The Beachfront Bar by The_Technician
Dive into “The Beachfront Bar” by The_Technician—a sizzling gay sex story set against the backdrop of sun-soaked shores and sultry nights. Join passionate encounters and unforgettable connections that will leave you craving more. Perfect for those who enjoy steamy romance and thrilling escapades by the sea!
Sometimes it takes a little push to help someone become what they always wished they had the guts to be. In this Gay fantasy, Tracey gets that push.
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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Tracey stopped just in front of the entrance to the bar. His hand was almost touching the door. His mouth was dry. His legs were trembling slightly. This was the closest he had ever come to actually entering The Beachfront Bar. A few months ago he first drove through the parking lot. That time he hadn’t even slowed down. It was only on his sixth time that he had actually stopped– just for a moment. It was a long, slow path from the parking lot to the door of The Beachfront. Shutting off the engine…. getting out of the car…. walking up the walk toward the bar…. each new step had taken weeks, but tonight he finally stood at the entrance.
The Beachfront Bar was an openly gay bar. A large billboard across the front of the bar advertized a “Drag Queen Review” in huge letters. In smaller letters it announced that Thursday night was “Amateur Drag Queen Singer Night,” Friday night was “Amateur Drag Queen Imposter Night,” And Saturday was “Amateur Drag Queen Stripper Night.”
Tracey knew that if he ever got up the nerve to enter any of those contests he could easily win. He had won many times before in the safety of his bedroom, singing into a pretend microphone while strutting across the floor in his high heels and garter belt. His voice was excellent, but very high pitched for a man. His body was trim, almost petite. And his ability to mimic the voice and actions of Marilyn Monroe or Lily Saint Cere were astounding. Yes, he could win– if he were to enter the contest– if he were to ever actually go inside the bar.
He started to turn around when a gentle voice spoke from behind him, “The closest door is always the most difficult to open, isn’t it?”
Tracey turned and found himself looking into a rugged, handsome face framed with short, but curly blond hair. The blue eyes burned deep into his own. “Once you open that door and go inside, everyone will know your secret, won’t they?” the gentle voice continued. “Once you go inside, everyone will know that you are gay.”
The man’s voice changed. It remained gentle, but somehow became more soothing. “That’s a hard thing to do alone” he said. “Why don’t we walk through the door together. Then we can sit and talk.”
A strong hand took his and suddenly they were inside, together, sitting at a booth in the corner of the dimly lit bar. An amateur contestant was stripping on stage. She– he– looked radiant in the spotlight and Tracey could imagine himself going through the routine. Several heavily muscled young men in tight gold short shorts worked behind the bar while two or three more effeminate young men in high heels, black mesh stockings and corsets acted as “waitresses.” One of the waitresses– her name tag said Marti– came over to the table. The voice returned, “My name is Jeff. Let me buy you a drink and we can talk.”
As they sipped at their drinks, Jeff asked Tracey about his struggle to enter the bar and what it all meant to him. Tracey poured out his story. Time flew by and suddenly one of the barmen shouted loudly, “Last call. We close in fifteen minutes.”
Could it actually be almost two am?
Jeff held Tracey’s hand. “Why don’t we get one more round and then walk out on the beach. Come with me and I promise you a weekend you will never forget.”
After all the time and strength and courage it had taken to come through the front door, it took but a moment and seemed so natural to walk out the back door onto the private beach with Jeff. They had walked only a few hundred yards into the darkness when Jeff pulled Tracey towards him and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Tracey had never felt anything like this before. Then Jeff’s hands moved beneath his shirt. Soft yet firm fingers rolled his nipples and pinched and pulled. All Tracey could do was moan with the combination of pleasure and pain. Soon he was standing naked in Jeff’s arms, trembling, ready to do whatever Jeff asked or demanded.
And then they appeared out of the darkness.
Loud voices called out suddenly from the dim shadows. “Well, what do we have here?” one voice mockingly asked. Another voice answered, “Looks like a couple of queers getting ready to fuck.” Strong arms tore Tracey from Jeff’s gentle grasp. He had not heard them drive up, but they must have driving up the beach because there was a Jeep sitting idling almost beside them.
There were four of them. They threw Jeff into the back of the Jeep and turned to Tracey. “So you were ready to ride a cock tonight, eh?” one of them said. “We’ll give you something to ride,” another added with a laugh.
Two of the men grabbed Tracey by the arms and dragged him backwards toward the Jeep. A third reached down toward something at the back of the Jeep and Tracey heard a slight pop. The man then stood before Tracey holding what he recognized as a trailer hitch ball cover. He reached inside the plastic cap and then held up his fingers covered with a thick film of a white grease. “All nicely cleaned and freshly lubricated, just like you’re going to be,” the man said with a sneer.
With that he reached between Tracey’s legs and smeared the grease into his crack, pressing a gob of it firmly into the small indentation of Tracey’s puckered asshole. To Tracey’s surprise his cock sprang back into an erection as soon as the stranger’s fingers touched his virgin hole.
“He likes it!” exclaimed the man. “Let’s see if he enjoys the ride.”
With that the other two men pulled Tracey backwards off his feet and forced him down on the trailer hitch of the Jeep. The Jeep sat high off the sand and the shaft of the trailer hitch mount extended several inches out from the frame. With his back against the tailgate of the Jeep, Tracey’s anus lined up with the hitch ball. Hands pushed down on his shoulders and the greased ball slid painfully into his ass. He tried to pull himself back up, but his arms were held back and slightly above his head. He felt the two men tying his hands to something on the edges of the Jeep.