Mike clung to the arm of Larry, the older man he'd met just earlier in the day but who was everything to Mike at the moment, as, one of six men concentrating on their cards, a pall of smoke hovering over the table, Mike won another hand of poker. He hadn't even played much poker before now. And he'd never been in a place like this before now, either.
The poker table was in the corner of a smoky, boisterous barroom with a small stage, where a young black man in a puffy-haired black wig, sparkly red bra, and gold lamé G-string was dancing a pole to music being piped in from somewhere and men were shuffle dancing with other men—and kissing and fondling each other.
Mike had been curious and he admitted readily to himself that he'd taken to the beach in the morning in a micobikini to test out the possibilities, but he'd never been where he was now. And he'd done what he'd done that afternoon for the first time. He almost connected winning at poker at this table with an affirmation of a new lifestyle. If he wasn't so sore, he'd be giddy. And if the man on the other side of him, a tall, muscular man in cowboy boots and shirt who'd said to call him Tex didn't keep pushing the toe of his cowboy boot up the hem of Mike's trousers and rubbing Mike's ankle under the table. It wasn't that Mike was disgusted about that; it was more that it aroused him and worried him about whether he was going to be promiscuous now that he'd crossed through the beaded curtain. It made him snuggle closer to Larry.
Ashamedly, that made Mike think of big cocks. The cowboy obviously had one, as could be told by the faded denim of the area stretched over his cock that Mike had spied as the poker players settled at the table. Mike knew it was vacuous to obsess on big cocks, but he always had. He'd just never been in a situation before where anything could come of the obsession.
Larry, although not totally ignoring Mike, was sending most of his attention across the table to another older guy, probably in his late thirties, named Clinton, who was in a wheelchair and who had a twenty-something thin, almost effeminate and androgynous attendant flitting around in back of him. Clinton kept giving Larry looks that raised a sense of trespass on Mike, a sensation he couldn't figure out the source for.
But then he could. Larry had come to the beach that morning and settled his towel next to Mike. Although older, Larry was strikingly good looking and in great shape, and Mike was intrigued by the pattern of hair on the man's chest and trailing down to the waistband of his bathing suit, setting off fantasies in Mike's mind of where the hair went from there. Mike had come to Florida and onto the beach to build up the courage to hook up. He'd never done it before, and it had become an obsession that he'd never done it. Larry's bathing suit was a tight one, and as they talked, Mike could see that Larry increasingly was aroused. So was he, and he couldn't hide it.
"See that house over there?" Larry had said. "The three-story one with the red tile roof."
Mike did see it. Quite a mansion.
"That's mine. Would you like a tour?"
"Sure, that would be great."
"My bedroom is especially nice," Larry had said. "I'd like to fuck you. I'd be willing to pay. Say $100? You probably were hoping for a younger guy, weren't you? But I have experience a younger guy wouldn't have. And a younger guy isn't going to pay you for it."
Now that it was here, Mike was scared. He babbled out that he'd never done it before.
"$200 then," Larry had said, smiling and nearly licking his lips. "You came to the beach for this today, didn't you? I can tell from your behavior on the beach. I watched you for a while from my house before coming down here. You came here for a hookup, didn't you? You've decided you want to try it out, haven't you? I'll make it so that you'll want it again."
Mike couldn't say that Larry was wrong about why he'd come to the beach—why he'd come in a bathing suit that hid practically nothing, and why he'd walked the surf line, exhibiting himself.
In the master bedroom of Larry's beach house, Larry had taken it slow. Sensually, lying on top of Mike, front to front, kissing Mike and moving his pelvis, causing his dick to drag against Mike's belly and rub against Mike's dick. Mike had come then. He apologized in embarrassment, but Larry had just laughed, saying it was proof to him that Mike was a virgin and excited him even more.
"You're young and virile—a beautiful body. You'll be able to come again when I'm ready to take it from you."
Larry moved down Mike's body, kissing and nipping on the way, as Mike moaned and trembled. For the first time another man had his mouth on Mike's cock and then his balls and then, for several minutes, lapping at his asshole, enticing his channel to open up. Mike came again while Larry was deep-throating his cock and moving fingers in and out of Mike's channel. Then, reversed and hovering over him, Mike received his first taste of a man's cock, gagging, but eager to experience and learn now that he actually was doing it.
The pain of the first penetration, Mike on his back at the foot of the bed, and Larry crouched over him, holding Mike's legs spread and raised, was initially almost unbearable. But Larry took this slow too, wedging the bulb of his cock just inside the entrance until Mike calmed down and opened to the inch-by-inch invasion, huffing and panting all the time, while Larry gave him words of encouragement, of how nice Mike's body was, and of gratefulness for letting Larry be first. When Larry had pulled Mike's legs in, fully bent against Larry's chest, as Larry covered Mike close from above and took the younger man's lips in his and simply rocked back and forth on top of Mike, sending his cock rubbing across Mike's prostate, Mike was sighing and in seventh heaven.
"Can you take more?" Larry murmured.
"Yes, fuck me, daddy, fuck me hard," Mike whimpered. These were words he'd practiced for this occasion, taken from all the porn movies he'd watched. He was here, he already was undone. It wasn't a time to be shy. Everyone had told him that the pleasure would increasingly overshadow the pain each time he took a cock.
Larry rose again, hooked Mike's legs around his waist, and pushed his cock in deep. Once Larry's cock was buried and his pumping attained a slow rhythm, Mike's awe and relief that it was done—that a man's cock had bottomed in him and he'd taken it—took over and he let the pleasure of it sweep over him. As he pumped the young man's channel, Larry was pumping Mike's cock with a fist as well, and Mike came again, up his belly. He just lay back then as Larry moved on, pumping faster and deeper, to his own ejaculation.
They had been right. There was less pain in the pleasure each successive time. Of course Mike had only known the one cock as yet, but he wasn't thinking at the moment of there being bigger cocks. He'd certainly thought about that when Larry stood before him naked, though. He'd initially been disappointed the cock wasn't bigger, even in full erection. He just didn't know then how talented Larry was in wielding it.
When Larry invited Mike to stay with him and go out with him that evening, Mike was pleased at the thought that he must have performed for the first time well enough. It was well enough that, in the sultry high hours of the afternoon, with the windows open to the beach and the sea and a ceiling fan wonk-wonking overhead, Larry coaxed Mike up on all fours on the bed, mounted him, and fucked him harder and faster than he had the first time. This time was more possessing, but it still was sensual, and Larry was all attention to Mike's needs and level of pleasure-pain—and applied massive amounts of lube.
Larry wanted to take the chance of barebacking a claimed virgin, though, so condoms weren't mentioned. Mike was too dumb on the subject to bring that topic up.
For the first time, Mike was being well taken care of. Larry was older than the men Mike had imagined he'd go with, but, with age, had come experience and the willingness to treat a virgin right.
Now, at the poker game, as the chips mounted up in front of Mike, Mike was obsessed with wondering who Larry would be taking home—or going home with. Mike was of two minds about continuing with Larry. He'd come to Florida and out on the beach today to rid himself of his male-male virginity, which he had. He wasn't all that excited with falling immediately into a relationship, especially with an older, rich man who was dominating. Mike was on a post-high school fling. He didn't plan on staying in Florida.
Larry's body was good, but Mike had seen men in the gym showers; he knew that Larry didn't have a cock to be especially proud of, and Mike's obsessions had all been for big cocks. He fully appreciated that a smaller cock was a good beginning, though.
He wanted a bigger cock—a much bigger cock—before going home, however.
He couldn't help looking to the other side at the Texan . . . at his lap below the glass-topped table. Now that was a huge bulge, made prominent by the area being more faded than the denim around it—evidence that the Texan rubbed himself there frequently. It was an image that Mike found arousing—he suffered the urge to be in a position to rub the guy's basket himself. The Texan gave him a wink and lifted his boot heel to Mike's crotch. Shuddering—not entirely unpleasantly—Mike moved in closer to Larry's side. But he also spread his legs and moved a hand under the top of the table to hold the Texan's pressuring boot heel to his crotch.
The other two men—in their late twenties—at the table obviously were a couple. They only had eyes for each other and they had their hands all over each other. Much of Mike's winnings at the table probably came from their inattention to the game. Both hunky blonds, they looked like they'd just come off the surfing beach. They did, though, both look close to aging out of that scene. They had identified themselves as Frank, the taller and more muscular and evident dominator of the pair, and Rich. Mike looked at them with pleasure—not just because they were both handsome and well-built all-American athlete types but also because they obviously were a satisfied couple. They gave Mike hope that he would fall into something like that in a decade—with someone of his own age. At least that's what he had always thought. Being initiated this afternoon by a rich, older man had also been arousing. This big Texan on the other side of him, the one with the big bulge in his crotch, was arousing too. Being aroused by so many possibilities was disturbing.
It was especially disturbing when the Texan, moving back to the table after getting another beer, put his mouth close to Mike's ear in passing when Larry was exchanging words with the guy in the wheelchair across the table, Clinton, and whispered, "If you can break away from the old guy afterward, go with me. I can show you a good time."
Mike blanched and then blushed. He gave no answer; he just pulled closer into Larry's side. But he felt himself go harder. The Texan felt it too, because he'd paused beside Mike, put his hand on Mike's crotch, squeezed the hardened tube he could feel inside, and gave a little laugh. He muttered, "You want me, yes you do. I can fuck you so you know you've been fucked."
