Disclaimer
Years ago, I had a van, and I surfed the spots aound Santa Cruz, and I had a group of fourteen-year-olds that hung out with me. That's all I'll say about that. This story is fantasy.
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Surfing USA
Surfing USA
"You're good," the kid told me as I was carrying my surfboard to my van.
"Thanks, Kid. I try."
"No, you are good. You're really good."
I smiled and tousled his hair. He was cute, and I wanted an excuse to touch him. He looked about eleven or twelve.
"This is your van?" he asked as I opened the door to put away my board. He had followed me to it.
"Yep."
"Are you going to sleep in it tonight, or are you going home?"
"Why?'
"I -- I thought I might stay with you in it, if you were. I don't have any place to stay tonight."
"You don't? Don't you live around here?"
"N -- no. I sort of ran away from home. I came here because I love surfing, and Steamer Lane has the biggest surf in California, waves sometimes twenty-five feet high. Have you ever ridden a twenty-five-footer?"
"A few times," I said.
"Was it scary?"
"Fucking scary. The wave reforms and breaks again on those boulders put down to keep the road from washing away. See this scar?" I showed him the scar just beneath my hairline on my forehead. "A wave picked me up and drove me head-first into them."
"Fuck!" he said. "Did it knock you out?"
"No, but it made me woozy, and I kind of collapsed when I got back up to the road. Someone called an ambulance and they took me to the hospital where they sewed up my head the best they could. I was all right otherwise, though, no concussion or anything like that."
"Will you let me stay with you?"
"How old are you?"
"Twelve."
"You sure? You don't look twelve. You got hair yet?" I don't know why I asked him that, except that boys without hair turn me on.
"I'll be twelve in a few months."
Yeah, about eleven months, I thought.
"I don't have hair yet, but my dick has grown, and I can spurt."
"Well, I'm not sure I wanted that much information," I said, but actually it was good information, and I was getting turned on by the kid. He was fucking cute, and I had a thing for eleven to twelve-year-olds.
"Well, you asked if I had hair, so I thought you did. If you let me spend the night with you, I'll suck your cock."
"You're a little young to be sucking cock, aren't you? How long have you been doing it?"
"Since I was ten. I've been told I'm pretty good at it."
"What makes you think I'd let you suck my cock?"
"I don't know. Sometimes, I just know when someone will let me. I sort of thought you would."
"Sounds like you've sucked a lot of cock."
"I like sucking cock," he said. "I like doing other things, but I only do them with special guys."
"Am I a special guy?"
"Yeah," he said. "You want me. You have a hard-on."
I did. Glancing down, I saw the bulge in my tight-fitting wetsuit.
"You'll let me spend the night with you, won't you?"
Against my better judgement, I said, "Okay." This kid could be real. trouble, but he had me turned on, and I did want his sweet mouth wrapped around my cock. Hell, he offered, didn't he? How could I turn the poor kid down? Even if I offered to let him spend the night without blowing me, I knew my dick would be in his mouth -- and probably elsewhere -- before the night was over. He said I was special, and I wondered if my being special would entitle me to have my dick up his ass?" Guess I'd find out.
I put my board into the van, took off my wetsuit, and tossed it in, climbing in after it. He followed me, and I closed the door, and took off my wet swim trunks, exposing my hard dick. He dropped to his knees and blew me while we were parked beside the road with cars whizzing by. Luckily my curtains were drawn, and no one could see inside. I would have fucked him right then and there, but the sound of the passing cars made me nervous. After I spurted, figuring a load of spunk wasn't enough to satisfy any hunger pangs he might have and besides, I was hungry so I asked, "You hungry?"
"Fucking starving. I've been raiding the dumpster behind a 7-11, and they don't put shit in there until after closing. Someone beat me too it last night. I haven't eaten all day, except for a candy bar I scammed off a kid."
"You steal if from him?"
"Not exactly. I talked him into giving it to me."
You talked him into giving it to you?"
"I blew him for it, okay?"
"You blew someone for a fucking candy bar?"
"Well, that and a dollar."
"You sell yourself cheap, Kid"
"He was hot, and I wanted to blow him. The candy bar was just an excuse."
Well, he'd been quick enough to blow me. We stopped at a Taco Bell where he had an enchilada plate and a coke, and I had a couple of burritos with a coke also. The fucker was still hungry, so I bought him a couple of tacos, and he got a refill on his coke.
"Where we going to sleep?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. I've got a couple of spots. We could stay in the parking lot of an all-night grocery store or I know a place out of town that's more private. Maybe, we should stay there."
"Cool with me," he said.
A little north of Santa Cruz was a mostly deserted beach. I sometimes parked there, and no one had ever bothered me. We drove there and made a campfire on the beach with some driftwood. I had some pot, and I rolled a joint, took a toke, and passed it to him. From the toke he took off it, he'd smoked pot before, but what surfer kid hadn't? Pot and surfing go together like rum and coke. Before long, both of us were high. He moved closer to me, and when he reached for my cock, l let him. When he reached for the waistband of my swim trunks, I raised my butt and let him pull them down. When he lowered his mouth to my cock, I let him. He took it into his hot, wet, mouth. It wasn't long before I squirted into that hot, wet, mouth; then is was my turn to pull down his shorts. He wasn't wearing underwear, and his dick, a four-incher I figured, was pointing toward the sky. I returned the favor and blew him. He spurted into my mouth. Although he didn't have hair, his dick functioned just fine, and as I was to find out, his balls contained a full magazine of spunk. The kid could cum time and time again.
Without asking, I pushed him back on the sand and soon had my dick up his ass fucking him there on the beach beside the campfire. He'd blown guys before, and he'd been fucked before. I wasn't getting no virgin, but he was still a sweet piece. I fucked him a couple more times with him jacking off while I fucked him. It had been a while since I'd fucked a kid, and I was loving it.
We smoked another joint and got into the van to go to sleep.
I awoke with him on top of me guiding my hard dick to his hole. I got to admit, I can't think of a better way to wake up in the morning. I fucked him a couple of times; then, I blew him. He hadn't asked to fuck me, and I hadn't volunteered. Under other circumstances I would have, but I thought we should keep it on an I fuck you basis. Kids get cocky when you let them put their cocks up your ass. You can suck their cocks without them thinking much about it, but when you let them fuck you, they think they own you. Many of them find out they like being on top.
This beach wasn't the best surfing place around, but there was a little shore break, so I let him use my spare board, and we went surfing. He wasn't much good at it, but after an hour of trying, he managed to catch a wave and was so stoked, you would have thought he had ridden a forty-foot wave on Oahu's North Shore.
Hell, I guess I felt that way when I caught my first wave.
We packed it in and drove back to Santa Cruz, stopped at a Denney's, and had breakfast. He ordered their Strawberries & Cream Pancake Breakfast, and I had a Grand Slam with a three-egg omelet, pancakes and ham. He had a coke to drink, and I had coffee.
The surfing was lousy, so we parked in a secluded spot, smoked some weed and fucked when we were good and high. Pot might or might not be addictive, but I was becoming addicted to fucking him. I supposed he'd want to leave someday, but I hoped it wouldn't be for a while.
He'd been with me for a couple of days when I ran into an old surf-fuck-buddy of mine, Sam Stevens. Nothing special now, but there once had been. Once in a while we had a little casual sex, only it was his dick that found its way up my ass. He had fucking eight inches, and he thought that gave him the right to be the one who was on top fucking. He was also older than me, twenty-eight or so, while I was nineteen, and he had fucked me off and on since I was fifteen. He was the actually the first guy to fuck me. I had blown a kid a few times and had let an older guy blow me once, but he was the first one to fuck me. Shit! I thought that eight-inch cock of his was going to split me apart. His is still the biggest cock I've had up me. You can imagine how huge it seemed to a fifteen-year-old who didn't have quite six inches.
We did a fist-bump and a bro-hug. "Long-time no see, Zach," he said.
"I've been here, Man. It's you that hasn't been around. Where you been?"
"Down Baja way."
"Surfing? I hear the surfing ain't so hot down there."
"The surfing ain't, but the boys are."
"Mexican?"
"Them and some California kids that find their way down. Get them high, and you can have your way with them."
"Yeah, and being Mr. Surfing USA doesn't hurt. Seems I remember you getting a fifteen-year-old high and having your way with him."
"Fuck, Man. You liked it. You came back for more."
"Yeah, but it took a month for my asshole to close properly."
"You got to where you liked it."
"You could have let me do you once in a while," I said.
"You know me," he said. "I'm a fucking top. No one does me. What are you doing down here at Cowell's, anyway? The waves here are for babies."
"I'm teaching a kid how to surf," I said, knowing I'd just made a major mistake.
"A kid, huh? How old a kid?"
"Don't get any ideas," I said.
"Man, I wouldn't horn in and try to steal your fuckboy."
"I didn't say I was fucking him."
"Don't bullshit the bull-shitter. You're fucking him. Now, how old is he?"
"Eleven," I said.
"Eleven! No shit? Sweet! When do I get to meet this sweet boy?"
Against my better judgement, but I didn't know a polite way to get out of it, I pointed out the kid, sitting out on my old board waiting for a wave. When he caught one, he rode it straight in, not turning to go with the break and cutting some guy off, a strict violation of surfing ethics. That would be one pissed-off dude because it had been a good wave.
Well, if that were to happen, it would happen at Cowell's where the beginners hang out.
The kid lost it when the wave closed out on him and his board came into shore without him. He swam in after it.
"Fuck me!" said Sam as the kid walked in and picked up his board. "He is fucking cute. Where did you find him? Call him over. I want to meet him."
"Only if you promise not to put any moves on him," I said.
"Me?" he said with a fake look of shock on his face. "Would I do that?"
"In a fucking heartbeat."
"I wouldn't make a move on your on your fuckboy."
"Like hell, you wouldn't. Just don't. Okay?"
Even at twenty-eight, Sam was a stud, a fucking Greek god, Adonis in the flesh. He still gave me a stiff one, and at fifteen, I had thought he was a god. He was THE top-notch surfer -- I still wasn't half the surfer he was -- and I had idolized him. Fuck! I still do I guess. He got me high that first time he fucked me, but he could have got me in bed without getting me high. I had a hard-on for him the first moment I saw him. Shit! I still do. When he dumped me I thought I was going to die; didn't know how I could live without him.
I beckoned the kid with a come here gesture, and he picked up his board and walked toward us. When he got close, his mouth dropped open. "Fuck!" he said. "You're Sam Stevens." Sam had been in several surfing movies and got interviewed all the time.
"Sure am," said Sam, "and what's your name, sweet boy?"
His mouth still open and his eyes bugging out, the boy stammered, "La-La-Logan," and I knew right then that Sam had stolen the kid away from me. He would have his dick up the boy's ass before the day was over.
Sam had a condominium right on the beach not far from Cowell's, and he invited us over. Looking at the kid's face, I knew he was going whether I did or not, so I said, "Sure," and after putting our stuff in my van, we walked down the beach to his place and rode the elevator up to his digs.
Once inside, he made us some drinks, laid out some lines of coke, rolled up a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the kid to use to snort the coke. Most people use dollar bills but not Sam. We all snorted a line of coke, after which Sam handed the kid the rolled-up bill, and said, "Keep it."
"No shit?" Logan said.
"It's yours," said Sam.
He laid out another set of lines, pealed another hundred off a roll of them, rolled it up, snorted the line and handed the bill to me. It was good fucking coke, but Sam would only have the best. I snorted my line before handing the bill to Logan. When he went to hand it back to Sam, the fucker once again told him to keep it. Another line for each of us and another hundred for Logan, probably more money than the kid ever had. I couldn't compete with Sam. I didn't have the money, the looks, and I wasn't the surfing super star in the room. Sam had won surfing championships in Hawaii and in Australia. He was fucking Mr. Surfing USA himself. The best I'd done was to win some local contests, ones no one would travel to compete in.
Before I knew it -- I was fucked up by then -- we all had our clothes off, and Sam had his big cock up Logan's ass. Logan who had obviously had bigger cocks than mine up his hole, took it fine, and from the way he moaned, "Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" I figured he was enjoying Sam's cock more than he had ever enjoyed mine. The little fucker even squirted onto his stomach without touching his cock. He never had when I had fucked him, not without jacking himself off, he hadn't.
Sam fucked him again and then, he fucked me, "For old times-sake," he said. I fucking squirted onto my stomach. Only Sam could make me do that. I hated to give him the satisfaction of seeing me do it, but it did feel so good to have him fucking me that I couldn't help it.
After doing more coke and staying up all night, I fell asleep, waking up sometime that night. Sam was up puttering around the kitchen. "Haven't you been to bed?" I asked.
"Nope," he said.
"Where's Logan?"
"In my bed," said Sam. "Guess he'll be staying with me. Sorry about that."
"Just bring him back to me once you're done with him. Don't trade him off to someone for another boy."
"What makes you think I'll tire of him. He is sweet."
"You always tire of a boy, Sam. I didn't last a week with you before you had kicked me out and had another boy in my place, and I was better looking than he was. You just aren't satisfied unless you're fucking some new stuff. If you had your way, you'd fuck every boy over the age of ten in both California and Hawaii."
He grinned: "Don't forget Australia; some cute boys in Australia; and Mexico, don't forget Mexico."
I shook my head. "Fuck you, Sam."
"Don't be pissed at me. It's just how I am."
"Sam...I've been around you long enough to know that. I knew as soon as you saw Logan I had lost him. Just promise you'll give him back when you're through with him.":
"Okay," he said.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
I got dressed and left without saying goodbye to Logan. Sam slipped me $500. I was living on a trust fund my dad had set up for me before he died, and it paid me less than $1500 a month. Feeding both Logan and me had been rapidly draining my bank account, so I took it.
One day, a little under a week later, after surfing some big waves at Steamer Lane. I got out of the water to find Logan standing by my van with a new surfboard, new wetsuit, and a duffle of new clothes. No doubt, he also had a pocketful of money.
"Sorry," he said, when he saw me. "It's just that he is Sam Stevens, Mr. Surfing USA himself. Can I come back?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Really? You're not mad?"
"How can I be mad, Logan? Hell, if he had asked me to come live with him and leave you behind, I would have. I did it once when I was fifteen and I didn't last any longer with him than you have. No boy has. It's not about you; it's all about Sam. I'm not even mad at him. It's just the way he is. Nobody can stay mad at Sam for long."
We spent that night on the deserted beach north or Santa Cruz, the same one where we'd spent our first night together, only this time, we slept and fucked under the stars. I even let him fuck me. After having Sam's eight-inch cock up me, his four inches weren't much, but it was a big deal for him, like catching that first wave was a big deal. It was his first time to be on top, the one doing the fucking.