DavidHeaderLogo

 

Lifeguard, Beach, Sam, Sunglasses

DAVID 137

Lifeguard — CHAPTER ONE

 

They didn’t have speedos big enough to fit him.

David137And by that, I don’t mean that he was fat, or that his waist was big. It wasn’t his waist that was big. It was his butt…and his thighs…and his…equipment. The first time I saw him strip in the locker room, he was facing away from me, and the perfect roundness of his ass just grabbed you. This was the ultimate bubble butt, and when he’d shift his weight from one leg to the other, his hips would tilt, and one ass cheek would rise up higher than the other, and it would flex. It would lift itself, and then he’d relax for a second, and it would do it again. The skin on his ass was smooth as a baby’s bottom…a creamy beige pink. Like satin. And when he stepped into his trunks, his ass cheeks spread, and I had the feeling that I was looking at sacred ground, the holy grail, Shangri-la. He casually spread his thighs and that’s when I caught a glimpse of…it.

I just caught a glimpse mind you, but I was in awe. I was surprised to find myself staring at him at all. I thought I’d have enough self control to fake it. To seem mildly interested at his size at the very most. But my eyes were committing the most flagrant act of mutiny I’ve ever experienced. So was my mouth. So was my head. My brain told them all to look away, to not get caught staring. They would not obey. Because this…was an impossibility standing before me. Something about him wasn’t fair. It was just wrong to be that good looking. It was shocking. It was not fair to have a body like that AND be hung like a horse.

He pulled the speedos up around his thighs and that was as high as they would go. He had tons of fabric to hold onto at the waist, but the leg openings were cut for a mere mortal’s thighs, not the tree trunks of a god. It was at that point that he did something that made me swoon. I swear. My heart stopped for a moment. I held my breath. He pulled up hard on the waist, and then he shifted his hips back and forth, wiggling that perfect rump right at me, until the trunks shimmied up his thighs and wrapped around his hips. He let go. The swimsuit clung like a giant rubber band nestled under his butt cheeks. I saw him grab the front of the suit, and with his other hand he gathered himself into the pouch and adjusted himself so that the huge ravager fit as comfortably as possible into the front of the trunks. He shoved his hand in there and moved, lifted, and adjusted. He reached down and grabbed the leg openings near his nuts and pulled, hiking the crotch just a little higher so that his bull balls were wrapped snugly and comfortably in the thin, stretchy fabric. And then he grabbed the waist again and pulled up. The fabric stretched to its limit. He reached back, grabbed the back of the waist and yanked up. The stretchy cloth dug deep into the crevice of his ass, outlining the globes of his rump like shrink wrap, and then he pulled the drawstrings tight. The whole suit barely covered him. It came nowhere near his waist. It hugged his hips, and the waistband came to the top of his butt crack. The whole tops of his buttocks were visible, and even with the drawstring pulled tight, you couldn’t help but wonder what was holding those trunks up. They were clinging with the most tenuous hold to the beginning of the upper curve of his ass. You just knew that with a few steps, they would threaten to creep down. All he had to do was bend over, and his butt would be more exposed than covered. I couldn’t believe he was going to go out on the beach like that. He wasn’t going to just cause stares. There was going to be a riot. A crowd would gather to see this awesomely beautiful freak of nature scanning the ocean for trouble, while he bronzed in the southern California sun.

He folded his clothes neatly and piled them in the locker. I saw his briefs. Plain, white, cotton bikinis. And the pouch had been stretched way out of shape. He slammed the locker shut, and then took his whistle, which he had on a thick, soft piece of white rope, and hung it around his huge neck. He took his sunglasses and clipped them to the rope, and then he said, “Aw, shoot.”

He went through the trouble of undoing the padlock and opened his locker again, and took out a bottle of sunscreen and a towel, and when he turned to place them on the bench, he saw me.

I froze. I could feel my eyes. I was the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. And I thought I’d seen everything, but when I saw his face, I just about…got mad? Oh my god, I thought. That’s not fair.

“Oh hi!” he said, and he extended his arm. “I’m the new lifeguard. My name’s Dave.”

“…hi…” I squeaked. I stared. That’s all I could do. Do you understand? I knew I was staring and I knew I shouldn’t be staring and I wanted to stop staring but I couldn’t stop staring. He smiled. Brilliant white teeth. This was not a man. This was a genetically engineered Saturday morning cartoon come to life, at 150% of normal size. He stood there, smiling, with his hand extended, waiting patiently, as though he was used to this, until finally, I came halfway to my senses. I shook his hand. My whole hand was swallowed up by his huge paw.

“Oh say,” he said. “I’m sorry about my language just then.” He had a southern drawl…Ahm sorry about muh language just then. But it somehow seemed so natural on him, as though I should have expected it. He seemed completely and totally oblivious to his own size, and he spoke to me as though we were new neighbors meeting across the backyard fence. “Oh that’s okay,” I finally said. “It’s not a…a nothing to worry…it’s not a thing…” I sighed. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He turned to face me. Oh…my…god. I stared, ok? I stared. I stared at the straining fabric between his legs. At the most gorgeous set of aqua eyes I’ve ever seen. At the most outrageously muscled body imaginable. Where did he come from? I’ve seen dozens of bodybuilders waddling across the beaches of L.A., but this was just something special. This was a work of art, a wonder of nature…like the Grand Canyon.

“You know, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve cursed in the last month. I’m just so excited to be here. My first day off and here I’ve got just the whole day to sit in the sun.”

“You’re not working today?” I asked.

“Well, I did a few hours this morning for Ted. He had to leave early. But technically, this is my day off. But I got my whistle just in case something happens.” He patted his chest and turned the whistle. “And I’m sorry. You have me at a disadvantage. I don’t believe I know your name.”

Yep, a southern boy. With manners like that, no doubt about it. It seemed a bizarre juxtaposition to see this hairy-chested muscle giant smiling with an air of gentility. “My name?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“Oh! You want to know…my name”

He grinned.

“My name! Uh…is…S-sam!”

“I’m pleased to meet you Sam.”

“I know. I-I-I mean…hello. It’s…great to meet you. Too.”

He just grinned.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I just gotta say it. My god you’re big.”

“Guilty as charged!” he said.

“I just…I just can’t believe it.”

“Well,” he began, “Seein’ as how we’ll be working together, I’m sure you’ll
get used to it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, smiling disarmingly. “My momma’s used to it. She still grabs me by the ear when I get too big for my britches.”

And of course, when he said that, my eyes dove to his hips. Here he was, all shucks and golly mister, the big handsome farm boy in the big city, and you just wanted to bring him a glass of milk, you know? But at the same time, there was that package that he carried around in front of him. How could you not look at it? It was obscene! And I felt that you were supposed to pretend like you didn’t see it. Most guys are proud to have a visible bulge. This was…obscene! I found myself torn. He was my coworker now, and he seemed as good-natured as they come. But he was a six and a half foot tall sex god! And when I thought of him sweaty and rocking his hips as he rammed that monster in and out of someone, I felt guilty.

“I guess I should tell you,” he said. “You’re probably gonna get a lot of Code
1’s. I got six this morning.”

“Six?”

“Yeah. When I’m around, folks just suddenly decide they need CPR. Mouth to mouth. Chest massage...”

“Oh I get it.”

He hiked his waistband up, not that it did any good.

“Well,” he said. “I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure we’ll be seein’ each other again. I think Tuesday we have a shift together.”

“Oh?” I said, feigning disinterest. “Well, I’ll see you then.”

“Oh I’m just gonna lay myself down right in front of the shack. You’ll see me all day!”

“Swell,” I murmured. And then I repeated to myself over and over: Watch the water. Watch the water.

(Lifeguard shack by lalverson. My thanks to Kristiansaand for sending it.)

 

 

2004

 

STORY CONTINUES AT DAVID 180 

RETURN TO GALLERY