Date: Fri, 5 Aug 2011 08:25:30 -0700 (PDT) From: Greg Sullivan Subject: Vacation at Sandy Hook Copyright 2011 by Green Eye Guy. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to Nifty Archives, to archive and display this work. All other uses are expressly forbidden unless explicit arrangement has been made with the author. This copyright applies to all chapters and pages of this work. It may not be reproduced, posted, stored electronically, or archived, except for personal, non-public use, without the express written permission of the author. DISCLAIMER: This story is fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidence and is not intended by the author. This work contains homoerotic and sexual behavior between males and may not be legal for reading or publication depending on local or national laws. Therefore the reader is forewarned to read at their own risk. Vacation at Sandy Hook By Green Eye Guy, 2011 I stepped out of my hotel room in Atlantic City and looked down the long corridor toward the elevator lobby. In truth, it wasn't just a hotel; it was a casino, one of the big glitzy ones along the infamous boardwalk. The room was comfortable and had all of the amenities I'd hoped for, though the view toward the city was not as spectacular as those looking out over the mighty Atlantic. The hallway was quiet at this hour. The late night gamblers were sleeping off their booze hazes and spoils in the rooms of the 11th floor. It was 8:12 AM, far from daybreak in the New Jersey summer months, but for the high rollers and their acquaintances, it might as well have been the middle of the night. I was visiting New Jersey for the first time since my childhood. You see, my name is Jake Boyd, and I'm a high school literature teacher from Ohio in a small town outside of Dayton. The exact town doesn't really matter; it was like every other suburb in the state, dull and predictable. My career was the one shining light in my life. I loved literature with a passion, and as luck would have it, I was assigned the junior and senior year students. Each day, we read through moderately advanced stories and dissected them, piece by piece, word by word, seeking their deeper meanings. I'd only graduated college a year ago myself. Fortunately, I studied hard and worked even harder, landing top honors from a well-known institution on the West Coast. That's why I was able to land such a lucrative job so quickly, albeit in the styx. I was only a few years older than most of my students, and to differentiate myself from the student body, I grew a short, scruffy beard during the school months. But the minute school let out for the summer and the students headed out for vacations and months of fun, I would wander over to the men's room and quickly shave it off. So this clean-shaven high school literature teacher, vacationing in the Garden State, found himself free and clear for a few weeks. Keys in hand, I walked toward the lobby. Today was going to be a beach day for me, something I missed from my college days in sunny California, and I was dressed for the occasion. A light blue t-shirt hugged my lightly defined chest. For my first day on the beach, I picked out a pair of chocolate board shorts that fit me perfectly. And the dark brown leather flip flops on my feet were comfortable and ideal for treading across hot outdoor surfaces without burning the soles of my feet. A messenger bag was slung over my right shoulder, holding a few books, some sun block, a towel and two frozen water bottles. As they melted, I'd sip the cool water and rehydrate on the sand. I was the only person in the lobby when I pressed the button hailing the elevator. A moment later, the doors slid open and I stepped inside, not noticing the young man in the corner at first. He must have been around my age, and he'd clearly had a long night out. His scruffy chin was in need of a shave, and his clothes were ruffled from a late night party. He was rubbing his eyes and breathing heavily but slowly, slumped against the corner of the car. "Going down?" he said to me, his voice warbling and slightly scratchy. "I wish," I thought, taking in his ungroomed masculine image. It was pleasant; back in Ohio, a lot of the young men were either farmers or rebels, leaving the upper middle class for other wealthier areas of the country. "Yes," I finally replied with a smile. "Heading out to enjoy this beach day. Yourself?" "I've got some unfinished business with the slots," he said, a dry humor to his tone. "It was a rough one yesterday, and I don't intend to get fucked twice in a row." I smiled politely, enjoying the second double entendre in a row. We parted ways at the ground floor lobby. He wandered toward the sparkling, ringing floor; I headed toward the garage where my rental car was parked. I'd arrived yesterday, a Wednesday, and the garage was nearly empty. I managed to pick up one of the spots closest to the garage entrance, a treat. Inside the sedan, I pulled the GPS out from underneath the passenger seat. From my messenger bag, I retrieved a folded piece of paper with an address on it. Fumbling for a moment, my fingers punched the address into the GPS: 210 Route 36, Sea Bright, NJ. It wasn't exact, but it was the closest I could pull up on Google Maps. For all of my teenage life in rural Ohio, I'd dreamed of visiting Sandy Hook, NJ. The thought of sunbathing nude just a stone's throw from Manhattan thrilled and excited me, and I was looking forward to finally crossing it off my bucket list. Now, I'm no supermodel, but I would definitely consider myself handsome. I'm 5'8", around 145 pounds and trim with some muscle definition in my abs. I shave most of my body hair, leaving just a trimmed patch above my cock and two small tufts under my armpits. Though my spiky brown hair is somewhat dark, the lighters hairs on my legs and arms are barely visible. And, of course, there's my cock. I probably wouldn't be anything spectacular in the world of porn, but I'm proud of my 8 inches. The large head is cut, dangling down by a low set of medium-sized balls. I'm more of a show-er than a grower, but I like my equipment. You could even say I embrace it-it's nothing to be ashamed of, and frankly, I could imagine worse. If you hadn't guessed by now, I'm gay. I'd never had a boyfriend, though there were a few one-night stands in college. They never really went very far. I made out with another guy from my dorm once, but we didn't shed any clothes in the process. Another time, a younger student volunteered to give me a blowjob. I graciously accepted, enjoying the feeling of his lips and tongue servicing my cock and balls. And one time, after a rare night of drinking, I went home with a guy I met at a bar and we 69-ed for a few hours. The experiences were great, but I never really felt a strong connection to go further with any of the guys. I followed the GPS' route up the Parkway, heading north toward Sandy Hook and Gunnison Beach. Passing Barnegat, Toms River and a few other towns, I finally saw my exit for Route 36. I took it, following it all the way to Ocean Boulevard. Beyond a row of businesses and houses, I could see the ocean glistening, beckoning for a dip. Finally, I pulled up to the park. The wait wasn't terrible since it was the middle of the week; there were two cars ahead of me paying the admission price to enter. Finally, I pulled up and handed the ranger a crisp bill. He nodded and smiled, motioning me to enter. The park was nothing like I'd imagined it. Surrounded by scrub pines, tall grasses and holly bushes, the side of the road looked more like an untouched nature preserve than a busy beach. The trail up the proverbial "hook" was a gorgeous drive, and I took it all in. Finally, after several minutes, I saw the large wooden signs indicating where to park for Gunnison Beach. I followed them to a sandy lot, about half filled with all types of cars. Sporty convertibles, rugged pick-ups, minivans and motorcycles filled many of the rows. I took a spot in one of the middle rows and opened my door, inhaling the briny breeze that greeted me. Bag in-hand, I made my trek across the lot toward the trail. It crossed a small bog and a forested area. In the thicket, birds chirped and squirrels dashed from log to log, gathering food. The worn wood boards creaked with each step. Then, a moment or two later, I crossed the access road and found myself entering the beach area. In the distance, sunbathers and swimmers were visible. There wasn't any point wearing my flip flops at this point; they sandwiched piles of sand between the shoe and my foot, making it hard to walk and kicking up clouds of debris. I slipped them off and tucked them into my bag, continuing my journey toward the water. As the beachgoers grew closer, their nude bodies were unmistakable. The first that came into view was a middle-aged woman, her hair neatly tied back. She wore nothing as she plodded around the beach, smiling and talking to passerby. She smiled in my direction, and I returned with a nod. The first section was mixed with many women, but the further into the crowd I wandered, the more men I began seeing. Finally, at the edge of the group and near a small dune, I placed my bag on the ground and surveyed the landscape. There was an older man sleeping in a chair not far from my spot, and to my left, a younger male couple were laying on their front sides, their perfectly tan, round bottoms in plain sight. A few other men were spread out between me and the ocean, but it was far from crowded. Fishing through my bag, I pulled out the towel and spread it on the sand. It provided some relief from the already warm earth. Next, I plopped my sun block on the towel and peeled off my shirt, tucking it away in the bag. My goal was to keep as much sand out of the bag as possible, though it was clear that I was fighting a losing battle. Wearing only my board shorts, I started lathering up my face, arms, torso and legs with the lotion. The excitement was building; I'd never been nude in a public place, save for the occasional gym shower, and butterflies filled my chest. For now, I'd remain modest, hoping that the sun's warm rays would encourage me to take the plunge. Reading for a few minutes, I quickly grew bored thinking about my teenage fantasies of visiting the nude beach. I compromised; first, I'd take a walk down to the water's edge in my suit. Then, when I came back, I'd shuck it and go natural. It was settled. The walk down to the water felt like it took forever. When I finally reached the surf, the cool water enveloped my ankles, making me cringe. Being relatively early in the season, the water hadn't yet had a chance to warm up. It certainly wasn't like California's warm beaches, but it wasn't dangerously chilly either. I stepped in a few feet, letting the water lap at the bottom of my shorts. For a few minutes I stood there, gazing over the ocean and looking toward the big city of New York. It was surreal; finally, I was here. When my legs couldn't take it anymore, I headed back toward my towel. The crowd remained unchanged; one of the guys in the couple to my left had turned over, revealing a 5-inch cut cock and a lightly furry chest. He was beautiful, glistening there in the sun in all his glory. Finally, sitting back on my towel, I realized that it was time. I stood back up, slowly, and took a swig of water. After a deep breath, I reached down and tugged on the drawstrings of the board shorts, undoing the loose knot easily. The strings came apart quickly, leaving the elastic alone to protect my modesty. Slowly, I hooked a thumb under the waistband on either side, letting my short nails scratch against my skin. Breathing deeply, I began pushing my arms straight down, taking my brown board shorts with them. The very top of my pubes came into view, experiencing daylight for the first time. My hidden skin was paler than I imagined it would be, creating a striking contrast against my tanned chest. I pushed further until my entire butt was exposed. Still, only my pubes and the very base of my cock were visible. Then, with one last breath, I made another tug and revealed most of my shaft, leaving only my cock head hidden. With one final thrust, the shorts tumbled to the ground, leaving me entirely, completely and fully nude for all to see. The stripping felt like it took hours, but in reality, was over in just a few seconds. No one seemed to notice, though one man about ten yards away had been watching intently in my direction from behind his sunglasses. He smiled before turning his graying head back toward the sea. Shorts off, I tucked the unnecessary garment into my bag and lay myself down on the towel, sunning my backside first. It felt liberating to finally be nude on the beach, and I enjoyed it immensely. I picked up my book, a renewed sense of interest, and read for a few minutes. Wanting to soak it all in, I then turned over, revealing my full self. I didn't stop reading as I twisted, enjoying how natural the experience felt. For the first time since seeing the nude woman at the entrance to the beach, I smiled. This went on for a good 45 minutes or so. A goofy grin over my face, I read my book and took in the rays. It was pure bliss, and I couldn't have asked for a better vacation. It seemed that naturism suited me quite nicely. At one point, a shadow creeped over my face, blocking out the sunlight over the upper half of my body. I turned and saw a young man, about 18, next to me. He wore large sunglasses and a pair of navy-colored trunks, lacking a shirt to cover his thin chest and stomach. His short brown hair was spiky like mine, fashioned into a short faux-hawk, and he had delicate features. His hands at his hips, a huge smile stretched across his face from ear to ear. The light glistened off of his straight, pearly teeth. "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Boyd," he said, grinning all the while, tsking his tongue. "And to think, I came to the beach expecting to see a lot of naked strangers. Who knew I'd find my literature teacher sunning himself instead?" Horrified, I recognized the voice. His name was Chase Flanagan, and true to his word, he had been one of my students from last semester. My mouth agape, he sat down next to me uninvited, burying his bottom in the sand, still bearing that grin. Stretching his legs and bare feet as far as they could go, he dug his palms into the sand and leaned back. Arching his head first back then quickly in my direction, he took in my whole body. "I think vacation just got a heck of a lot more interesting for both of us," he said. END OF PART 1. What do you think so far? Will Jake find this vacation as enjoyable as his young student, Chase? Or will he regret coming this far to fulfill his teenage fantasy? YOU have the power to shape this story-send your ideas, suggestions and thoughts to GreenEyeGuySmut@yahoo.com!