More guys on the beach; last installment of “Me and Shea” …

Hi, friends and readers:

Guys love the beach when the weather’s warm and sunny. It’s time to shed those clothes, put on those boardshorts, and soak up some rays. Plus, you never know who you might meet at the shore. All that sunshine and salt laden fresh air can make a guy horny. No wonder so many gys flock to my little island this time of year.

I’m back from my two-mile walk on the beach. It was nice down there. I hit the beach about 7:15 AM, so the temperature was still cool. I took a dip in the Gulf; it was calm and cool. What a great way to start my day. It’ll be a busy day for me and my b/f. We’re taking our bikes to a shop for service. Then we’ll play 18 holes of golf.

This will be a short post, since I must get busy, but I will leave you with yet another picture of a guy enjoying himself at the beach. I wonder what he looks like, behind those reflective shades?

Okay, here’s the last installment of Me and Shea: 

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Copyright Martin Delacroix, 2009

His hole was tight, it went into spasms when I entered him. Twice I had to pull out before he was able to relax and handle my penetration. I’d forgotten how delicious anal sex was: the thrusting, the strength and tension a man’s body offered. We both sweated and our skins smacked as we rocked on the mattress. Shea’s hand pumped his cock while he gazed at the ceiling, his lips parted, moonlight reflecting off his teeth. His breath huffed, as did mine.

My cock throbbed inside him and I flooded the condom with my seed. At the same time, Shea’s cock shot jizz onto his chest and belly, a series of spurts making his body jerk. He cried out my name and Jesus’ too.

I couldn’t help myself; I wept.

I remained inside Shea, holding him while my tears fell upon his neck. Life had been so lonely since Griffin’s departure, but now I sensed my sadness would lessen. I felt as if I’d taken a long and solitary journey, but now I’d returned home, to find Shea and all that he offered.

I held him tightly, kissing his cheek while our whiskers rubbed.

I whispered, “Thank you,” over and over again, like a mantra. Not just to the boy in my arms, but to God as well, for giving me a second chance.

I thanked Him for giving me Shea.

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That’s the whole story, friends. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll have a wonderful Thursday.

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