Fucked By Beach Volleyball Players

Being convinced it was Scott’s first time, Carlos hadn’t bothered using a condom. He liked it bareback when he could get it that way. Scott had ejaculated too and Carlos let him collapse on the carpet in front of the sofa.
*****
Nineteen-year-old Scott Blake, blond, achingly handsome, with a well-muscled, trim dancer’s body sat in a half doze during his afternoon stint as a life guard on Miami Beach. The haze on the water was mesmerizing him. There wasn’t too much activity on the beach this early in the season–a few couples and a family or two down near the water, but few going in beyond ankle-deep water because there had already been some shark-sighting scares in that summer of 1963. Scott was contemplating his future beyond the end of the summer. That’s how long this beach gig would last. More important, that’s when he’d top out in the men’s ballet classes at the Miami City Ballet. That his passion was ballet was something he didn’t share with the other beach lifeguards. It definitely was no a macho interest in the sixties.
Would he go home to Minnesota State University and take up agricultural studies as his parents wished to take over the family farm or go for a principal position in the city ballet and stay here?
He had come to Florida for something exotic–to pursue interests and develop preferences out of his parents’ sight and that of everyone else in Minnesota looking down their noses even at his interest in music and dance. They all probably already assumed he was pursuing a lifestyle he was only dreaming about at this point–and condemned him for it. It certainly wasn’t the Minnesota way.
Scott became aware that the volleyball game some young men–regular bodybuilders Scott was seeing on the beach every day and suspected...