it over my cock. The cool lotion on my warm cock made me shiver. I stroked myself a few times then paused to squirt some lotion in my left hand. I began to stroke my cock, hand over hand. One hand would be sliding over the crown, tugging at my foreskin, as the other began to glide up from the base, over and over. I put the soles of my feet together and let my knees fall open, allowing the stroking to jostle my balls, yet another sensation to rattle my brain.

It didn't take long. My hips began to buck, the lounge chair started to skitter across the concrete deck and cum began to fling itself from my cock. The first few streamers landed in my hair (I didn't shave my head), on my cheek, and on my shoulder. My eruption walked itself home, lacing my chest and my belly, finally pooling around the fingers that squeezed my foreskin tightly over the crown of my cock.

I collapsed back onto the lounge chair, reminding myself to make sure there was no jizz on the chair or on the deck and to not fucking fall asleep. I wasn't too worried about my parents but my sibs and Jim were a totally different matter. If they caught me sleeping naked with liquefying jizz running down my sides I would never fucking escape the shit they'd heave at me.

I reminded myself that this was the moment I was most likely to get busted. Every male from adolescence on knows that if someone is going to walk in on you, it'll be just after you jizzed all over yourself. I stood up, saw several trails of white on the chair and beneath it. I pick up the large Big Gulp cup that was so old and so faded you could barely make out the 7-11 logo anymore and splashed water over the evidence. I intended to rid my body of the evidence by taking another dip in the pool. It was as I turned toward the pool that I discovered I wasn't as alone as I had thought.

I'm old enough to understand that the best course upon fearing you've been busted is to not react. If you don't react there's a chance the person might not realize you've seen them. Being able to pretend you hadn't just gotten busted was almost as good as not getting busted in the first place. Besides, being able to pretend you hadn't gotten busted was about all you could hope to salvage from some situations. Jerking off beside the pool under the watchful eye of your neighbor was one of those situations. Understanding what to do in situations such as the one I found myself in is a necessary but not sufficient condition for dealing with it well.

James Bond or Jason Bourne would have completed their casual turn and strolled leisurely toward the pool, stopping to gaze at the flawless blue sky before executing a splash free entry into the pool. Whereupon they would glide underwater the length of the pool, a wide angle shot capturing the watery distortions of their perfect bodies. They would exit the pool, delts and pecs bulging as they hoisted their bodies out of the water. Wet hair would be pushed back from their faces with arms thrown wide, backs arched, heads tilted skyward, and eyes closed. The joy of basking in the sun would pale in comparison to the joy of basking in the approving gazes of their adoring fans.

Me? Not so much. I jumped like I'd been stabbed in the ass with a fork. I'm pretty sure I didn't squeal. I took a short stumbling run for the pool and entered the water in more of a belly flopping fashion than a lithe head-tucked-arrow-like fashion. The idea of staying at the bottom until my lungs filled with chlorinated and now semenated (Semenated not at word? Fuck you, malleability is the lifeblood of the English language) pool water was more a passing fancy than a seriously pondered option. I did stay down as long as I could. I let the air bubble out of my lungs. You can stay down a few seconds longer doing that. On the downside, you surface gasping for air, which isn't a very effective means of not drawing attention to yourself.

When I blinked the water out of my eyes, she was still standing on the upper deck of the house next door. She looked worried, then bemused before she turned and walked inside.

I let my head hang down between my arms and told myself it was no big deal. In another twelve days I'd never see the woman again in my life. I was hoisting myself out of the water when my brother and Jim walked out onto the deck. Behind them, in the dark inside the house, I could see Jill as well. Before I could make up my mind whether to slip back into the pool and ask Bill to toss me my trunks or make a run for them, Jim jerked his tee shirt off, shucked his shorts and skipped over the scorching cement to dive into the pool. He surfaced with a shake of his head.

"Bout time someone figure out what the hell a pool is for," he offered and slowly then did a head out of the water breaststroke to the far end. I looked back at Bill. He shrugged, stripped and joined us. I admit I was a little surprised but like I said, I knew for most people nudity was not about sex. So, I shrugged myself and dipped my head backward into the water to get it off my face. I rubbed the water out of my eyes and saw that Jill was standing by the side of the pool.

"Hey, kiddo. You slaughter everyone as usual?" I asked in as conversational tone as I could manage. It wasn't that difficult. All she could see was my chest and she had seen that plenty of times.

She hated when I called her kiddo but she refrained from pointing out that she had turned eighteen weeks ago and since I was only three and a half years older than her it was pretty fucking presumptuous of me to call her that. Instead, she grinned. Her grin gave me the answer. I turned to my brother and Jim.

"You two didn't bet her, did you?"

Bill snorted laughter, "I didn't. Bonehead wouldn't listen, though."

I shook my head at Jim, who was grimacing.

"How much she take you for, dude?"

"Twenty bucks," he said with a scowl. Bill splashed him in the face.

"Bullshit," he crowed. "Twenty bucks is what he lost on the game. He bet her an extra five for every hole she beat him."

"How many holes did she win?"

"Fucking all of them," Bill cried, splashing his friend whose scowl had been replaced by a rueful grin of respect aimed at my sister.

"Holy shit, dude. You lost another 90 bucks? You mean you drop a bill ten on putt-putt?" I asked him.

He nodded.

"Quit whining," Jill's voice floated down from above us. "I told him I'd buy him dinner and a beer at the Shack."

"You aren't old enough to buy beer, kiddo," I reminded her.

"Quit calling me that. I can't order it but I can add the cash to the check, butthead."

"Sorry, kiddo but he's not old enough to drink. You're still fucked." I waited a second. "Kiddo."

She slipped her sandals off. She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head and then slipped her shorts off. No biggie, she had her bikini on underneath. Looking back now, I don't believe she hesitated even a moment. She reached behind her back and her bikini top slid off her arms. She hooked her thumbs under the top of her bikini bottoms and pushed them over her hips. They fell to the ground and she stepped out of them. I tried not to stare. It wasn't the first time I had caught a glimpse of Jill naked but she had been younger then and those glimpses were just that, glimpses snatched as she screamed and lunged for a towel. This was not a glimpse. She stood, unselfconsciously, nude. At some point while I was away and not paying attention she had turned into a babe. She had nice breasts. The white patches covered by her bikini top made her nipples look as dark as her tanned skin. I noticed she had only a small trapezoid patch of hair left above her pussy before I caught myself and looked away.

Bill was looking at the water. Jim was looking at my sister. The rueful smile had been replaced by a more thoughtful look. I glanced back at my sister. By some alchemy of sun and water, the rueful smile had been transferred from Jim's face to hers. It was too much to process all at once. I turned and rested my back against the tiled wall of the pool. Forgoing a dive she walked into the pool using the steps, trailing her hand. I thought she was a bit too obviously trying to imitate a Hollywood starlet with the slow walk, exaggerated sway of her hips, and dainty hand trailing over the stair railing. Jim, however, did not appear to mind the affectations, quite the opposite. Nudity among family members was almost never erotic but, I reminded myself, Jim was not family. She ducked beneath the water, swam to the other end, surfaced, and did that low gravity pool hop back to where the three of us stood. I tried very hard not to notice the way her breasts bobbed when she did that. The three of us dudes were suddenly very quiet.

She rolled her eyes and splashed us. "Get over it, morons," she snapped and splashed us again.

That was all it took. Arms started flailing and water began to fly. Alliances formed only to quickly fall by the wayside. Jill and I would gang up on Bill and Jim would join us. The bonds of blood would awake and the three of us would target Jim. The bonds of bro-hood would call and the three of us would practically drown Jill in wave after wave of water.

"Are you all naked?"

A mother's voice does not need to be very loud, somehow it cuts through the even the loudest of laughs, screams and splashing water.