Fourth segment of “Winston Quirk”. What does Winston look like?

Hi, friends and readers:

A reader wrote me yesterday to ask, “Do you have a picture of a man who looks like Winston Quirk?”

Actually, I do. I’ve posted the photo at left. He’s a handsome guy, isn’t he? And the fact he’s aboard a sailboat makes him seem even more like Winston. I’ve often wondered where the photo was taken. California? Florida? Or maybe the Bahamas? Who knows?

It’s been a good day for me. Although my walk on the beach this morning was steamy, our visit to the YMCA was great. Lap-swimming in the pool felt delicious, and the shower afterward made everything just right. We’re so luck to have such a nice facility available.

We’re staying home tonight. We’ll grille a steak, watch sunset at the beach, and maybe watch Amadeus, our new Netflix rental.

Okay, everyone: here’s the fourth segment of Winston Quirk. As always, it comes with a caveat:

*This story contains graphic depictions of sexual activity between two adult males. If this sort of material offends you, or if you are under the age of eighteen years, you should not read Winston Quirk.

* * * *

Winston Quirk

Copyright Martin Delacroix, 2010

The coral reef Winston had spoken of lay east of an unoccupied cay, and we tied the boat to one of several mooring floats.

“We don’t want to damage the reef by dropping an anchor,” Winston explained.

From a locker, he produced snorkels, masks, and fins for both of us, and then we both got naked. My mouth grew sticky at the sight of Winston’s bratwurst cock, his walnut-sized testicles, and his melon-shaped buttocks. Sunlight reflected in his pubic hair. My thoughts returned to the previous evening when he’d fucked me into frenzy, and now I couldn’t help myself, I became erect.

Winston giggled when he saw my hard-on. He flicked it with a fingertip and it bobbed like a diving board. He sat in the cockpit, and I stood beside him. Looking up at me, he squinted in the brightness of the day. His lips parted into a smile, and he wagged a finger.

“You must behave, Dane; we’ve got snorkeling to do.”

I grinned back at him. “What about later? Can we make love again?”

He nodded. “I’ll look forward to it.”

A shiver ran up my spine when I thought of having sex with Winston in his sleeping cabin. I thought, What a treat; what a lucky guy I am. But then I thought, What would my friends back in Florida think if they knew? Me, an educated, middle class white guy getting fucked by a black man twelve years my junior? 

I was unprepared for the beauty of the reef. About one hundred yards in length and perhaps half that in width, it stood in forty feet of utterly clear water, looking like a multi-colored mountain rising from the ocean bottom. We jumped overboard, then glided along the surface of the water, looking down and sucking air through our snorkels, while our fins propelled us. We encountered a forest of Elkhorn coral, a purplish variety with jagged limbs thrusting in every direction, looking like a tangle of wind-tortured trees. A school of Queen angelfish, each the size of my hand, arranged themselves like a silvery cloud before us, seemingly undisturbed by our presence. The fishes’ spotted scales reflected sunlight while their canary-colored tails swayed.

We followed the reef’s outer edge. Leaving the Elkhorns behind us, we came upon a curious terrain: a hodgepodge of fire coral, undulating sea fans and anemone. Brain corals the size of washtubs, with cream-colored surfaces etched in meandering valleys, dotted this portion of the reef, looking like skulls from a race of ancient, underwater giants. Dappled sunlight illuminated the reef and gave it an ethereal look. I felt as though we had entered an alien universe.

A three-foot barracuda approached and inspected us, its pronounced jaw giving it a comical appearance. The barracuda followed us at a distance, with one eye fixed upon us.

Winston carried a “tickle stick” in one hand—a device with a loop at one end, used for capturing spiny lobsters. In his other hand he carried a dip net with an aluminum frame. He nudged my shoulder and motioned me to surface. Then we both stuck our heads out of the water and Winston spit out his mouthpiece.

“There’s a lobster down there,” he said, “underneath a ledge of finger coral. Watch and I’ll show you how the stick works.”

We both took a deep breath, then dove as quickly as we could, working our fins. I felt pressure in my ears as our depth increased. Winston pointed toward a pair of antennae protruding from the coral ledge. He positioned himself before the lobster’s hiding place, then used the stick to coax the wriggling creature into the net. The lobster was a bug-like crustacean, orange and brown in color, with multiple legs and no claws. The capture took less than ten seconds.

We rose to the surface and gulped air into our lungs while Winston held the lobster aloft in the net, grinning.

“One more like him,” he said, “and we’ll have a fine dinner.”

Winston had me wait at the reef while he swam to the sailboat and climbed aboard to deposit the lobster in a bucket. Moments later, he was back and we returned to the reef. Within ninety minutes, we had collected two more lobsters, and I felt tired. After showering on deck, we repaired to Winston’s sleeping cabin, our erect cocks bobbing before us. This time, Winston spent ten minutes licking my anus while I squirmed on the mattress, and goose bumps dotted my limbs.

My pucker burned when Winston entered me, it went into spasms. I sweated when Winston pumped my ass and our skins smacked each time he thrust inside me. I shouted like a crazy man when I came, flinging pearls of semen onto my chest and neck. All I could think was, My god, this is great. How I’ve missed this sort of intimacy.

Afterward, we lay on the sweat soaked sheets, listening to waves slush against the boat’s hull as it rocked from side to side.

“This is nice,” I said, my head resting on Winston’s chest. My cheek rose and fell with his breathing.

Winston said, “You’re very nice, Dane; I like you.”

“I feel the same,” I said.

“What’s it like, this town you live in?”

I described Gainesville and the university, how I lived in a two-bedroom house not far from campus.

Winston said, “It sounds nice. Perhaps I’ll come for a visit this fall.”

A vision of my Gainesville friends, seeing me and Winston together, entered my mind. I imagined them shaking their heads and making faces behind my back. (“Dane’s got a black boyfriend. Can you believe it?”)

I said, “Okay, maybe we can arrange that.”

Winston body tensed. He said, “You don’t sound too excited about it.”

I didn’t respond. I only thought, Uh-oh.

Winston said, “Dane, look at me.”

Winston’s forehead was furrowed and a vertical crease appeared between his eyebrows.

“What is it?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

I raised a shoulder. “My town’s a bit on the conservative side. I don’t know how people would react if they knew you and I ….”

“What?”

“Were boyfriends.”

Winston shifted his weight, while a frown crossed his face.

“Why? Because I’m a black man?”

I felt heat in my cheeks. I lowered my gaze and nodded.

“Your attitude surprises me,” Winston said. Rising from the mattress, he reached for a pair of Bermuda shorts that hung from a peg.

“Winston, don’t be angry. Gainesville’s a small town and people talk. I have my reputation to think of.”

Winston grimaced. “Reputation? As what, a racist?”

He stepped into his shorts and left the cabin. Moments later, I heard him climb the ladder leading to the deck.

I lay on my back, staring up through the open hatch at a fluffy cloud. The cloud’s whiteness stood in stark contrast to the azure Bahamian sky.

Shit, Barger, I told myself. You sure screwed that one up.

* * * *

Okay, folks, that’s all for today. I’ll post a fifth segment tomorrow. I hope you’re all enjoying Winston Quirk, and I hope you’ll have a nice Monday evening.

 

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