The Favorite Place

Just another quiet evening at the beach.

The quarter moon was dim above the oceanfront; winter fog adding a layer of gauze over the brightest object in the sky.

But on this cool evening, the dim light was welcome refuge to the pair of lovers lying on the beach. Cool temperatures and foggy evenings tended to keep most people away from the sands and waves. Except those more daring, or those wanting to take advantage of the peacefulness and solitude of the beach during times like this.

The couple that the partial moon smiled upon fit both categories. Daring to show their love for one another because they were men, and most of society would shun them if they knew the pair’s true relationship.

The evening began after a long and brutal day on the job, and the two needed to unwind. What better way than a picnic and a game of friendly Frisbee? Friendly games for these two meant competition and one-upmanship. While others might get disgusted or tense trying to compete with their lover, the sport worked for Starsky and Hutch in positive ways. Competition was as vital to their relationship as sex.

At first the taller of the two would use his considerable arm length to throw the plastic disk far above and beyond the reach of his friend.

Then Starsky would use his nimble fingers and bouncy step to spin some fancy maneuvering in his throw, tricking his longer legged opponent on the Frisbee’s destination. Several of these maneuvers caused poor Hutch to stumble in the soft sand that made his gait clumsy.

After one such tumble – his third or fourth, the blond got up, wiped his face, and didn’t bother to dust the gritty particles from his shirt. A clear indication to Starsky to be on the lookout for a sneaky move from his partner.

Sure enough, Hutch picked up the plastic sliver and smacked it once to shake the sand off. He held it vertically between his thumb and forefinger, and with a hard flick of the wrist sent it careening in a wide arch more than 100 feet to Starsky’s right – into the cold, gray-blue waters of the ocean.

“What’d you have to go do that for, ya big dumb blond?” To say that Starsky was annoyed would be like saying he worshiped his car. The sand was cold and gritty on his feet as he took off his shoes and socks, and rolled up his jeans with the intent to wade into the waters.

However, before Starsky approached the shoreline, he was tackled from behind and knocked down. Beneath him the sand was cool, pat, and damp as his cheek was pressed into it, the surf having moved farther out earlier in the evening.

The force of the impact was just enough to startle the breath from Starsky, send his nerves on alert, and heighten his libido.

“Shouldn’t you be rolling those pants down, not up?” Whispered a throaty voice across Starsky’s left ear, sending shivers through his ear canal, down his spine, around his abdomen and into his groin.

The broad hips above his sashayed suggestively, forcing a soft moan from Starsky’s lips.

Hutch slid off Starsky’s back to the side, while pulling up his sweatshirt at the same time. “You wanna play dirty, plan on getting dirty.” Hutch continued suggestively. “And since you’re so dusty, we should get these messy clothes off you.”

With each pass of the coarse, large fingers over his back, Starsky’s body relaxed further into the pat sand.

Recognizing the breathing patterns coming from Starsky, Hutch rolled him onto his back before his stroking fingers put his lover to sleep.

When Hutch’s hand crept up the front of Starsky’s sweatshirt and continued a more sensual stroke, a grin appeared over Starsky’s face. His eyes were slit half-open as he watched Hutch’s blond hair fall in messy layers over his forehead; as he felt each pass of the roughened fingertips over his nipples.

Above him, Hutch sensed the burning beneath those dark eyes all the way to his heart, igniting a fire in his veins that scorched through his fingertips and passed back out onto Starsky’s chest and abdomen, completely melting any thoughts of resistance Starsky may have had.

Slowly, Hutch lowered his head and connected with Starsky’s lips gently, softly. All the while his fingers continued their ministrations. Unable to hold back anymore, Starsky raised both hands and grabbed the halo-encased head to pull it closer. Meshing lips opened to clashing teeth and dancing tongues.

As his desire climbed higher, Starsky’s hands moved to the front of Hutch’s shirt and he struggled between their pressed bodies to remove the thick cotton pullover. Releasing Hutch’s lips, Starsky panted, “Come on, babe. You’re making me hot. Move some.”

Hutch grinned lazily down at his lover and smacked his lips at the view of the tangled curls and the flushed skin. “How hot?”

“So hot, I’m gonna need your steamy mouth to cool me off.”

Abruptly Hutch got up from where he was laying, startling Starsky as he raised himself on his elbows and his ever widening eyes followed the retreating form. “Where…where ya going? Get back here and finish what you started!”

Several yards behind Starsky’s taught and wired form, Hutch stopped, removed his pullover and sandals, then flopped on the blanket they had used to sit on while eating; lying suggestively on his hip and patting a space next to him. His motions sufficient language for his intentions.

In less than a blink of an eye, Starsky scrambled to his feet to join his partner on the softer, yet still firm material.

The blanket was nestled in the crook of a hillside; the craggy, exposed landscape sheltering them and looming over their passionate profession of love like a guardian. The moon seemed to glow a little brighter as it peeked from behind its veil of fog, as inch by inch tanned skin was exposed to its view. The waves softened their approach to the shore to provide soothing background music to the pounding of the lovers’ hearts.

Hands caressed first one focal point, then another. Bare skin slid over bare skin. Two turgid cocks found and greeted each other in love and desire.

At first Hutch, then Starsky, would gain the upper hand as two pair of legs became entangled. First a dark head, then a light one would rise and fall in a bobbing motion. During the sensuous dance a plush rear-end, then a muscular one would reflect the sliver of light from the sky, as bodies came together, then parted during the age-old ritual.

Rather than cooling down their desire, the chilled air instead increased it tenfold, as each pass of breeze between soft cheeks and sweaty groins would heighten their burning lust. Beneath the expanse of toned bodies, the blanket shifted and crinkled, until it could no longer protect the men from the gritty sand.

But Starsky and Hutch cared not.

As their lovemaking peaked and their heartbeats subsided, the quarter moon slipped back behind its filmy haze, the surf greeted their passion in pounding waves, and granules of sand dusted down cooling bodies.

Once his breath was back in his lungs, Hutch inquired of his partner, “do you want to play another round?”

Chuckling at the double meaning, Starsky’s reply was to turn to his side, grab Hutch’s face between his hands, and kiss the sated lips deeply. “I’m not quite ‘up’ for another game, but I might be ‘up’ for some desert at home.”

Hutch laughed loudly and deeply, his face lighting more than the moon and stars combined, and he hugged his irrepressible partner close.

He sighed deeply as Starsky snuggled in and gathered the edge of the blanket over them.

“I always wondered why the beach was your favorite place, Hutch.”

“And?”

“And now I know.” He watched with awe as a shooting star shone through the haze. “You know what? It’s mine too, as long as you’re with me.”