A gay story: Twink from Sconset Beach
New Beginnings: Twink from Sconset Beach (Part 1)
Joe Lewin
This is a fictional story about consenting adults. If you like it, leave me a comment and check out my other stories on this site.
I’m 50 and semi-retired. I’m in fairly good shape. I’m not ripped but I’ve managed to keep my weight down over the years. And my now almost-all-white hair is still very much in abundance and still gets curly when I let it grow out a bit.
I did well in business, and I’m done with the 9-to-5 grind but I keep myself active by serving on a few boards of directors for big private and public companies. While I take responsibilities with respect to each very seriously, the work I perform does not keep me fully occupied.
I lost my wife to cancer 5 years ago. My kids are grown with families of their own. I see and talk to them often but mostly I’m alone.
I own a home on Nantucket. I’m on island from the end of June until the end of October, except when I’m traveling. The house is fairly new, with a lot of glass and a lot of modern features. It sits up above Sconset beach, with a seawall at the east end of my lawn. It’s a 10 foot drop to the beach, but I have a set of steps that lead down to the beach.
Between the house and the seawall is a long yard. In the middle of the yard is a 20′ by 40′ pool with a built-in hot tub. The house has 6 guest bedrooms in addition to my master suite and each bedroom has its own bathroom. There’s a home theater in the basement that the kids and grandkids love; I use it when they’re here. It’s a house made for entertaining. People who visit usually leave reluctantly. And I like that.
It was the week after the Fourth of July. I had had a full house of guests for the holiday week and had purposely begged off any visits in the two-week period following the holiday. The beach was filled with all types of people trying to beat the heat. I had opened up an umbrella and was sitting below it, reading a book, atop the seawall.
I had spotted a group of what looked to be college students about 30 feet up the beach, sitting at water’s edge. Within an hour or so the tide started to encroach on their blankets and towels. There were two boys in the group. They turned to look for a place to move. They looked a little frustrated. The beach was packed. There was really no place to go that would keep them right at water’s edge. I could see them looking up and down the beach and saw the pained look on their faces when they realized that there wasn’t any better real estate withing easy walking distance.
They soon realized that the only open part of beach was sitting in front of my steps. This was not unusual. Most people left a 10 foot or so square opening in front of my steps. I guess they assumed that the owners would want access to the beach. The boys called their other friends over (there were six in all—4 girls and the two boys). I could tell they were explaining the situation to the girls. I watched as the four girls and one of the boys, a redhead, started to gather their stuff together. The other boy, a brunette, started to walk toward the open spot in front of my steps.
“You better hurry,” I chuckled to myself, as I noticed at least 4 other groups who were sitting surfside survey the beach area and noting the opening. He must have sensed that others were looking so he sped up and reached the open area in front of my steps. One of the girls had come up behind him and dropped a couple of towels, making it official. Tentatively he came to the base of the wall and yelled up to me. “Excuse me. Do you mind if we set up in front of your gate?” I looked down at him and told him that I didn’t mind at all. He and his friends did not need to know that this part of the beach is public, not private. I had no authority to keep anyone off any part of the beach in front of my house.
“Thanks!” he shouted. Now that he was closer I got a good look at him. His skin was tanned and he was cute. He was thin, only about 130 pounds or so. His face was a little feminine. His nose was upturned and he had very full lips. He wore sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes. And he had a very thick mop of hair on the top of his head.
“My pleasure,” I said.
I went back to my book but I was distracted. I couldn’t explain it, but this young guy had captured my attention. I found myself gazing down to where he lay on a towel about 12 feet below me. I noted that his back was broad and brown and tapered down to his red boxer bathing suit. His legs were muscled and tanned and covered in light brown hair. At one point he rolled over on his back, stood up and looked up in my direction, stretching his arms up to the sky. I felt a strange stirring in my groin when he lifted his arms to the sky exposing a dark thatch of hair under each arm.
What the hell was going on? Over the last 5 years I had barely thought about sex and for 20+ years before that I hadn’t been attracted to any guy. And here I was having these strange feelings for a guy less than half my age. What the hell?
He must of felt me staring at him because he looked in my direction and smiled. I smiled back at him. Inadvertently, I actually licked my lips. As I did, I was amazed to see his smile broaden. He carried on his conversation with his friends as if nothing was going on, but every few minutes he would look to see if I was still there and still watching him.
As the afternoon wore on the beach crowd thinned. At one point I looked up from my book and was surprised to see that there were only a handful of beach goers left in front of my seawall. The girls in the six-some below me had left the two boys sitting alone, chatting and watching the waves.
I stood up and walked to my pool cabana and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge. As I turned to walk back, I thought of the two boys and grabbed two extra bottles.
“Hey,” I yelled, “you guys thirsty?”
The redhead looked up and started to say “no thanks,” but he was preempted by his friend who yelled “absolutely, thanks!”
I was about to throw the bottles down to them but then had a second thought. “The gates unlocked,” I yelled, “why don’t you grab your stuff and come up and get them. You can get out of the sun for a little bit.”
They looked at each other and without saying a word they each picked up a towel and walked to the gate. As they were coming up, I adjusted the umbrella so that it would provide better shade for them.
They got to the top of the stairs, and I heard the redhead say, “Holy shit” when he looked at my yard and house. I laughed and they both laughed. They walked over and stood in front of me. “Here you go,” I said, “have a seat,” as I handed each his water. They looked at each other again and then the brunette took the seat beside me, with his redhead friend sitting on his other side.
“I’m Paul,” I said.
“I’m Josh,” the brunette said while pointing to his friend, “he’s Nicky.”
“Well, Nicky and Josh, welcome to my home, or at least my backyard.”
We then began to talk. They told me they were 19 and from a small town in central Connecticut. They were staying in a house nearby, on the beach, that was owned by the aunt of one of the girls in their group. The girls were all 20 or 21 and friends of Josh’s sister, who was one of the girls.