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The volleyball game was fast and furious, but in the end we kicked butt. I pause to high five Daryl and jeer at the losers. Guess that’ll teach Rafe and H to challenge the young guys. Stamina, man! I look around for Jim, hoping he caught my hard-won victory but he’s nowhere to be seen.

I mosey on over to the grill where Simon is flipping the burgers and dogs with professional panache. In honor of the holiday, Simon is wearing the gag gift we got him a chef’s hat in red, white, and blue. Together with hardass shades and bright red swim trunks, he was a pretty… um, impressive sight. I value my life and not a hint of a smile is showing on my face. “Hey, Simon! You seen Jim?”

Simon pauses to carefully flip a burger that was threatening to crumble. Crisis averted, he turns to me, grinning. “Why, I do believe I saw Jim head over to the Clothing Optional part of the beach.”

“The nudie beach? Wow, unsuspected depths! Go Jim!” I smirk back at Simon. “So, Daryl made a trip over there yet?”

“No,” Simon said, as sternly as he can while grinning like a shark. “And he’s not going to. I raised my boy to be polite and walking around staring, with his tongue hanging out, is not polite.”

“Hey, you’re only a teenager once.” I point out cheerfully, as I plunge my hand into the cooler and pull up two ice cold beers.

“Thank God for that!” agrees Simon and waves me off with his spatula, before serving up the burger that Megan is pointing to with hungry enthusiasm.

I walk along the water, enjoying the wet sand between my toes. The beach is crowded since it’s the Fourth of July and a hot, sunny day to boot. I love the high energy of crowds but I can see why Jim would retreat to a quieter section.

The beach curves and then there’s the fence that divides the two beaches. At the entrance, I’m stopped by an actual security guard who tells me I need to take off my swim trunks before I can go in. No problem. I’m an old hand at nudist camps. Been going since I was out of diapers and officially nude.

Carrying my trunks and the two beers, I set out looking for Jim. It’s surprisingly difficult in a sea of naked bodies to pick out one particular body. Actually, it reminds me of the animal documentaries I’ve seen of sea lions and walruses during the reproductive season. It’s all those slumped bodies carefully staking out their territories, with the noisy kids running around between them. Still, it is quieter than the public beach.

Finally, I catch sight of Jim and head on over. He’s lying on his towel and apparently he decided to take a nap. Oh man… Big mistake! I stand over Jim’s sleeping body and realize this is not going to be pretty.

I distinctly remember helping Jim apply the sunblock. Lots of sunblock, all over his back and chest, arms and legs. I was pretty thorough with his face and ears too. People always forget the ears. Of course, he was wearing trunks at the time.

Now I’m looking at this cherry red stripe across Jim’s groin. Even his dick is glowing red. I feel a pang of sympathy through my silent chortles. I’ve had this happen to me too. Of course, I was three at the time. But you don’t ever make this mistake again, I guarantee.

Oh, well, might as well get this over with. Crouching down to block the sun from Jim’s face, I shake him awake.

“Huh, Sandburg, wha’?” Jim’s pretty lethargic from the sun.

“Sorry, man, you gotta get up. We’ve got a problem here.” I wave in the general direction of Jim’s waist.

Jim looks down and his eyes grow wide. Then the pain kicks in. “Oh, shit! Ow, ow. Fuck!”

I hand over a cold beer and Jim gratefully presses it to his dick and sighs with relief. “Come on, Jim. We need to get you home. I’ve got plenty of aloe vera and that’ll help a lot. Trust me.”

It hurts too much for Jim to do anything but follow directions obediently. I help him up, gathering his trunks and towel. We make our way down the beach, leaving a wake of winces and sympathetic murmurs of “Bad luck, dude!”

We hit a bit of a snag at the exit. No way is Jim getting those trunks back on. We settle for wrapping the towel loosely around his waist. Jim’s holding the towel with one hand and he’s got the cold beer jammed down the front with the other. He looks really odd, but the Ellison Glare of Death holds off the worst of the comments. I trail along behind his limping figure, doing my best not to laugh. Poor guy!

I settle Jim carefully in the passenger seat of the truck. Jim’s silent, his face pale and sweating. I want to get him home. Slipping around to the driver’s side, I get in and drive as quickly as I legally can.

Back at the loft, I send Jim in to the bathroom, while I get the aloe vera gel. I stop off in the kitchen to grab two more cold bottles of beer.

Jim is huddled miserably on the toilet seat, waiting for me. I twist the cap off one bottle and hand it to him. He snatches it gratefully and takes a long swig.

“Here you go, Jim. Let’s trade.” I switch the old bottle that Jim’s clutching to his dick for the fresh cold one.

Jim sighs. “Oh, that feels good. Thanks, Sandburg.” I notice he’s holding the bottom of the beer against his balls. Ouch!

“Okay, Jim. Not trying to get fresh here or anything, but this aloe vera needs to go on the sunburn. It’ll help ease the sting and the burn will heal much faster.”

Jim clenches his jaw and nods. “Just do it, Sandburg.”

I gingerly rub the aloe vera on the safe portions of Jim’s body—the hips and lower belly. That taken care of, I take a deep breath and pour a generous amount of aloe vera into my palm. I can do this. I can do this. I begin gently applying the gel to Jim’s balls.

He hisses but remains silent. Encouraged, I slather it on, making sure I’m covering every sun-reddened inch. That done, it’s time for Jim’s dick.

I pour more gel on my palm. Trying to lighten the mood, I hesitate, grin up at Jim, and pour out a huge amount. Jim is rather on the large size. “Think that’ll be enough, Big Guy?”

Jim grins and pantomimes a whap to the side of my head. We both laugh and relax. Still chuckling, I grab Jim’s dick and start smoothing the gel over it. The sunburn is pretty bad here but fortunately it’s only on the top side. Jim’s not going to have sunburned skin rubbing against sunburned skin as it heals.

I’m concentrating pretty hard on getting every inch covered in gel and it takes me a while to realize that Jim’s dick is growing. He’s half hard before I notice and snatch my hand away, staring up at Jim with startled eyes.

His face is brick red and he’s not looking at me. “Sorry,” he mutters.

I sit there shocked, and Jim’s dick continues to stretch on its own, until it’s pointing right at me. Jim grunts and I look back at him. There’s a grimace of pain on his face. “Hurts, Chief. Do something.”

Of course! The sunburned skin is getting stretched taut and the pain is probably pretty intense. Embarrassment forgotten, I wring a towel in cold water and lay it over Jim. Running into the kitchen, I fill a bag with ice cubes and bring it back.

Jim’s looking pretty miserable. His dick's impressively hard now and doesn’t look like it’s going away any time soon. “I can’t touch it,” he confesses shamefaced. “It hurts too much.”

“Let’s try this,” I say, placing the ice bag over his erection. Hopefully the chill will soothe the pain and shrink his hard-on as well. Jim is silent and when I look up at him, his face is blank. Shit, he’s zoning.

I throw the ice bag in the sink and start talking him back. Jim blinks, his eyes clearing and becoming intelligent again. “Too cold, Chief.”

I gnaw my lower lip, thinking. “Jim, do you trust me? You know I’d never do anything to cross the line or make you uncomfortable, right?:

“Yeah…” Jim’s looking vaguely distrustful right now.

“The swelling’s got to go down to stop hurting. Your dials aren’t handling the ice right now. The only other option is to go forward.”

“I already tried that. It hurt.”

“Trust me, man. And drink your beer. This’ll be much easier if you’re a little blitzed.” I move to the sink and let the cold water run. When it’s cold enough, I stop the drain and let the sink fill up. Opening the ice bag, I shake the ice cubes into the water and then turn off the tap.

I stand there soaking my hand in the icy water, watching Jim compulsively down his beer. Then he grabs the one at his crotch and starts on that one too. Good idea. I pick up the one from the beach for myself. It’s lukewarm but better than nothing. When even shaking it upside down won’t produce another drop, I realize there’s no putting this off any longer.

I dry my hand off and pour another dollop of gel on it. Turning to Jim, I take a deep breath and grab his dick.

“Oh…” Jim moans. I thought this would do it. The surface of my hand is cold now but underneath I’m still body temperature. No zoning here.

I start pumping his dick, gently at first and then, when there are no screams of pain, a little harder. I’m staring at my hand, carefully not looking at Jim. It’s odd to see my hand working a different dick than my own. It doesn’t feel that different in my hand, except for the fact that I’m not feeling my hand, if you know what I mean. With that thought, Blair junior wakes up and decides he’s jealous. Aw, man!

Jim’s breathing heavier and I’m hoping he’s too distracted to notice. I risk a quick look at him and then stare. Jim’s got his head leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, and a look of bliss on his face. I’ve never seen him like that. I feel like I’m invading his privacy and I can’t stop staring. My dick jerks into full hardness.

Shit! Jim’s nostrils flare and his eyes fly open, turning to stare into mine. I’m caught staring and can’t look away. His eyes are heavy and intent and lazy with pleasure. I’m feeling hot waves through my body, embarrassment or something else I don’t want to know about.

Still staring into my eyes, Jim narrows his and rolls his hips, thrusting his dick into my hand. Oh. The air’s getting hard to breathe in here. I tighten my hand and watch Jim’s dick pumping faster and faster into my fist. Over my head, I can hear Jim start to moan. My heart is beating in triple-time.

With horrified fascination, I watch as Jim’s balls draw up and his dick twitches hard in my hand, spurting white cream onto his stomach. Jim is panting up there and little tremors are shaking his body. I let go and stare at the come, Jim’s come, on my hand.

“Blair…”

No.

I stand up quickly and rinse my hand in the ice water. Silently, I hand him the towel to wipe himself off with. I let the water drain out, drop the used towels in the hamper, and grab the empty beer bottles. Jim sits there quietly and watches me. The endorphins have probably kicked in and he’s feeling no pain. Good. That’s good.

“You might want to put on some more aloe vera,” I tell him and head out to the kitchen to dump the bottles in the recycling.

Then I go into my room, shut the door, and jerk off. I’m definitely not thinking about what just happened. The feel and smell of Jim in my hand. The sound of his moans. The electricity running through my body. No, definitely not thinking about that.

After a nap, I get up and go out to the kitchen. Jim’s lying on the couch, watching me as I bustle around the kitchen, fixing dinner. Remembering Simon’s culinary skills at the beach, I decide potato salad and hot dogs would be perfect for a Fourth of July dinner. Later on we can watch the fireworks from the balcony.

I can feel Jim’s eyes on me the whole time. The air is heavy with unasked questions and I don’t have an answer for him.