BEACH BLONDE

I have literally had a day at the beach – I woke up early this morning and called in sick to my job. I hate what I do for a living, I hate the company I work for, and I hate the company that I am forced to keep at work – each one of their stupid, bovine faces more repulsive than the last, and their grunting, porcine, unintelligible attempts at conversation would shame a Neanderthal. If I had gone in this morning I probably would have taken my Army-issue M-16 with me, and been on the 6:00 news…

I sleep in until about 10:00am. Then, I get up, shower, and walk the couple of blocks from my apartment to the ocean beach, wearing only a straw hat, swim trunks, and flip-flops, toting a blanket and a bag with sun-tan oil, a sandwich, and the book I’m currently reading. I drag behind me a cooler on wheels filled with Dos Equi’s.

I spend the day doing exactly what I want to do, which is nothing at all. I set up camp in a secluded hollow in one of the sand dunes that form a low ridge overlooking the beach at the high-water mark, and alternate swimming, reading, denting the pile of Dos Equi’s in the cooler, and dozing. I am deliciously alone for a change, and so I also spend some time reviewing how I got to my current situation, and what the best route out of it might be.

Sometime in the afternoon a group of hot, handsome, fit, athletic young studs begin a spirited game of volleyball. I take a break from my reading to watch them cavort in the sun, and I can almost smell the sweat and testosterone all the way up here in my secluded nook. I spread some more sun-tan oil on my broad chest as I watch them at play – I am in good physical shape, and even though I am a few years older – 30-ish to their 20-ish - I could take any one of them fairly easily. Only one or two of these hot studs might give me a bit of trouble in a mano-a-mano struggle. Still, they are, each of them, definitely eye candy, and after rubbing the oil on my exposed chest and abs, my hands drift down under my swim trunks. I root around in there until I find what I want – and it is no trouble to find the root of my thick, strong, still-young cock.

I have a wide enough streak of Narcissism in me that I consider my own cock my best friend, and the equal or better of anyone else’s. I have never met a man as big as me when fully aroused, and never met a woman who did not want my strong, muscular body on top of her and my 8-1/2 inches of man-meat inside her, and many men agree with the women. I have never yet left either a man or a woman unsatisfied, and they are always anxious for a return engagement – which rarely happens, by my own choice.

I have lived alone since I moved out of my parents’ house, and I enjoy it. I like being