Beach Challenge

by Lucas Steele

Genres: LGBT Gay

Synopsis

A collection of five sexually explicit erotic stories with male on male themes. Beach Challenge by Elizabeth Coldwell Spending a friend's stag weekend in a posh country house in Cornwall, Chris finds himself undertaking an unusual challenge in a game of Spin The Bottle. He has to run across the beach wearing nothing but a towel, and pay a forfeit if he's caught. But what he doesn't know is that the man who is chasing him wants him to fail - so he can initiate Chris into the delights of man love... A Birthday Present by Ruth Ramsden To be bound and helpless, to be totally at my mercy is his fantasy and tonight I am going to make sure he lives it to the full. After all, a birthday comes but once a year, but only coming once is not what I intend for him! The Anniversary Gift by Garland Huston Blake writes erotica for a living so why is his own sex life so unsatisfactory? He thinks he knows the answer: routine kills everything. So he devises a way of spicing things up a bit. Threesomes and maybe even foursomes, but long term boyfriend, Sug, is horrified at the idea. The question is, will Huston be able to change his mind? Slash And Burn by Michael Bracken Slash is an ace skate-boarder who wants to turn pro, but he can't attract the attention of a sponsor. Then one evening while Slash and his boyfriend are skateboarding in the mall, Slash thwarts a robbery with a very slick skateboard manoeuvre. The guys celebrate his success with a passionate night. Next day, they discover everything has changed. Where once their future seemed uncertain, now they are a huge success - and their partnership is cemented - in more ways than one. The Collaring by Penelope Friday Matt is my sub, I am his master, and tonight is a very special night. It is the night we will make a very public commitment to each other. Matt must prove his love for me, and I will prove mine for him in front of a willing audience. Only then will the collaring ceremony be complete. These stories have also been published in Boy Fun ISBN 9781907016097

Release date: August 25, 2010

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 62

Sample

I’m halfway along the beach before I hear the sound of running footsteps behind me. Putting on an extra burst of speed, even though my side aches and my lungs are burning, I still reckon I can get to the far end of the bay before them. For a moment, the moon comes out from behind a cloud. Glancing round, I see them; two shadowy figures splashing through the surf. I don’t think they’re actually gaining on me, but it’s difficult to tell in this light.

The towel around my waist slips a little, and I hitch it up. I’d like to stop and tie it more securely, but I don’t have the time. Not if I want to get away from my pursuers. I have no idea what they might do to me if they catch me.

I’ve found myself in some strange positions in my time, but never anything like this, sprinting along a deserted beach wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel and a pair of scuffed old training shoes. I suppose it’ll make a good story to tell when I get back to London. But London seems so far away at this moment.

I stumble over a pebble the size of my fist, manage to keep from falling over entirely, and head for the gently zig-zagging path that leads up the cliff and back to the house. So close now, so close ...

And then I feel a hand grab my bare thigh and I go sprawling in the sand. There’s a triumphant, mocking laugh as I lie there, winded. I close my eyes and wonder what my forfeit will be.

When Jeff invites me to his stag night, I know it’s going to involve something exotic. After all, the days of hiring a room over a pub and a peroxide stripper dressed as a policewoman, who’ll rub her tits in the groom’s face to the delight of his leering mates, are long gone. Now it’s a weekend in Prague or Tallinn or wherever the pound’s strong and the beer is cheap. A bloke who used to work in our sales department claimed when his old boss got married, he took his three best salesmen, him included, to Amsterdam and paid for them all to have sex with whichever of the window girls took their fancy.

Fun as that may sound, I hope Jeff isn’t planning anything too expensive: we might have been mates for eight years, since we first met at university, but I’ve never moved in the same exalted financial circles as him and the rest of his close friends and never will.

Fortunately, it turns out one of those friends, Reuben – who is also going to be Jeff’s best man – belongs to a family which appears to own a considerable chunk of Cornwall. His old man’s going to be away on business in Hong Kong for a couple of weeks, which means we’ll have the run of his house for the weekend. Actually, the way Jeff describes it, it sounds more like a country seat than a humble house. All I know is it means sorting out a cheap rail fare to Liskeard, then Reuben will pick me up at the station. No need for a passport, no queuing for hours at Heathrow, no cut-price airfare that actually ends up costing you a fortune once they’ve added on the cost of checking in, stowing your baggage and selling you an in-flight sandwich. Just sun, sea and the contents of Reuben’s dad’s drinks cabinet. My idea of bliss.

Reuben is waiting for me at Liskeard station when the train pulls in. He and Jeff became best friends at boarding school, but when Jeff went to university, Reuben spent a year backpacking round Australia and the Far East before getting a job with an investment bank. So far, so much the stereotype. But as he hefts my rucksack into the boot of his sporty little Mini and flashes me a broad smile, I find myself unexpectedly warming to him. He has the lean, athletic build of a surfer – which is, apparently, how he spends most of his weekends, riding the waves off the Cornish coast – and dark, floppy hair which he brushes out of his eyes as he talks.

Reuben drives fast and a little recklessly, as only someone who is completely familiar with these twisting high-hedged country roads could feel confident in doing. He’s blasting out heavy rock music over the Mini’s speakers, raising his voice to ask me questions over the rumbling beat.

‘Jeff tells me you’re a teacher?’ he says, twisting slightly in his seat to address me.

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ I reply, wishing he’d keep those surprisingly long-lashed hazel eyes of his on the road. ‘A-level Spanish. Not particularly glamorous.’

‘But necessary. All I can manage in Spanish is “una cerveza, por favor”. I try and make it a rule that wherever I am in the world, I know how to order beer.’ He laughs. ‘Now all I need to learn is how to say, “Fan. . .