Sydney, Australia
Part 1

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Having lived in the inner western suburbs of Sydney for all of my eighteen years, I now had the chance to go exploring, and the first place I wanted to explore was Sydney's northern beaches. Yes! That was the kind of place the Beach Boys sang about in their hit songs. The land of the surfer. Speedos! Tanned bodies! Salt air! Golden sand! Sunshine! Boys! Well, the Beach Boys sang about girls, but that didn't matter. "Sun, sun, sun, sun, woo oo oo oo ooo oooooo..." Brian Wilson probably walked around under an umbrella and covered himself with sun-block, but he sure knew how to write inspiring lyrics that captured the essence of the surf culture.

Pittwater Road stretched from Manly Beach on the lower north shore to Mona Vale, then became Barrenjoey Road which ended at Palm Beach on the tip of the Northern Peninsula. It seemed like a hundred miles of magnificent beaches but was probably more like twenty. I stopped at every one, admiring the hoards of bronzed teen surfers with their 'woodies' and vans laden with boards. It was all so colorful and, in those days, free from hard drugs or violence. Just about everybody you met was happy to say "g'day, mate" and smile with zinc-creemed lips.

It was on the way back from Palm Beach one hot Sunday afternoon in incredibly thick and slow traffic that I spotted three teens hitching a ride. It seemed to take forever to get to them as the cars in front inched painfully forward. When I was within a few car lengths of them, I honked the horn and motioned them to get in. They ran to the Morris and piled inside.

"You going to West Ryde?"

"No worries."

West Ryde wasn't far out of my way. Besides, I'd finally gotten to meet a bunch of genuine surfers! The kids I'd known all my life were into motor bikes, Brylcreem and Elvis Presley. They were known as 'rockers' and they hated 'surfies'. As for me, I was a red-head and would burn to a crisp even if I stood under a storm cloud at midnight, so I didn't really belong to either cult. Nevertheless, there was no doubt that surfers were my heroes. Rockers had grease under their fingernails and grease in their hair. Surfers were tanned and scrubbed clean with salt water -- the bronzed gods of the sea. And I had three of them in my Morris! Woohoo! I cracked myself up at the thought of removing all the interior door handles, which I hadn't, but probably should have.

The guys chatted amongst themselves on the way home, laughing and giggling about the day's events. The two in the back seat did most of the talking. The blonde kid in the front seat didn't say much at all. As for me, well, I was just the chauffeur. I said zip -- not that I could think of anything anyway. I was a 'westie' -- an intruder into their exclusive and mysterious nautical world.

The kid next to me was wearing khaki shorts and I couldn't help noticing the sprinkling of fine blonde hairs on his brown, slender legs. I didn't have the nerve to check out anything else, except for the odd glance in the rear-view mirror. The blonde guy was definitely the pick of the bunch. I remembered having thought so when I first saw them standing on the road, and again when the blonde guy got in next to me. But it all happened so fast I couldn't form a mental picture of his face. Even when I got the chance, while checking for traffic on my left, he'd be checking too, so his head was always turned in the same direction as mine. Damn!

As it turned out, the two in the back were dropped-off first. They thanked me and said bye to their mate. Half a mile further on, I stopped outside a small, suburban cottage at Ermington. "Thanks for the ride, mate." The kid shook my hand.

"No worries. You guys going to the beach next weekend?"

"Yeah, we go every weekend. We leave our boards at a friend's place 'cause we don't have a car."

"Well, I'll be passing through here on Saturday. Wanna lift?"

"Sure! Cool! I'll let the guys know. See ya. Oh, I'm Daryl." He flashed a beautiful set of white teeth and a smile that was truly captivating. Its magic went straight to my loins.

"I'm B. See ya."

All the way home I couldn't help thinking about Daryl's face. It was so finely chiselled -- not enough to be feminine but enough to be softly, even delicately, masculine. There wasn't a single blemish anywhere. He had short, blond hair and a high, intelligent forehead. His eyes were emerald green, rimmed with light blond lashes, and his small nose was as cute as a button. His fingers were long and slender. His feet, as I remembered, were neatly proportioned, with toes that formed a perfect arc and nails that were trimmed and clean. I had a thing about feet. Feet could be ugly or beautiful. His were definitely the latter.

Travelling in a crowded peak-hour train to and from work the next week was in total and obvious contrast to the open-air spaciousness of the beaches and the Speedo-clad, tanned bodies that I had ogled the previous weekend. They were two completely alien worlds. The office of the Registrar General's Department, with its late 19th century dark sandstone facade and dingy interior lit constantly by boring rows of naked fluorescent tubes, was depressing to the enth degree. I couldn't wait for next Saturday!

"You're early!" Daryl said as he answered the front door. He was dressed only in shorts but I managed to keep my eyes from wandering too far from his. I didn't want him to get the wrong impression, even though it would have been the correct impression.

"Well, I wasn't sure what time you guys normally hit the road."

"I'm just having breakfast. You had yours?"

I followed the kid's narrow hips and sweet ass into the kitchen where he introduced me to his folks. They were a typical-looking, middle-aged mom and dad except that his father [I found out later] was in the early stages of Parkinson's disease. I was given a piece of toast spread with marmalade and a glass of orange juice, then invited into Daryl's room.

"You really take this surfing gig seriously," I remarked as I studied the posters on his walls.

"They're all from surfing movies. When the surf's crap, we go to the Avalon theater," he said as he stepped out of his shorts and briefs, and opened a drawer in his dresser. "Damn, where did I put my Speedos?"

While he searched his cupboard and drawers, I took advantage of the opportunity to study his tanned body. He was definitely on the slim side but with well-developed and well-defined muscles. His chest was his best feature, with pecs that were solid and square-shaped, sporting fleshy nipples the color of milk chocolate perfectly placed on their lower outer edges. His body hair -- what little there was of it -- was almost invisible except when it caught the light like silver and contrasted beautifully with his smooth, golden skin.

In the dick department, Daryl was no John Holmes, but he had sufficient wrinkles in his small cut cock to suggest that it could stretch to a respectable size if given the right sort of stimulation. I shouldn't have allowed that thought to enter my head because I could feel a major stirring in my loins. I sat down on the edge of his bed and crossed my legs before my rapidly growing throbber could become an embarrassing issue.

"Here they are!" He pulled on the Speedos, then a pair of board shorts. He slid his long, slender arms through a short-sleeved green and blue shirt which he left unbuttoned to reveal a tantalizing patch of smooth skin that ran from the groove between his pecs down to his flat six pack and navel. "I'll phone the guys and let them know we're on the way, and I'll ask dad if we can borrow his roof rack."

For the next couple of weeks, driving the guys to and from the northern beaches had become a ritual that I was enjoying immensely. Daryl's friends, Bob and Stuart were fun guys and by far the most boistrous of the trio but I was growing more fond of the quiet and mysterious Daryl every day. Stuart, for example, would lean out of the car window as we passed a group of girls walking down the street and yell, "come back when you've got some hair around it!" Daryl would smile but, at the same time, managed to remain aloof from such adolescent vulgarity. For me, it was just awesome to be driving the old Morris with three boards stacked on top. If only my westie mates could have seen me now! "Fun, fun, fun 'til my daddy takes the t-bird away ha hay..." Woohoo!

On the third Saturday, we'd all agreed to go into town for some fun that night. I brought a change of clothes with me and accepted Daryl's offer to sleep over at his house. The day was spent at Bungan Beach which had a nice offshore breeze and four-foot waves peaking off the point. I couldn't ride a board but I could body surf reasonably well. Yeah, right. Doh! It was a miracle that there was any surf remaining after most of it had found its way into my gut. Bleh!

Late in the afternoon, I was sitting on the beach after covering myself with sun screen and looking as though I'd been hit by a wet flour bomb, when the guys emerged from the breakers and ran toward me. They dropped their boards on the sand and cracked up totally at the sight of the red-haired snowman -- that is, Bob and Stuart did; Daryl was smiling but not in a disparaging way.

I couldn't take my eyes off him as he towelled his face and hair. His body was covered in hundreds of tiny droplets of water which glistened in the bright sunlight. His wet, golden skin accentuated the curves of his tall, slim physique. And, as he towelled, his long, pronounced lats danced on his ribs while his pecs bulged and firmed with each sensual movement. He spread his towel on the sand and sat next to me, folding his arms around his raised knees.

"You burn easily, huh?"

"Some black bastard stole all my melanin."

As usual, I dropped off the other two guys before driving to Daryl's house where we showered before dinner. Since I was the guest, he gave me a towel and let me go first. I was about two minutes into the shower and jacking myself into a frenzy when the door opened. "I didn't check the soap. You got enough?" I was about to answer when the shower curtain flew back. "Oops! Sorry, B. Hey, don't worry about it, man, I wank in here all the time. Go for it." He slid the curtain back and I heard the door close.

"Fuck! How embarrassing!" I thought. I must have gone brilliant crimson. Then I began to think about him wanking in here. Whoa! I imagined that fine specimen of a lad with his fist around his cock and all his muscles popping and stretching with every tug. Jeez! Within a minute I'd blown my huge load.

I knocked on Daryl's door, then entered. We both had towels wrapped around our waists. He was holding two shirts. "Which one do you reckon I should wear tonight?"

"The yellow one. It goes with your hair and tan."

"Done."

He put the other shirt back in the wardrobe as I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to leave. I wasn't sure if it was modesty or a feeling of inferiority that discouraged me from wanting to dress in his presence. Suddenly, I heard a noise and felt something touch my back. One of the surfing posters had come unstuck.

"Damn posters! They're always falling down." He took some Blue-Tac from a drawer and placed a small piece on each corner of the poster. "This is my fav, I reckon. It's from Endless Summer. You ever see it?"

"No, but I've heard it's way cool."

He was standing directly in front of me as he leaned forward and reached over my head to re-attach the poster to the wall. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as his towel started to unravel. Within seconds it had fallen in a heap on the floor. "Sorry, B, I'll pick it up in a minute. I just wanna make sure this poster is stuck firm."

"I'll get out of your way."

"It's OK, mate. I'll only be a tick."

His beautiful dick was almost touching my face but, this time, most of its wrinkles had given way to a mouthwatering semi-hardon capped by a round, pale pink head. Jeez, it was fucking gorgeous! I was studying its piss hole and imagining a bucket of hot, sticky juice jetting out of it and into my mouth when he lifted one leg and placed a foot on the bed next to me. I was pretty sure I hadn't moved my face forward -- or had I? In any case, his knob touched my lips. Oh, fuck! How I was aching to open my mouth and let his delicious teen meat in all the way up to his small patch of blonde/white pubes!

"There, that should do it." He took his foot off the bed and hopped back a step to check his handiwork. Satisfied, he kicked the towel in the air, grabbed it and wrapped it around his waist. Meantime, I had a skin-splitting boner the size of Mt Everest and there was absolutely no way I was gonna stand up. I would have revealed a tent large enough to accommodate an entire scout jamboree!

"See you in ten, B," he said as he headed for the door, then stopped and turned. "And I might have a wank, too," he laughed. When he'd gone, I couldn't help wondering about his innocence and naivety. How could he not have been conscious of the fact that his exquisite jewels had practically fucked my face? Was he teasing me or was he blissfully unaware? And how could I broach the subject if he were?

The bouncer at the city dance club asked Daryl to button his shirt before he'd allow him in. A few minutes later, it was unbuttoned again. It posed another question about the mysterious Daryl. Was he aware of his physical beauty or was he just trying to look cool? In the three weeks that I'd known him, he'd said very little about himself and didn't appear to have a vain bone in his body. Still waters ran deep. One thing was certain, though -- this kid was staking a major claim on my brain.

This was no time, however, to be a wallflower. I followed the other three guys to the dance floor. After two knockbacks, I was dancing with a girl whose spectacles resembled the bottoms of Coke bottles, and which made her eyes appear twice their normal size. If she'd had tits, she must've forgotten to bring them. Oh well, at least I was on the floor. Besides, dancing to surf music meant that it was almost impossible to detect who was dancing with whom. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Hey, B, this is Gloria."

Gloria had her hands inside Daryl's open shirt. She was fluttering her mascara-covered eyelashes and grinning like a fool. I felt instantly sick. "G'day, Gloria. Sorry guys, I need some fresh air. I'll be back soon."

It was an incredible relief to step onto the comparatively quiet street and walk briskly away from the fading strains of "da do ron, ron" and back to where my Morris was parked. I fumbled with the lock through misted eyes. Once inside, I sobbed uncontrollably. After five minutes, my self-pity turned to anger -- not anger directed at Daryl or Gloria but at myself. How could I have let this happen? What on earth had made me think I could go from being a skinny, red-haired westie to a northside surfer? Worse still, what had possessed me to think that I had a snowflake's chance in fucking hell of winning Daryl's heart? Jeez! What a fucking prize turkey I'd been! What a fucking dreamer! I put the key in the ignition.

"Hey, B!" I recognized Daryl's voice and heard him rapping on the window. "Hey, are you OK?"

I wound the window down. "No, mate. I'm feeling pretty crook. I think I'd better drive home."

"You're not driving any-fucking-where, man. Open the door and move over."

I slid across to the passenger side while he climbed in and sat behind the wheel. "So, what's the story?"

"I'm crook, that's all. I just need to go to bed."

"Don't gimme that shit, B. You've been crying."

"No, I haven't."

"You fucking have!" he insisted. "Now, tell me what's wrong."

I started by telling him little things, like how I'd always admired surfers and how I thought he was pretty cool, but one thing led to another and I ended up spilling the beans completely. "So, now you know what a fucking dork I am, Daryl. Go back to the dance and lemme drive home." His laugh began with a giggle but soon became hysterical. "Shit, man," I pleaded, "I feel dumb enough as it is without you fucking thinking it's some big fucking joke! For Christ's sake, let me fucking drive home."

He managed to regain his composure and looked me fair and square in the eye. "B, do you have any idea what I was thinking about when I was wanking in the shower?"

It was close to midnight by the time I'd dropped Bob and Stuart at their houses and arrived at Daryl's. His folks had already called it a night as we crept toward his room so as not to wake them. As soon as his door was closed, the blonde Adonis quickly undressed to his boxers, then collapsed on the bed and became hysterical again.

"Is it true, Daryl? Don't lie to me, please. I couldn't stand it."

"Yep, swear to God. I was in the shower thinking what would have happened if you'd decided to blow me while I was putting the poster back on the wall. I felt my dick touch your face but I wasn't sure if... Actually, I was scared shitless that you were gonna tell me to piss off."

"No way, man. No damn way! Anyway, that still doesn't explain where I fit in. I mean, I'll never be like you or the other guys. I'm a westie."

"I'm gonna make two chocolate milks and get some cookies. You stay right there. I've got some stuff to tell you. Back in a flash."

While I waited, I also undressed down to my boxers. Within a minute, he'd returned with the snacks and sat down beside me on the bed.

"Get these into ya, mate. Mom makes 'em and they're totally delish." He swallowed his first bite and continued. "Now, B, listen up. You think I'm some hotshot because I've got a tan and can ride a board. Well, lemme tell you something. When I started to get to know you, I was blown away by the way you could put words together and make people laugh. You've got amazing wit, B. I don't. I can't hardly string a sentence together. I don't open my mouth much because I just dunno what to say half the time."

"Just my luck to bump into the quintessential dumb blonde."

"The what? Anyway, you talk about fucking heroes, well lemme tell you that you're my hero! I think you rule!"

"You rule."

"No, you fucking rule, dammit! Don't fucking argue!"

"Am I getting the wrong impression here? I don't understand why we went to the dance."

"That's because of Bob and Stuart," he shrugged. "I usually just hang with them where ever they go. I don't especially like dancing with girls. Hey! Did you notice that Gloria chick feeling me up? Oh yeah, sorry. You did. Anyway, she was going on and on so much about how sexy I was that she was really giving me the shits majorly. I hate that kind of gushy crap."

"Thanks for the tip." I paused for a moment to drink some milk. "Are you gay?"

"Dunno. Don't think so. I don't feel about other guys the way I feel about you. I know this sounds kind of weird, but I kind of dig you mentally. It's like you've got all the stuff I don't. Are you?... Gay, I mean."

"I'm like you, I guess. It takes somebody pretty special to turn me on. I've only had sex once and that was with a guy. Well, that's if you can call a hand job sex."

Daryl took a gulp of milk to wash down another cookie. "So, you've never been blown? The guys are always raving about how awesome it is, but it's never happened to me."

"Better put your towel on."

"Huh?"

"I think the poster's gonna fall down again."

"That's cool, I'll just... oooh, riiight! Woohoo!" He slid his boxers down his legs and wrapped the towel around his narrow waist. I could see the tent he was making already, so he was obviously getting excited. And he wasn't the only one! Jeez! My stomach was alive with butterflies. I reached behind me and tugged at the poster which fell down as planned. "Oh, damn, B. The poster's down again. No worries, though. I'll fix it."

Playing this game seemed to make the scenario more acceptable. It would be the first real sex for both of us, and turning it into an 'accident' made us feel easier. Pretty soon, Daryl's lean, muscular body was stretched above me as he fixed the poster to the wall. My gaze was riveted to the knot in the towel that kept it secured to his waist just below his flat navel. Damn! It wasn't unravelling! I placed my finger in the loose knot and gave it a gentle tug.

"You're cheating!" Daryl giggled.

I ignored him and watched the towel slowly unwind and fall to the floor. Oh, my God! It was pointed straight at me! I'd never seen a boner this close before. It looked huge! I took a moment to study its beautifully sculptured head and veiny shaft crowned at its base by a small patch of straw-colored hair. His nuts hung in a neat sac and wobbled from side to side as he moved. Jeez! I'd never seen anything so fucking deliciously horny in all my life!

A small pearl of glistening pre-cum emerged from his piss hole. I licked it off, then placed my lips around his knob while I reached around and grabbed his firm buns. I began by moving my head forward and backward. I must've been doing it properly because he was making soft groaning noises. After a little while, I felt his hands on my head. I raised my eyes to see him standing straight up in front of me. It was just the most awesome feeling to have his hard meat in my mouth while his magnificent, muscular chest was heaving directly above me. It was as though I was adoring a pagan sun god. Pretty soon, his pelvic thrusts were synchronized with my head movements. My mouth was filling with a salty taste which I guessed was his pre-cum. It tasted totally wicked!

I could hear his breathing becoming more rapid, and his groaning move up an octave. His thrusts became more aggressive and his fingers dug into my scalp. He arched his back and rammed his monster so far down my throat, his pubes were pressed against my face, squashing my nose. I could hardly breathe and I couldn't help gagging. But it was OK. I wanted my hero's first blow job to be perfect.

"Oh, fuck! I'm cummin'!" He tried to pull away but I kept his crotch against my face by holding on to his buns. I could've sworn his boner had gotten even harder as it thumped the roof of my mouth. Jets of thick, sticky juice exploded in quick succession. His knees buckled and I felt the weight of his hands on my head increase as he fought to remain upright. I hadn't considered swallowing his load before, but now it seemed so natural. It was delicious! And it was an honor to have it inside me.

Finally, his meat slid out of my mouth and dangled in front of my face. I licked it clean before he collapsed on his back, spreadeagled on the bed. "Oh, man!" he sighed as he placed the back of his hand on his forehead. "I can't believe that! It was totally fucking awesome! Totally wicked!" He raised himself on one elbow as if he'd suddenly remembered something. "Hey! You swallowed it! I tried to move away..."

"I didn't want you to move away."

"Oh!" he said thoughtfully, and paused momentarily before resuming. "You want me to blow you now?"

"No, it's OK."

"But it's only fair, man."

"Doesn't seem right. I look up to you and..."

"Don't start with that fucking hero bullshit again, B. Now get those boxers off and stand up. That's an order."

I wasn't the kind of guy who liked being ordered around but, somehow, Daryl's order sent thrills of anticipation up and down my spine. My uncut boner was covered in slimy pre-cum but he put it in his mouth anyway. I couldn't believe it. A westie being sucked by a kneeling sun god! Jeez! It didn't seem right.

After a short time, he took my cock out of his mouth. "Hey, are you gonna stand there like some stunned mullet? Get into it, man! Hold my head and fuck my face, dammit!" His face dissolved into a broad, irresistible grin. Woohoo! He liked me! He really fucking liked me!

The electric sensation of his tongue wrapped around my sensitive, uncut head was indescribable. It was so intense, I soon forgot all about sun gods and westies. My loins were in charge and my conscience had absolutely no say in the matter. The sight of my shaft sliding in and out of his full, firm lips was one I'd never forget as long as I lived. Every now and then his smiling green eyes would look up at me, so I knew he was happy to be giving me such incredibly erotic pleasure.

"Aaaaahhhhhh!" My whole body stiffened, then went weak at the knees. I felt his hand on my balls. Thrills zapped through my body like lightning bolts. Never before had I experienced such an intensity of feeling as wad after wad of my sticky load shot down his throat. Yes! Down his throat! He was swallowing my juice! Unbelievable!

That night we shared the same bed, just chatting and exploring each other's bodies before we drifted off to sleep.

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