Beach Bums: Gay Erotic Fiction by Neil Plakcy | Paperback | Barnes & Noble
Beach Bums: Gay Erotic Fiction

Beach Bums: Gay Erotic Fiction

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by Neil Plakcy

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There’s something so sexy about a beach—and the men who hang around it. Whether it’s on the ocean, a lake, or a New Zealand river, beaches mean water and sunshine and handsome guys showing off what God or genetics gave them. Pick any beach around the world, and you’re bound to find excellent eye candy. These gorgeous guys are the stuff of


There’s something so sexy about a beach—and the men who hang around it. Whether it’s on the ocean, a lake, or a New Zealand river, beaches mean water and sunshine and handsome guys showing off what God or genetics gave them. Pick any beach around the world, and you’re bound to find excellent eye candy. These gorgeous guys are the stuff of gay fantasy—from sleek swimmers to muscular surfers and boarders to sun-worshipping naturists. Their skins are toned golden brown, and their bodies shimmer with droplets of water. The stories in this collection showcase those Beach Bums. From a Massachusetts winter to a hot Oregon summer, tropical St. Maarten to Venice’s Muscle Beach, sweethearts and strangers meet for love, seduction and sex to the accompaniment of the crashing surf. A hog ridin' horn dog heads for San Francisco's Ocean Beach looking for action in Rob Rosen's "Rules is Rules' while a water polo champ turned lifeguard has everyone jumping in his pool in Dominic Santi's "Mix and Match," A sexy silver-haired surfer intrigues and attracts in the fun "February Fantasy." Younger guys, older guys, beach volleyball players and bodybuilders—they’re all hot and they’re all here. Here’s hoping they inspire your own beach dreams!

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

"Paired with sunscreen or a light, cooling beverage of choice, this book is the perfect complement to a restful and recharging jaunt to the seashore... or wherever else men gather to shuck their cares and their clothes, dive in, and get wet. Be sure you bring a towel when you set off on these journeys to the erotic side, because you just might need it."

"Younger guys, older guys, beach volleyball players and bodybuilders—they’re all hot and they’re all here."
Erotica Readers and Writers Association

"Gay erotica with the perfect theme for summer — lashings of sex on the beach."
Erotic Trade Only

Product Details

Cleis Press
Publication date:
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Product dimensions:
5.50(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.70(d)

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Read an Excerpt

February Fantasy
Miss Peach

It was earlier than I was used to getting up, but I had been dealing with some crap with people at work and needed to clear my head before I went into the office a few hours later. So at dawn, I found myself wandering down to the beach.
By all accounts it was not the most beautiful beach in the world. It hugged the coast of Massachusetts and after several hurricanes over the past few years, it had become mostly a rocky expanse of land with a few large rocks on which to perch and watch the waves. I had been living in this little town for only a few months, house-sitting for friends who used the place as a summerhouse.
It was late February so it was downright cold. I’d hustled into my parka and made my way down the road of this quiet summer town, emptied and silent with only the sound of my sneakers and the surf to add a soundtrack. I walked quickly to get my blood flowing. I jammed my hands into my jacket pockets and pulled up my hood. In minutes, I had reached the beach and found a nice big rock to sit on. I curled my feet up underneath me and snuggled into my parka.
I stared at the waves crashing and ebbing, thoroughly engrossed in the movement of nature. It was starting to make me forget about all my problems at work. I relaxed into the wind, enjoying its sting on my cheeks. The smell of the sea air lulled me into a sweet zone.
My legs were starting to fall asleep so I stood up to wake them up. That’s when I saw him striding toward the surf in a blue wet suit. I watched as he stretched his muscles, bending to touch his toes. He had a nicely chiseled ass.
He pulled the hood of the suit over his ears, arched back once, pushing out his torso to limber up. He watched the waves and as a big one came in, he ran into the water, fluidly disappearing into the wave. I watched him swim, head bobbing above the water every few seconds. It was like watching a dancer. He seemed to be one with the ocean. No hesitation despite the cold.
I watched him swim toward a large rock rising out of the water about a quarter mile from shore. With stealth, he climbed the rock, walked toward the far side of it, raised his hands above his head and dove into the water, out of sight of the beach.
I looked for him in the surf until I saw his head surface a few feet away from the rock. He swam back to the place at which he entered the water, and body-surfed a wave to the shore. In one motion, he stood up and strode out of the surf. I sat down quickly so I wouldn’t be so conspicuous, but he noticed me anyway and waved.
I gave him a shy wave back. I watched him as he stood very close to his pile of clothes at the edge of the dunes. Deftly, he pulled off his hood and I saw the shaggy mass of silver hair as he shook it out. Then, he peeled off his suit to his waist and yanked on his shirt and sweater. He slid the suit off the rest of the way and briefly before he hustled into his pants, I caught a glimpse of his naked pert ass.
I was wishing he’d turn around so I could get the full effect. But he didn’t. He got dressed as fast as possible and pulled on a parka, gathering his wet suit and heading into the dunes after giving me a quick nod of acknowledgement. I nodded back.
Wow, I thought. Just under 30 years old myself, I wasn’t usually attracted to the silver-haired set but this man was gorgeous. What a body! I was intrigued. Did he come here every morning? I thought he might since this was an especially cold morning that didn’t seem to faze him.
I looked at my watch. My hands were numb even having been in my pockets. I was suddenly aware again of the frigidity of the air. It was time for me to head back to the house and have a quick cup of coffee before getting to work.
The yummy sight of the morning buoyed me up through the day. When I got home, I made a frozen dinner and poured a glass of wine. After eating, I sank into the plush armchair in the living room. I left the blinds open and turned down the lights, enjoying the sight of the moonlight on the water and the crisp starriness of the winter sky. I drank some more wine and relaxed.
My mind turned back to the vision I had been treated to at dawn. The sky that morning was all pink and orangey. The man who swam was decked out in a blue wet suit that contrasted nicely with the dawn and the gray surf. In my mind, I painted it. If I had had my paints with me here, I would have busted them out right then. I would have loved to capture that image on canvas.
I felt a little like Walt Whitman watching the young men on the beach. I couldn’t get a good sense of how old this man was—he had gray hair but so did many people I knew who were in their 30’s. His body belied any notion of age. Such a fine ass. Such a beautiful torso.
I made up my mind that I was going to the beach the next morning at dawn, just in case he was there again. I’d try to keep myself more concealed. I didn’t want to appear as though I was purposely ogling him. (But, oh, I sure was.)
After a third glass of wine and a peek at the news, I sank into the king-sized bed—a luxury for me—and started fantasizing. I imagined having my own wet suit and meeting him nonchalantly and seemingly accidentally at the edge of the water. We smiled a hello and in unison dove into the waves. As he swam, I followed closely behind him, watching his head and arms moving in and out of the water.
He climbed the rock once again. I instead swam around to the backside of it in order to make my way back to the place at which we entered the water. There, I looked up and saw him form a diving pose and plunge into the surf. I swam ahead.
Quickly, he overtook me. I was behind him again. I imagined us riding a wave to shore and getting up at the same time. I’d say a shy hello. With a sly smile, he’d return the greeting. “I saw you watching me,” he’d say. He’d move closer. “I know you liked what you saw.” Then he’d put his arm around my shoulder, grabbing my head and pulling me into a ferocious kiss.
I lay in the bed, thinking about us taking that kiss farther, peeling our wet suits off, tugging them over our already hard cocks. It was cold. We pulled our clothes and parkas on before we tumbled to the rocky ground. I imagined us moving our hands along each other’s bodies and to each other’s members, stroking slowly, kissing all the while. I would run my fingers through his loose silver hair as we snuggled closer under our parkas.
“My car’s right there,” he pointed to a Volvo parked a few feet away. “It’s warmer in there…”

Meet the Author

Neil Plakcy’s fiction has appeared in the collections Cowboys, Hot Cops, and Best Gay Romance. The editor of Skater Boys, Surfer Boys, and Hard Hats as well as the author of Paws and Reflect, he also writes the book column for He lives in South Florida.

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