I mean no disrespect to the novel of the same title. It's a great book. There's no apocalypse in this story. All the characters are 18 or older. It started as a story about nudity and slipped away from me into a story of voyeurism and exhibitionism. There are family members involved but they do not have sex with each other, though there are clearly incestuous overtones. I hope you'll continue reading but if straight up incest is all that does the trick for you I suggest you try some of my other tales.
Thanks to LarryInSeattle for his editing help.
Enjoy. Vote. Comment.
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I tightened my abs, getting off on seeing the hard muscles. I'm not a narcissist, well not a total narcissist, anyhow. Those abs had taken a lot of effort and a lot of hours. I love watching them tighten when I cum. That was something I hoped to be doing soon. It was hot and my skin was damp with sweat. I had been lying in the sun, drying off after a dip in the pool. I was alone, everyone else had left to play miniature golf. I was willing, at twenty-two and the recent recipient of all the rights and responsibilities entitled the bearer of a bachelor's degree in communications and mass media, to tag along on the family vacation - especially one I didn't have to pay for that included a pool, a beach, plenty of sun, and plenty of beer - but I had my limits. I was not playing miniature golf with my sister, my brother, his work bud, and our parents. That would be way too fucking lame.
I held the crunch, rubbing my hands over my belly, loving the ridges of muscle. I let my hands drift down to the top of my trunks. I shaded my eyes with one hand and scanned the area around the pool and the deck above me. I tried to peer into the darkness of the walkout basement behind me. I would have heard the car pull in. I would have heard the inevitable noise of my family bulling their way out of the van. No, I was alone. I lay back on the lounge chair, untied my trunks and slipped one hand inside.
We were only two days into a two-week stay and I had discovered a major flaw in my vacation plans. No chicks. After a two-year college relationship had fizzled to a disturbingly dull and unemotional close, I had avoid more than the occasional hook-up. Hook-ups weren't that hard, even if you didn't spend hours on your abs. If nothing else, college had taught me that chicks like to fuck as much as any dude. True, they tended to get clingy a little quicker than a dude but that didn't mean they didn't like to fuck.
I had been too busy with finals and hitting the job fairs to have any time to hang out in clubs or bars. Other than Rosy Palm and her five sisters, I was in the middle of one of the longest dry spells since matriculating to one of our state's finer institutions of higher learning, binge drinking, and sex. The relative lack of girls on this stretch of beach was only one aspect of the problem. The other problem being that I was back in the loving arms of my family, the smothering loving arms of my family, the always on top of me loving arms of my family, the Jesus fucking Christ I can't get enough privacy to jerk off loving arms of my family. You'd think my brother would understand. Fuck, you'd think my dad would understand. He wasn't that old.
This had more to do with my staying behind than my disdain for miniature golf. The fact that my sister routinely humiliated me at miniature golf was also factor. She had wanted to be a doctor since she was, I don't know, eight months old, but her true vocation was putt-putt golf. She should go pro and skip the drudgery of college and med school. You'd think our parents were Catholics the way they had squirted out the three of us. I was the oldest and based on the fact I appeared to have been a 7 pound 6 ounce, two month 'pre-term' infant and that my parents got married in college when dad was twenty and mom was nineteen made me vaguely suspicious that I was, just guessing here mind you, a what-the-fuck-you-mean-you're-pregnant baby.
Despite the odds, it had worked. My parents were clearly, and embarrassingly at times, in love. They both finished college. Mom stopping to have my brother, Bill, when I was barely a year and a half old while she was a junior and then, in what they admitted was a WTF, my sister just a year later. My mom was barely twenty-three and my dad still shy of twenty-five when their family was complete. Mom let dad off the hook and underwent the snip-snip operation herself. It was cool growing up having such young parents, at least at first. In high school, Bill and I quickly grew tired of all the MILF comments from our friends. We were so close in age that we shared a lot of the same friends, at least until I left for college and Bill, being wiser and probably smarter than I, had decided to forgo college. He went to the local vo-tech, got his contractor's license and, more importantly, learned to weld. He was out of the house, stashing away savings and already making nearly as much money as mom did teaching fifth grade. He had brought a buddy from work, Jim, with him. Neither of them would reach twenty-one until the end of the summer, which was why they hung out in the fucking beach house playing video games instead of getting out of my hair and hitting the bars.
After they had piled into the Odyssey and left for Pirate Cove and its kitschy 'argh matey' themed putting challenges, I had grabbed a towel and jumped into the pool. I didn't want to fuck with the sand and the prickly dune weeds. It was easier to stay by the pool. I had climbed out, stuck my head back inside the house and hollered, making sure Jill or mom hadn't returned looking for their sun screen or favorite hat or some shit. Satisfied, I returned to the pool deck and stretched out on one of the lounge chairs.
I stroked my lengthening cock beneath my trunks for a few minutes before deciding to play it a little safer. I pulled the chair back far enough so that if they came home earlier than expected, the first thing they saw stepping out onto the upper deck wouldn't be me jerking off. I straightened out the towel, dropped my trunks, and stretched out. One hand stroked my cock, the other stroked the belly I had worked so hard for. I wasn't in a hurry. I was horny but I was also enjoying the feel of the sun on my body. I rose up on one elbow and admired my cock. I love my cock. If that makes me a dick, well sorry. I had started shaving my body, everything, pits included. Bill, my brother, gave me shit about it. He was my size but a hairy fucker. I liked shaving my body. I liked it when my girlfriend shaved me even better but that was a thing of the past. Shaving made it easier to see the definition I had been focusing on, plus it made my cock look bigger. It was a nice size anyway, a little bigger than average, which means it was a little under seven inches. Of course I've measured it. Every dude that isn't a quadriplegic has measured his cock. The only difference was, I don't lie about what the ruler said. If I pushed the ruler deep enough into my pubis to fucking hurt I could call it an even seven. Yes, that is above average. The average cock is not ten inches or a foot or anywhere close. My parents, thank God, had told the doc to leave my dick alone. I got plenty of stares as a kid, still do, but I like the fact my cock is uncut.
The sun was hot but I wasn't worried about burning. I inherited mom's Italian genes. I tanned easily. My skin was the color of dark roast coffee with a little cream added. My cock was darker, my balls darker still. I had no tan lines.
There's an unofficial clothing optional beach near my college. I had been reluctant at first. Our household was not particularly uptight but we didn't run around flashing each other. We were five people in a small ranch house built in the fifties. There was only one bathroom. We saw each other, that's just the way it was. Bill and I used to torment Jill by waiting until she was in the shower to come in to take a leak. It was probably the fact we always farted while we took a piss that irritated her more than anything. Deliberately dropping trou is a totally different vibe than accidentally opening the door on your dad.
It didn't take long before I was hooked. The feeling I enjoyed the most was that of the sun and breeze drying your body. The one thing I missed since starting to shave my body was the feeling of water drops, trapped around a hair, drying, shrinking, and tickling as it evaporated. A puff of wind would cause a ripple of goose bumps, its cool touch quickly giving way to the heat of the sun. Ninety-two million miles away and its light felt hot. It could burn you. The fact boggled my mind. When you got too hot, there was the lake. The beach was sandy and free of stones. Unless it was crowded, you could run and dive into the water so fast you were surfacing before your skin realized the water was cold.
Floating nude in the water was a smorgasbord of sensations - the sun on the parts of your body out of the water, the cool kiss of the lake on the parts below the water, the lap of a wave touching sun warmed skin, the breeze, the way slightly larger waves would roll your cock from one side to the other - all of it happening in random patterns, over and over. It was a celebration of being alive in a world, which while it was totally fucked up, could still amaze you, if only you let it.
Enjoying the world with your skin was, for me at least, like meditation or going to church. It was not erotic. In fact, openly erotic behavior would lead to being shunned. The beach was cherished, none of the regulars, and there were quite a few of us, would risk letting it be degraded into a random hook-up spot.
