Speaker 1: Before we dive into today's fantasy, I want to take
a moment, just the two of us to talk about
something that could well could change or experience of pleasure forever.
Have you ever found yourself closing your eyes during a story,
feeling the words wrap around you, pulling you into a
world where fantasies come to life? Oh? I know you do.
But what if you could experience all of that and
so much more on an entirely new level. Let me
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deserve this, feel everything, explore the world inside the app
and inside yourself sort of. Go ahead and download Sential
Awakenings App and follow the link in this episode's notes,
or come and see me at Wildinbed dot com. I'm
waiting for you. I'm waiting for you to take the
next step into your deepest desires. So let's begin, shall we. Hi,
It's Develin, and welcome to another salacious episode of Wild
in Bed. Now. I hope you're lying comfortably on your bed,
because you know that that's the best place for this
podcast to be enjoyed. Now, this week, I've got a
different little story for you, and you'll see at the end.
It's yeah, it's a surprise at the end, but you'll
have to listen to the story no point jumping to
the end of the podcast because it's not there. So
if you've not already, you can go ahead and close
your eyes, take a nice deep breath and just let
it out, let go of all the stress and tension
of the week. For the next forty minutes or so,
it's just you in my voice. This is your time,
your pleasure. The hot midday sun burned at Simon's body
as he not only smelled the brine of the water
but also tasted it. This was no gentle caress of
a morning sunrise, but a fierce, angry and tormented furnace
of a blazing noon sun in mid August. Even the
shadow of his newly acquired surfboard offered little protection, with
its shade falling across his naked torso and offering little solace.
Although Simon was desperate to avoid the glare of the sun,
he was avoiding going into the sea even more. He
had never been near a beach let alone in the
depths of the salty water, bone crushing waves, and the
never ending vast emptiness it became. But with Daddy's new
position and the grace and favor home just across from
the beach, Simon felt he had little choice. He knew
he had to get used to it. With all the
local kids his age spending most of their spare time there,
he refused to be seen as different, not again, not
after last time. This was the price he paid for
the luxurious lifestyle, the fancy homes, and enough money to
pretty much buy anything he wanted. He had to blend in.
He had to come across as average. With the crashing
waves seemingly quieting as they danced against the shore, rising
then falling their roar doles to becoming a gentle wash
sound with the waves lessening, Simon watched as a teenage
surfers deserted the sea and opted for the beachside bar
that was desired to look like a Caribbean hut, of course,
with the benefit of electricity. Seeing his opportunity to avoid
making a complete idiot of himself, Simon clicked the leg
rope to his ankle, grabbed his surfboard, and ran to
the water to put this demon to bed for once
and for all, even with the contrast between the heat
of the sun and the icy Atlantic water bringing a
shock of cold over his body that seemed to go
all the way through his bones and had him gasping harshly.
The chilled water nonetheless seemed clean, soft, and gentle in
some way. Simon carried his surfboard out until he was
wading waist deep in the water as it chillingly bittered
his thighs. Looking far down into the deep deep water
in the distance, he could see a group of surfers
only floating on the top of the calm surface. While
presumingly waiting for the waves to pick up again, Simon
made a pact with himself to have this eerie fear
of his conquered long before any large waves returned. While
staring at the floating board, it suddenly seemed a lot
smaller than it had when he'd carried it down the beach.
With the frigid water and the voice of cautions stirring
inside him, it was as if all his memories of
the endless YouTube videos he'd watched time and time again
had all been chased away in a raise from his mind.
He couldn't remember a damn thing about getting started with surfing.
His heart rate was quickening, his chest tightening, but somehow
he'd had to get up on this board. He'd made
a pact with himself. For the life of him, he
just couldn't remember how. Simon inowed a long intake of breath,
his heart beating in his ears as he levered himself
up on the board, only to promptly slip off the
back end. Thankfully, the water was still shallow enough for
him to regain his footing, leaving him only a little
wetter and a little more embarrassed. Again, he tried, this
time grabbing the edge of the board as he lay flat,
but it turned over unceremonious, dumping him into the water. Fuck.
How the hell do people surf on these things and
make it look as easy as one? Two three? He
cursed and cursed again, glaring at the board like it
was a devil himself. After a few more deep breaths,
Simon launched himself onto the board, this time reading with
defiant anger and backbiting frustration. The board wabbled a little
but settled on the calm water. Simon allowed himself to
release the breath held tightly in his chest, carefully, gently
hoping like how that the small sudden move wouldn't dump
him back into the sea. Slowly, his memory was returning.
The YouTube videos playing through his mind over and over again,
like a broken record. His hands moved from the safety
of the board and began paddling at the water, waiting
for that perfect wave to come his way and return
him to the safety of the dry, sandy beach, hopefully
in one piece, frozing with excitement and adrenaline coursing through
his veins. When he felt that swell beginning to carry
him forward, he relaxed ever so gently and let the
wave carry him back to the shadows. Simon knew this
was a good beginning, a good learning curve. He knew
he should return to the beach, but a sudden onself
madness had him doing just the opposite and dragging himself
right back into the sea, wanting to try more, wanting
to try everything. Just as the YouTube video stated, there
was a joy in riding the water, a feeling of serenity.
It was a rush like nothing he'd ever experienced. Ten
maybe fifteen times, Simon watched the swells, waiting for the
perfect one to come his way, repeating over and over
his newfound skill every time, gaining in confidence every time,
the adrenaline rush growing unlike anything addictive. It was no
longer enough. His spirit was soaring. He wanted to ride
the big one that everyone spoke of. Going back out
to sea, he mounted his board and paddled out even further,
waiting patiently for that next wave. This time he would
stand up on the board. He would conquer, He would succeed.
He would be triumphant and proud. As he returned to
the beach, replaying those endless YouTube videos in his head,
he knew just exactly what he needed to do. He
could see himself doing it, he could feel it in
his gut. All he needed was at one right wave.
Seconds or maybe minutes had passed when finally he felt it.
The rise under his board. The wave felt stronger, It
felt larger than the last few, its roar sounding, for
the life of him, like a roaring crowd yelling at
him and cheering him on. He sounded the waves seemed
to contain voices, voices that had adrenaline pumping ferociously through
his body. As he positioned himself, ready to take this wave, fully,
ready to stand, ready to conquer. The wave's motion surprisingly fast,
carrying him forward at a break neck pace, placing his
hands just so, lifting his chest and popping one leg forward.
Simon quickly stands on the board, keeping low at first
so as not to shatter his moment of triumph. He
focuses on the beach as a roar becomes almost deafening.
With his heart pounding excitedly against his chest. He never
sees the other surfer as he could rushes into him,
turning his board over, wrapping Simon's anchor rope. The surfer
bends it into or, glaring into Simon's eyes with ferocious
hatred burning in his sky blue ice. Stay out of
the fucking water until you can surf, boy, he growls,
then thrusts a diver's knife along his umbelicle cord to
the board, severing it. Simon clutches his board as it
drifts in the tide, willing it to take him anywhere
else but here, as he watches the surfers paddle back
into the sea and the afternoon sun. With the tide
moving ponderously slowly as it carries Simon toward the beach,
the minute seemed like ours. It feels like it's been
forever since he felt sand beneath his feet. Determined to
maintain at least a modicum of dignity, Simon holds his
board as he stands up, every movement of his body
under the control of his WheelPower. Refusing to allow himself
the luxury of shaking from the nervous energy cascading through him,
He proudly carries his surfboard back to the little furrow
he had made and stabs it with all the viciousness
he can manage into the sand. Collapsing to the ground,
he finally allows his nerves to get the better of
him as a ferocious tremble moves over his body. Simon
pulls his knees up to his chest. Fuck, but what
the fuck just happened? He curses. Simon was used to
a bodyguard. He'd never gotten into a situation such as this.
For the first time in a very long time, he
felt very alone and very scared. He was almost anxious
to get a new bodyguard appointed. As the waves began returning,
the drawer was irresistible to the s surfers at the bar,
and the sea was once again a wash with crowds
of tanned and owned surfers. The Caribbean Bar had emptied,
with no one left inside now but a few tenacious stragglers.
Simon decided it was time for a drink. He needed
something to calm his nerves, as he promised himself that
once his bodyguard was situated, he would return and show
that mad dog what happened to someone when the mess
with someone the likes of Simon to Lacey. Secluding himself
away in the corner of the bar, Simon did his
best to ensure no one noticed his existence. He barely
remembered drinking the first large rum and coke. However, he
did notice a sudden calming effect the alcohol had on
his nerves, which had him drinking the next one at
a much slower pace. He had a bodyguard to meet
this afternoon, being drunk was not an option. Out of nowhere,
the oppressive presence of a group of surfers appeared next
to him. The fragrance of the sea bit at Simon's nose,
bringing the memories to earlier flooding back, and then from
somewhere in the thick of the crowd, he heard it
that voice, aggressive, intense, domineering. The image of angry blue
eyes flashed through Simon's mind, boring into his soul, possessing
his desire. Lips full and powerful intensity, dripping from every
pore of his lean, bronzed body. As Simon's nerves trembled
in submission, he was increasingly aware of goose bumps exploding
over his body, and a warmth climbing up his spine.
A crawling tingle moved over his flashing down his stomach,
peezing between his sighs, and deep in his groin. This
strange new sensation was quite different to anything he had
felt before. Fighting his emotions and these strange and unwonted desires,
Simon discreetly made his way out of the bar. A
mean to stay as inconspicuous as possible, he moved across
the beach, heedless to the hot sand stinging his feet,
but more than aware of the incessant and growing twitching
in his cock that heking need, that he longed to suppress.
Not again, please not, hear not now, don't stand out.
All of these things must remain hidden, a dark secret.
With Daddy's words echoing ominously through his mind and doing
nothing to quell his growing, painful lust, Simon hunted down
the most private at the beach, how as he could find,
needing to rid himself with these thoughts, wash away this lust,
these desires, these needs that blowed through his body like
a hot fire. With the majority of people still in
the sea, the beach showers were thankfully deserted. Flicking the
water on, a cool stream of water cascaded down Simon's body. God,
he said, in nothing more than a silent whisper, closing
his eyes in an attempt to surrender to the smooth
feel of the cool, purifying water. With his eyes twisting shut,
all he could see with those eyes, those lips that
toned body. His eyes, his lips, his bodies, visions were
burning through him. Gripping at his stomach, thrusting firmly at
his groin, Simon grabbed his growing erection with a ferocious desire,
trying his damnedest to control this need, this urgency, this
desire for another man that he didn't want to feel again,
while resisting the torturous urge to reach inside his shorts
and relieve the ache and lustful thoughts through him. He wouldn't.
He couldn't. It was too public, It was too risky.
Even though the other two stores were empty, there was
still a risk that someone could walk inside at any moment.
This acony, this pain, this wild fire, of desire would
just have to wait. With acony emergency dragging through his body,
he pushed the kinal thoughts as far away from his
mind as he could imagine, opting to focus on what
to ask his new bodyguard as a way to mute
the screaming voice rampaging in his loins. You could get
yourself hurt out there if you do that again. More importantly,
you could seriously hurt someone else. Do yourself and everyone
else a favor, and learn to surf when no one
else is in the sea. That voice resonated through his body, low, forceful, domineering.
No matter how hard he tried, his desires were dragging
back to life, hard his cock into what was now
unaching and excruciating erection. It pushed hard against his shorts,
the soft material teasing at the very tip of him. Fuck,
he mumbled in an agetizing tone, easing his eyes back
open or vulnerable, exposed hard as iron underneath his shorts.
As he looked up, clear blue eyes held his gaze
for a moment, then slowly drifted over his lips and
down his body in hard cock Samon felt their intense
caress for every nerve in his body. As they lingered
on his swelling cock as it incessantly pushed at his shorts,
responding in submissive acceptance. The excitement got to you then,
the surfer was grinning, his eyes hotly blue. Something in
the movement of his lips held promises of wickedly cruel pleasure,
sadistic pain, and callous lust in perfect, beautiful equal measures.
Simon's backstabbing cock twitched with every word from the man's
thick pink lips. Fuck, those plump, pink lips. Those lips
are mine, those lips pulling the hot come from my cock.
As Simon dropped his head in coy embarrassment, painfully aware
of the rose flush moving over his body, his eyes
could do little more than focus on the impressive bulge
inside the surface shorts. It was long, thick, the head
of it just at the edge of his waistband. Simon's
cockaked painfully, agonizingly to be touched, to be kissed, to
be worshiped. As his gaze continued to linger his eyes
like a magnet that couldn't move the surfaces. Erection was
swelling even more, turning to still beneath those shorts that
Simon longed to slide down over his ankles so he
could fall to his knees. Taste worshiped, submit, shaking his mind,
the mist of lust clouding his judgment. He raised his
head to meet this man's gaze. Square on I Simon stuttered,
nerves and unwonted lust blurring his thoughts even more. Don't
say a word, Just drop to your knees and take
my hard cock between those pretty boy lips of yours.
The surface controlling, gaye, said Simon, dropping to his knees,
his body responding quickly, willingly, submissively. Water streamed down his
hair as he fumbled with the surface shorts, his hard
cocker rubting from behind the material and plopping against his
firm ripped abs with the weeping thick bob at the
end taunted Simon's lips as they slid over his silky
worn cock, his tongue teased and taunted. Sliding up and
down the firm, long length that tasted like mail mixed
with brine. Reaching between the surface thigh Samon grasped his
rising swollen balls in his hand, his fingers reaching to
find that special sensitive spot between his ass and balls
to massage it just the way he knew felt so
fucking good. His cock responded perfectly, swelling to stone, stretching
Simon's lips around its girth. Jesus fucking christ strong hands
were clutching at Simon's dirty blonde hair, pulling his face
onto his cock, his blue eyes glazed and dilated. Simon
suppressed a gag as the thrust deepened and became more urgent,
grasping the surfer's balls harder, massaging them, forcing his orgasm
to grow. Looking up over the ripples of his firm stomach,
his head tipped back, his eyes closing the surfer completely
under Simon's control. In this moment, tears were stinging at
Simon's cheek while the shower water ran down and over
his body, all intensifying the growing hot fire moving through
his body. While he held the upper hand on this stranger,
this angry strong man, was under Simon's control, every move
of his mouth, every stroke of his tongue, inspiring a
different reaction and taking closer to where he needed to go,
where Simon wanted him to go. Aching hotly, Simon's own
erection screened with its own painful need. He slid his
fingers around himself stroking firmly, slowly caressing up and down
every hard inch, then lingering at the leaky tip, gently
rubbing his thumb over that most sensitive spots and electric
shocks racing through his cock, and he slowly drew his
thumb down that short distance to the ridge where his
foreskin had once started massaging it or the surface cock
filled his mouth. He continued to massage himself firmly, urgently,
and suddenly he could no longer withhold the deep guttural
moan rising up his throat, which vibrated along the surfa's cock.
Deep throaty resonant. The surfer returned Simon's groan and began
thrusting urgently, pulsing deep and hard, his cock, convulsing his knees,
buckling slightly as his fingertips coiled through Simon's hair. As
the first drops of his pre comb teased along Simon's tongue.
Sliding his mouth from the beautifully hard, beautifully pulsing cock,
Simon watched it twitch in the afternoon sun for just
a moment, then looked up with his best seductive gaze.
Fuck me, he whispers, standing up and turning, dropping his shorts.
Simon grasps the shower pipe vestibility tentively. At first, the
surfer rubs his hands over Simon's ass cheeks. He then
parts them slowly carefully, an almost silent fuck falling from
his lips as he brushes the thumb over Simon's tight hole.
Simon moans in encouragement as the stranger's hand quickly finds
the perfect pressure, parting his cheeks, exposing that most private place.
Simon turns his head over his shoulder, use of old
wags for loub Fuck. This was happening. There was no
going back now, it was all happening again. Reaching into
the back pocket of his shorts, he retrieved the small
tube and pushed his fingers deeply into the wax. Simon's
feet almost left the ground, his ass trembling, his two
thick fingers pushed inside him, his cock throbbing and pleasure.
As the surfer probed a little deeper, scissoring his fingers
than finding his prostate with perfect ease, Simon gasped in
wicked pleasure, his cocked stone hard aching to come, his
need to fill his ass full of the surface cock
almost overwhelming. Fuck me, Simon cries in lustful desperation please.
The surfer, while still silent and not speaking a word,
reads his cock gently into Simon's ass, stretching the fiery
ring of muscle just in the right way to take
Simon closer to his needs. The initial pain, the anticipation
of that pain becoming provocative, beautiful, hot pleasure, the cock
inside him trembling viciously as he thrusts the second time, deeper, harder,
pushing against Simon's prostrate and taking him to the very
edge of symful bliss. The thrusts were growing harder, the
surfer growling in pleasure as he gripped Simon's hips with
his rough hands while pushing even harder, sending shudders through
Simon's body, christ to the surfer grass that Simon's ass
for stability is uncovered, bare cock exploding inside Simon and
pulsing threads of hot com with waves of place measure
resonating inside Simon. When the pulsing ended, he takes a
slow step forward and the softening cock slides out of him.
His own cockstilakes with need and the lust for satisfaction
suck me Simon commands, misery and growing need powering through
his voice needy and desperate. The urge to orgasm was
now overpowering any submissive tendency. The surfer drops to his knees,
taking Simon's weeping cock in his mouth, sliding his lips
up and down its length, and relaxing into a hurried,
post orgasmic place. Look at me, Simon whispers as his
sighs tense, feeling an orgasm moving up through his legs,
his muscles tensing with that wave of upcoming pleasure moving higher,
his balls lifting, tightening, throbbing as the wave of pleasure
moves through his cock like a raging tsunami. Looking down,
Simon holds the surfer's gaze and peers deeply into his
wide and dilated pupils. Ejaculate lifts up his erection as
co pulsing threads have come so heavy that small drops
seep from the corners of the stranger's lips. Simon's body
trembles as a surfer ceaselessly licks away the last drops
from his quivering cock. He releases him and begins moving
his tongue up and down the softening length, kissing his tip,
worshiping his balls. Their gazes glued together like cement, with
the sound of growing voices shattering the delusion. At the
moment as the crowds begin returning from the sea, the
waves were quietening again. Simon and the stranger both hurriedly
pull their shorts up, then share one last lingering kiss
as they gaze into each other's eyes for a moment longer,
and then it was over. Standing under the floor of
the shower, Simon's legs continue to tremble, his cock still
pulsing with the aftermath of pleasure, his whole aching to
be filled again, stretched, again, used again as he watches
the surfer vanish behind the Caribbean bar. Simon smiles smugly,
with a tinge of sadness also threatening him, turning the
shower off. He then remembers what he was meant to
be doing shit, suddenly aware of the time. He planned
to meet Daddy in his new bodyguard in an hour,
but for the first time, Simon really didn't feel like
he wanted a bodyguard around him, but he knew that
wasn't a reality, not with Daddy knowing his sexual needs
and desires, needs and desires his father found not only
embarrassing but unacceptable. Simon grabs his surfboard to make the
shit short trip back to the house, where he knew
his father would be rocking on his heels in his
impatient manner he always held. Whenever Simon wasn't prompt, which
was quite a lot of the time, he had to
figure something else, and he would. There was no way
on earth he could live without these moments. He was
a gay man and no longer would be ashamed of
who he was, no matter what that meant. Anger blazed
in his father's eyes. When Simon walked through the door
with a tumbler of scotch in his hand, he practically
dropped it onto the marble table in front of him.
You're late, Simon, get up stairs and change. The bodyguard
will be here shortly. Yes, Daddy, Simon replied obediently, the
word daddy suddenly uncomfortably sticking in his throat. His father
insisted on being called daddy, dad, or pops wasn't acceptable
in his world, nothing but daddy or father. When Simon
was younger, he decided it was some psychological trick to
try and keep him under his thumb, to make his
son perpetually feel like a needy little boy. Showering and
changing quickly, which for Simon meant at least an hour
of indecision over clothing, hairstyle, and any other damn reason
he could find to avoid doing just what lad he wanted.
He eventually descends a wide oak staircase through the paneled
door of his father's office. He could hear voices of
men talking. Damn. He was kind of open the bodyguard,
come chaperone, but decided he didn't want the job after all.
With his knock on the door echoing in the hallway,
he reached for the doorknobs slowly as his father responded
with come in. Simon entering the room, his lungs drained
of oxygen. His head became light and confused as he
stared into familiar ocean blue eyes. Oh fuck, he said,
without thinking, this is going horribly wrong. That the part
who You'll have to listen next week? So what happens next?
I hope you enjoyed it. I know it's always trying
something new, nothing wrong with a little variety. Don't you
think it's been a pleasure having you this week and
every week so until next time, and always with your
pleasure in mind? This is devil in world, saying sallacious dreams.
Speaker 2: Spat space and at a decate the aductate apt and
into at inducted