Having recently moved from a landlocked state to Southern California, I couldn’t wait to take a run on my new Honda CRB650R up Hwy 1 and visit one of the most beautiful coasts in the U.S., Big Sur. I imagined it must be a fantastic ride on a motorcycle. For my trip, I planned to stop in San Francisco to spend time with friends, then continue North to stay at a gay bed and breakfast in the tiny town of Westport 6 hours from Big Sur. As anyone knows, It is a miracle of a drive and I was prepared to be dazzled. It was a beautiful day, clear bright blue (of course…) heading out from LA, I just knew that it would be a great trip. The first part is just bad. From Pasadena to Ventura, nothing but commercial on both sides of Hwy 101. From Ventura north, it’s a very nice ride and it only gets better.
At Gaviota, I switched to Hwy 1, headed toward Pismo Beach, picked up some food, then rode north to a nice spot off the highway to have lunch and enjoy the scenery. After a relaxed meal (and a joint), I was ready to hit the road for Big Sur. I had read of a bakery that makes great pies there, I headed that way, cruising along trying to be attentive to the scenery and my riding. Occasional, I would stop at a pull-out where I was sure I’d get some fantastic photos.
The ride was so exhilarating and smooth. I moved the 650 through the curves easily and felt the rush as I took the turns faster and faster. As I headed north, I noticed dark clouds overhead and I’m thinking what’s up. It’s always sunny in California, right? I approached the bakery, pulled in and parked. As I went into the store I could see the clouds definitely getting darker (if this was a novel, the clouds would be ominous…) I was so looking forward to that pie, that I wasn’t too concerned until it started to rain. Now I was concerned. I wasn’t used to the coast and its weather patterns, but being in California, the rain would pass quickly. Or so they say. I decided to stay at the bakery and have my pie and coffee. Assuming the rain would pass quickly, I ate and enjoyed the view overlooking the Pacific ocean. An hour later, with the rain still falling, I was getting a little nervous. When the owner said the shop was closing and that she and her employees wanted to get home I began to really worry. I acted like no big deal, paid, and walked outside. Five minutes later, everyone had driven off and there I sat, on my bike barely underneath an overhang, feeling like a rat about to drown.
Just then, a bright red Mercedes SLK 350 coupe drove up. The guy jumped out, ran to the door only to discover the bakery had closed. He looked over at me and I returned his look with the wettest and saddest puppy dog look I could muster. I caught his eye and wearing a tight Lacoste shirt with my pecs and biceps clearly defined sure helped. As he walked closer, I realized he was maybe late 40’s and even with a raincoat, I could see he was in great shape with long lean legs and a square-jawed face and scruff too. (Was I crushing on this guy already?) He was also wearing a big shiny white-toothed smile!
He could see I was distressed and offered a warm greeting and questioned if all was OK. I gave a masculine “oh I’m doing great” and then laughed and stated if I had clear skies and a dry road, I’d really be great.
The rain was coming down pretty hard so my predicament looked grim until my new friend’s face lightened and he said I was welcome to follow him home about two miles north for shelter. I took it to mean I could hang out outside his place until the skies cleared.
I bundled up as best I could and took off following my “savior” He did look very hot and driving the two-seater coupe made things very sexy. After a few minutes, we came to a steep driveway on a rise opposite the ocean. It looked tricky what with rain running down the drive like a river but I gunned my bike and rode smoothly up to a flat spot next to a very large, very cool house with glass walls and no doubt an amazing view of the Pacific.
My new friend had pulled into the garage and motioned me to follow. So OK, I’m really getting great treatment, even my bike was out of the weather. As the garage door closed, he said, come on into the house, and by the way, my name is Preston. I’m David I replied. You know that feeling one gets when he is about to enter into a very pleasant adventure? My ruined coast ride appeared to turn into some real excitement. I was going to be relaxing with a very attractive guy with possibly a glass (or two) of wine.
The more I saw of the house, the more I noticed what good taste this guy has. Of course, the view of the ocean was spectacular, and the dark clouds and heavy rain gave an ethereal look.
Within a few minutes, after deciding on red or white, my new friend opened a bottle of rich, red wine and we were seated on a wrap-around sofa with a warming fire burning in the huge stone fireplace. The dreamy looks I was getting, assured me this was going to be a fun night of play.
Small talk followed and the more we talked the more attractive Preston became. Very interesting story. He’s an artist and had done well by age thirty-five so he opened a gallery. Of course, it would be in Carmel, an artist colony up the coast from his house, pretty much the top echelon of artists and galleries.
I pretty much stared dreamily into his eyes as he talked, being a twenty-four-year-old with not a whole lot of experience. Since my income came from drug sales, I felt I should come up with a better career so I used my fathers’ business as a cover. I said I am the vice president of a publishing company. His incredulous look made me think he was impressed but in fact, my position was in name only. My father gave me the title just so I could impress people. Otherwise, I really didn’t care for that kind of work.
I think we were both pretty assertive but being younger, I made the move on him first and within a minute we were at it hot and heavy. Shirts came off, jean buttons opened and we quickly progressed. I have learned that when the passive partner (OK, yes I’m a bottom) really teases it out, the hotter and harder the top becomes.
Preston stood, lifted me from the sofa, grabbed the wine and glasses, and pulled me to the bedroom. Being a dizzy fag, I stopped the action to look around his bedroom and comment “love the layout”. Beautifully appointed as an artist would do it and the bed faced the ocean. god, what a place to be taken…
Preston pushed me down onto the bed and proceeded to smoothly ravished me. Preston was proving to be a great sex partner and with my youthful exuberance, I totally went for it. Starting at Prestons’ feet, I moved slowly north. He had such beautiful feet, perfectly proportioned toes, high arch, and veins! I could go on about his narrow ankles and muscular calves but now I’m in between his thighs, munching toward a delicious cock. Preston was so hard (and had been that way since he dropped his pants.) Tip oozing precum (a lot too), I opened wide and took in as much shaft as I could without stopping. I couldn’t make it to the base, I could really feel how long Prestons’ cock was, pushing at my throat until I leaned back giving his cock a straight line as he pushed in until he was forcing the base hard against my throat. I held off gagging until he pulled his cock out just long enough to catch my breath and drool out saliva before he plowed it back in and out. He was rough and gentle at the same time, giving me total ecstasy. He then pulled out and climbed down my body and took my broad, big-headed cock in his mouth, increasing intensity with each gulp. I arched my back and sighed loudly indicating how fantastic this felt.
We entwined ourselves, savoring each lick, bite, kiss, and stroke. We were sweating from the heat we were generating and those salty licks were divine. As we moved together, we became harder and harder and as I started to pant, I began to beg Preston to fuck me.
He climbed between my thighs, lifted me up, and slowly entered. I was surprised by how easily he penetrated me so I pushed forward to get him as deep as possible. Preston was in ecstasy as he slid in smoothly up to the base of his substantial cock. He was so good, pulling out and pushing at just the right tempo for me. I was in rapture and begged to go deep and fast. His cock was the perfect length, sliding past my prostate rubbing it hard, sending me to Nirvana. He did that to me until I was dripping sweat, arching my back to meet him full-on, and bringing him closer and closer to erupting, filling me with his hot semen. I hoped too, that by reaching up, hugging, and licking his muscular body, I was going to bring about a monster orgasm for both of us. Preston was getting ready to cum. I could feel his cock getting harder and his thrusts deeper and faster. The rumbling in my balls signaled that I was also close. We were going to cum together! I could feel it in his body and see in his face as he reached orgasm and my ecstasy drove me to orgasm in unison with Preston. We both came so fucking hard. I could feel the blast of his hot cum fill my ass. My thick rope of cum covered his belly and chest. Preston collapsed on top of me and rubbed his white-hot muscular hairy chest on mine, and spread my cum all over our chests and bellies. The euphoria I felt was like a heroin high and I didn’t it want to end. I put my arms around Preston, held him tight, and wouldn’t let go. He gave me deep French kisses and his muscled, sweat glistened body on top of me made me fell so safe. All the while, his hard cock stiil in my ass
After a long blissful moment, we uncoupled, Preston rolled off of me and after curling up together, we drifted off to a raptured sleep.
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