The beach

The afternoon sun fell like liquid fire over the nudist beach of the dunes. I had been there for several hours already, completely naked, letting the heat tan my skin and the looks of other men roam over me without concealment. I felt free, exposed, with my penis semi-erect from the simple excitement of the atmosphere. But fatigue was starting to take its toll. I decided to go back to the car, which I had left in the makeshift parking area behind the tall rocks that marked the edge of the zone.

I walked along the hot sandy path, my towel hanging over my shoulder, my body still shining with sweat and sunscreen. My buttocks moved with every step, and I could feel some men following me with their eyes. I didn’t pay them much attention. I just wanted to get to the car, drink cold water, and perhaps masturbate while thinking about everything I had seen.

Then I saw him.

He was leaning against one of the large rocks, at the edge of the path that led to the parking area. Tall, muscular, sun-browned skin, short hair and three-day stubble. Completely naked too. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick even at rest, with a piercing in the glans that shone under the sun. He looked me straight in the eyes and, without saying a word, raised his hand and made a clear gesture with his index finger: come here.

I stopped for a second, my heart beating faster. There was something in his gaze, something dark and dominant that made me hesitate. But I kept walking, trying to pass by. I didn’t get far.

As soon as I was level with him, his large, strong hand grabbed my shoulder with brutal force. His fingers dug into my skin.

“Where do you think you’re going, fucking faggot?” he growled in a hoarse voice.

Before I could answer, he shoved me down violently. My knees hit the sand. I tried to protest, but he already had his other hand on the back of my neck, gripping my hair firmly. His cock, which had started to harden within seconds, struck my cheek.

“Open your mouth.”

He didn’t wait. He forced my lips apart and shoved it in all the way to the back of my throat. I felt the cold piercing brush my tongue and then press deep inside. It was huge. Thick, veined, with a salty taste of sweat and sea. I immediately started gagging, my eyes filling with tears.

He didn’t stop. He began fucking my throat with short, brutal movements, holding my head with both hands as if I were a toy. His heavy balls slapped against my chin.

“That’s it, swallow, fucking faggot. The whole thing.”

I gurgled, drooled, a thread of saliva running down my chest. My hands tried to push against his thighs, but it was useless. He was much stronger. He fucked my mouth mercilessly, in and out, forcing me to breathe only when he pulled out almost completely and then thrust back in until my nose was crushed against his shaved pubis.

“Good fucking faggot… look how yo...