The Lifeguard



It was the hottest day of summer and my friend Lee and I got up early and drove out to the beach. He was my best friend in high school and my only gay friend. We used to spend as much time as possible at the beach, watching the strong beautiful bodies of the young men as they swam through the green water and spread out on the white sand.

It was the hottest day of summer and Lee and I spread our towels out in our favorite spot, about ten yards from the lifeguard stand. Although there were usually a large number of hunky men around, the lifeguards were always my personal favorite. The beach was several miles long and had twenty-five lifeguard stations on it. Each summer several scores of our town's finest and strongest applied for the twenty-five openings, and after several days of running, swimming and life-saving trials, the best were hired.

It was the hottest day of summer. All the lifeguards took turns, working each of the different stations. This daily rotation meant that as long as we spread our towels out near the same stand, we got to feast our eyes upon a different hunky lifeguard each day. Some of them were guys we knew--seniors who were several grades ahead of us, guys who were on the football team of the gymnastics team, and of course a couple were on the swim team. This year, however, several guys had been hired who were from the local university. These were the guys that Lee and I especially admired.

It was the hottest day of summer and through the hot glare of the midday sun I was transfixed on the lifeguard of the day. He was propped up in his high chair, his legs up on the railing that surrounded the high platform where he sat. He was without a doubt the handsomest of the lot, and the most muscular. I had never seen him before and knew, from his size, that he was one of the college guys. He had dark hair worn in a severe crew cut. His eyes were hidden by bright mirrored sunglasses which rested on his classic roman nose. His large square jaw complemented his thin-lipped mouth with, of course, two rows of perfect white teeth. His massive chest was lightly covered with fine dark hair, as were his huge arms. He wore a pair of bright yellow Bermuda shorts that seemed ever brighter when contrasted to the deep dark brown of his powerful tan legs. He wore a pair of blue flip-flops on his incredible looking feet and flicked them back and forth against his soles in time to a song on the radio.

It was the hottest day of summer and I was mesmerized by those strong masculine feet. They were large and broad and I was struck by how much lighter the long soles were when compared to the darkly tanned tops. I was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming desire to touch them, to run my fingers along their length, to see what kind of reaction this huge powerful man would have if his soles were lightly tickled. He suddenly shifted in his chair and one of the sandals slipped off and fell the twenty foot distance to the sand below. The beautiful foot seemed to hang in mid-air, bare and vulnerable as it was. Without thinking, I jumped up.

"Wait, are you nuts?" Lee called out, but I didn't care.

It was the hottest day of summer and I was climbing up the ladder to where he sat, the fallen sandal in my hand. I was dizzy and lightheaded. The sandal seemed to burn in my hand. I was obsessed by the fact that his foot had rested in this thong and now I had it in my hand. As I climbed up the ladder, the bare foot stuck out above me, still bouncing to the music, as if it were trying to get away. As I reached the top rung of the ladder and began to pull myself up onto the platform, he brought his legs quickly down from the railing and began to get up.

"What do you want?" he asked me gruffly. I could see my reflection in his sunglasses as I reached out to hand him his thong.

"You dropped...I mean this fell," I muttered awkwardly.

He looked at me quietly, his head cocked to one side, before saying, "No one's allowed up here."

"I know," I said, "but you dropped..."

He suddenly stood up and grabbed the thong from my hand, shouting at me, "I said, nobody's allowed up here!" I went into some kind of daze. I couldn't move. He towered above me, yelling down at me as I balanced myself on the topmost rungs of the ladder. His feet were just inches from me, one still bare. I wanted to reach out and touch it so badly, that I just impulsively did it. I pretended to be losing my balance and reached out to keep myself from falling. I placed my hand on his foot and brushed my fingers gently across the tops of his toes. He responded quickly by jerking his foot away and then putting it down hard on the top of my head, pushing me off the ladder. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back on the hot sand beneath the ladder.

It was the hottest day of summer and my head was swimming. I couldn't tell if I was more stunned form the fall or the fact that I had actually been able to touch his foot. Lee was leaning over me and touching my shoulder. "Are you okay?" He looked up towards the top of the platform and holler, "you asshole!"

The lifeguard looked over the edge at the two of us and although we couldn't see his eyes through the mirrored sunglasses, we could feel his anger. "Get lost, faggots!" He disappeared from our view for a moment, and then his feet reappeared as he propped them again on the railing. They began to move slowly to the music once again.

As I slowly began to get up, I felt four more hands on my arms, helping me up. It was two lifeguards form the nearest stations on either side. I recognized them as two of the nicer guys on the varsity swim team at my school. "Are you okay, kid?" the one asked. They helped me back to my towel and then spoke to Lee for a moment.

"Don't mind that guy. He's trouble," the first guy said.

"Yeah," said the other. "He's made it really hard for a lot of us, too. Likes to give people a hard time, beat up on them, you know."

The one leaned down and looked at a bright red mark on my back.

"You'll be okay. I've had a lot of marks just like that one from him." He gestured toward the lifeguard sitting up on the platform. "He gets off on throwing people down on the sand, dragging them along, roughhousing, you know."

"Yeah," added the other. "There's a bunch of us that have taken a lot of crap from him. But today, at the end of ours shift, we're gonna get our turn. I know this won't stop your back from hurting, kid, but he's gonna get his." He got up and brushed the sand off his knees. "Now you take it easy and don't mess with that bully anymore, okay?"

I nodded my head and watched them head off back to their stations.

One of them yelled something up to the lifeguard that kicked me. "You're lucky you didn't hurt that kid, Chapman." Chapman didn't respond.

The hottest day of summer was drawing to a close. The sun was still bright and warm, but it was slowly dropping towards the horizon. Most of the swimmers had already left but there was still a group of kids playing in the water in front of us. Chapman had blown his whistle at them several times, telling them it was time to leave, but they hadn't heard him. From down on the beach I saw a large group of lifeguards coming towards us. They had been shutting down their stations one by one and now were gathering to watch the sunset. The one that had helped me earlier was walking in front and he carried an ice chest. As the group got close to Chapman's station, he called out, "Hey Chapman, come on down and get a brew." Chapman blew his whistle one more time and signaled to the kids in the water to leave. They heard him this time and grabbed their towels and began to leave.

The hottest day of summer was drawing to a close and Lee and I sat back and watched the sun moving towards the line between the sea and the sky. The beach was empty except for the lifeguards who were sitting in a half-circle, opening cans of beer, sharing stories of the day's events. We couldn't hear what they were saying exactly, but we could tell they were laughing and joking with each other. Suddenly there was a commotion and we saw Chapman get up and jump on someone. He stood up with this guy's legs between his arms and he began to drag him across the sand. The poor guy struggled to get away, but Chapman was definitely the biggest of the bunch and was obviously calling the shots. I watched as he pounced on another guy and pushed his face into the sand. As far away as Lee and I were, we could hear the guy saying "I give, I give!" Suddenly the whole circle of lifeguards seemed to move as one. They had all gotten up and closed into a much smaller circle. In the middle was Chapman and the guy he had pinned to the ground. Chapman didn't notice what was happening at first, but when someone put their hand on his leg he responded quickly. It wasn't quick enough, though. His fellow lifeguards had gotten him.

The hottest day of summer was finally cooling off. Bright red clouds were starting to ignite along the horizon and a soft warm breeze was coming in off the water. Chapman was bellowing like a bull. His fellow lifeguards were holding him by the arms and legs and dragging him back and forth along the beach. He was cursing them and fighting with all his strength, but there were too many to escape from. Several of them left the larger group and began to dig a hole in the sand. I wanted to get closer to see what was happening, but I was afraid that Lee and I would draw attention to ourselves and they would run us off. It was exciting just knowing that these guys were all ganging up on Chapman, even if we couldn't tell exactly what they were doing to him. The longer it went on, the more I wished I was one of them. I especially envied the two who held his legs and had those incredible feet at their mercy. I was getting hard just imagining what I would do to them if I had hold of those ankles. I longed to know if he was ticklish. My cock got harder just envisioning what his foot might do as it tried to escape my tickling fingers. I could almost imagine what his laughter would sound like as I listened to him yelling out for them to let him go. Someone suddenly yelled out, "Bring him over here! We're ready for him!" The guys who had been digging the hole were only visible from the waist up as they signaled to the other group who were pushing Chapman's face into the sand. They picked him up with a loud "heave-ho" and brought him over to the hole and placed him in it. He struggled anew, but several guys were on each arm and leg as the others began to push the sand back into the hole, burying him in the heavy wet sand. There was suddenly a moment of silence and as we watched, all the activity seemed to come to a standstill. The guys who had been on their hands and knees filling in the sand were now standing. The lifeguards were standing in a perfect circle and in the center was a small round ball. It was Chapman's head. I could hear him cursing again and calling out to several that he knew by name. The circle of lifeguards were just laughing now, laughing at his embarrassing situation, at his helplessness. Occasionally one would leave the circle and walk up to his face and kick sand into it. Someone ran down to the water and filled up an empty beer can and then came back and emptied it over his head. As the afternoon faded away, the lifeguards' laughter and Chapman's complaints got louder and louder.

The hottest day of summer was quickly coming to an end. The sun was barely suspended over the dark gray water. The lifeguards had grown weary of their sport and were leaving the beach one by one. As the last two left, Lee and I could hear Chapman yelling threats back at them. "Just wait 'til tomorrow, you assholes!" he screamed. We could see from the way he was slowly gaining more and more movement to his head and neck that he would be able to dig himself out pretty quickly.

I looked back up the beach to make sure all the lifeguards had left and then I jumped up. "Come on, Lee, let's have some fun." Lee lagged behind me, gathering our towels and tee-shirts, as I ran down to where Chapman was buried. He was a funny sight as I came up from behind and got a closer look at him. They had wet his hair and face thoroughly and sprinkled dry sand all over him. It stuck to his face like flour. They had found some cigarette butts and stuck one in each ear and up into his nose. His mouth was full of sand and he was spitting it out and cursing as I came into view. At first he thought I was one of the lifeguards and began to curse even more loudly. But when I said, "Hi! Remember me?" he grew very quiet. I walked down where his head was sticking out of the sand and plopped down. His face was directly in front of me as I reached out and began to wipe the sand away. He twisted his head back and forth as I removed the cigarettes. "What did those bullies do to you?" I asked slyly. His skin was soft to the touch as I gently rubbed my fingers across his cheeks and nose.

Again he twisted his head away from me. "What the fuck are you doing?" he yelled. He was trying to intimidate me with his loud voice and his intense, angry stare. It didn't phase me. In fact, it made me more excited. I ran both my hands through his hair and then around his ears. My hand touched something that had been stuck behind his ear and I pulled out a small gray seagull feather. I immediately improvised and drew the feather back and forth across his face while he got very angry. I could tell he was getting concerned about how helpless he was. Some of his neck was exposed and I took the feather and ran it along and under his chin. The response was automatic as he jerked his head away and inhaled deeply.

He suddenly began to rock his head and neck back and forth very intensely. I could see how easily he could make enough room to start freeing himself. I quickly filled in the space between his body and the sand with more sand.

He became furious. "Get outta here, kid! Mind your own business, or I'll..." He began to sputter as I played with the feather again, running it over his face and around his chin. I grabbed his head and held it fast and I stuck one end of the feather into his ear. He jerked again and I felt another shudder and a sharp inhalation as I turned the feather slowly around the edges of his earlobe. "Come on, stop it!" he said. I was becoming lightheaded again. I though I heard the beginning of a laugh.

The hottest day of summer was almost over. The sun was sinking into the ocean. The hottest evening in my fourteen years was just beginning. Lee was sitting, looking at me as I tickled Chapman's face with the feather. "Are you crazy? What do you think you're doing?!" he asked.

I felt powerful, very much in control. "I'm practicing the old law of 'an eye for an eye'" I responded. I ran the feather around his lobes again and felt him squirming.

I could tell that things were getting too intense for Lee's liking. He grabbed his things before running up the beach. "I'll see you tomorrow," he called back to me. "Be careful!"

The sun was almost gone. Chapman was struggling anew. I could tell from the look on his face that he was moving his arms and legs back and forth beneath the sand and trying to dig himself out. He was glaring at me silently, with a 'just you wait' expression on his face. He suddenly looked past me to a spot on the sand. His right foot hadn't been buried as deep as the rest of his body and he was beginning to move it towards the surface. I quickly crawled to where the sand was moving and dug down a little. In a few moments I had reached his toes where they wiggled in the sand. I dug a small hole around his foot until it was totally exposed. I brushed the sand off it with my fingers and watched his face change its expression. What had initially seemed to him like the beginning of an escape was now turning into something else. I reached for the feather that I had left on the sand near his head and then moved back down to his struggling foot. He was trying desperately to twist it in such a way that he could bury it in the sand again. I think he knew what was coming. I wanted to stretch this scene out and have the anticipation of what was really coming onto him, but I couldn't restrain myself. I took the feather and gently touched the innermost part of his arch. He jerked violently and was able to raise his foot enough that outline of his leg began to appear along the sand.

"We'll have none of that," I said. I swung around and sat on the sand above his leg, the squirming bare foot in front of me. I leaned forward and grasped the top of his foot with my left hand and took the feather in my right. I looked back at him. He was squirming madly, trying to rock his upper body free. "If you stop trying to get away, I'll be easier on you."

"Fuck you, faggot!" he yelled and from the anger in his voice I was very glad he couldn't get at me. I turned back to the foot, bent the toes back, and gently applied the feather to the large white arch before me. At first the feather seemed to work only as a little feather duster, cleaning the sand off the bottom of his foot. But as the sand disappeared and I turned the feather in small circles on the tender middle of his arch, he began to act differently. I could feel the leg beneath me surge anew in an attempt to escape. He pulled desperately with his toes, trying to lower his foot away from the tormenting feather.

The beach was beginning to succumb to the dusky shadows as the last reflection of the sun painted the clouds red on the horizon. Chapman was laughing his head off. He couldn't try and escape anymore because all his energy was being spent laughing and pleading with me to stop. "Oh god please..ha-ho-hee-ha-ho! Please stop...please...I can't breathe anymore...ho-ho-hee-hee-ha-ha-ho! Don'! I'm gonna faint...please ...uh-ha-uh-ha-uh-ha-uh-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" He went off on another uncontrollable spasm of laughter. I laid the feather down and began to run my fingers up and down the length of his foot. I was no longer necessary to hold the top of his foot; he was utterly spent from the agony of his laughter and all he could do was futilely try to twist his foot away from the delicious torment I was inflicting. My cock was hard as a rock and I felt like I was in an altered state. His squirming foot below me, his incredible laughter, and his pleas for mercy were like an aphrodisiac. All I wanted to do was tickle him more, and so I did. "Ha-ha-ho-ho-hee-hee-hee-ha-ha-ha-ha! Please stop! No more! No-no-ho-ho-ha-ha-hee-hee-hee!" I ignored his begging for mercy. I picked up the feather again and began to pull it back and forth between his toes. He reacted as if an electric shock had been applied. "I really can't breathe, please, please stop!"

I didn't really want to, but I gave the guy a break. After all, I had all night. And besides, my cock was so hard I was afraid I was gonna shoot my load and I wanted to sustain this whole scene for as long as possible. This was fantasy time for me and I wanted to make the most of it. I turned around and looked at him. His face was covered with sand and sweat and tears, as if he had been crying. And I suppose he had been. He was gasping for breath and spitting out some sand that he had sucked in. "Please kid, no more. Please. I mean it. I can't stand it, I really couldn't breathe for a minute....please stop."

I wanted him to beg me even more. "What do you want me to stop?" I asked coyly.

He was still catching his breath, still gasping lightly, but I could see that as he regained his composure, his ability to escape was returning. "All right kid, you had your fun. Now go on home and we'll forget this ever happened. You won. Now go on."

"I want you to ask nicely," I said. I was being a real brat and enjoying it immensely. "Tell me how ticklish your foot is, and that you want me to stop. It seemed he didn't want to say this because he just looked at me, some of that previous anger coming back. I held up my hands with all ten fingers stretched out and slowly began to turn around towards his helpless bare foot.

"All right, all right," he said. "Please...don't...tickle my foot any more." He said this sulkily, without much believability. I turned around, fell on his foot, and began to stroke his incredibly smooth and sensitive sole. He burst into laughter. "No, no, come on, you said if I asked you nicely hee-hee-hee-hee-ha-ha-ha-ha-ho-ho-uh-uh-ha-ha-uh-ha-ha..." and he was gone in tickling Hell again.

There was going to be enough of a moon this night that it didn't matter that the sun was gone and only a pale pink glow was left where it descended into the sea. I had Chapman perfectly trained now and he was saying exactly what I wanted to hear. After several false starts (wherein I simply tickled his foot until he got it right), he had finally gotten the appropriate tone in his voice and was using the right words. "Please don't tickle my foot anymore...I'm too ticklish to stand it...I'm afraid you might tickle me to death... please don't tickle me anymore.." Well, you get the idea. During one of these 'begging sessions' he suddenly came up with "I'll do anything you want if you'll just stop tickling my foot." I suddenly had an idea. I was not tired of tickling his foot, but I must admit that I was interested in seeing how ticklish the rest of his body was. It didn't seem possible to find out, though. The moment I would uncover any other part of his body, he would be able to escape. But I got an idea as how to use his wanting to escape for my own fiendish purpose.

I ran up to the lifeguard station and tipped over the long ladder that led up to the platform. Then I dragged it down to where Chapman was buried. In the several minutes that I was gone, he had been able to expose one shoulder and I could see some movement in the sand where his right arm was buried. I stood quietly behind him where he couldn't see me and let him continue to work his arm to the surface. I picked up my sneakers and began to undo the shoelaces and then tied them to the ladder. I laid the ladder on the sand in such a way that it ran lengthwise behind his head. When his right arm was close enough to the surface, I pounced on it. I reached down in the sand and pulled the arm out. I clasped it to me like some great thrashing fish and for a moment it seemed he was going to get free. He had an incredible burst of energy but I was able to wrestle the arm back and tie it to the ladder. He was no match for the weight of the ladder and he groaned audibly when he realized that his arm was now my captive.

Needless to say, it was not the arm specifically, but the huge furry armpit that had me so excited. I began by brushing the sand off his fingers, one at a time. He had been so thoroughly worked up by all the previous tickling that I think even touching his fingers had an effect on him. Of course, he was trying to pretend otherwise. But the clenched teeth and uneven breathing belied the indifference he was trying to project. As I brushed off his palm and then worked my way down his wrist and forearm, he began to squirm anew. By the time I had hit the inner elbow, I had retrieved the feather and he was beginning to giggle. The glorious armpit was now very close and I slowly moved towards it, the feather drawing little circles on his huge bicep. "Oh god, please," he cried out. "Don't tickle me anymore, please. Ple-e-e-hee-hee-hee-hee-uh-ha-uh-ha-ha-ha..." and he was off again, the delicate tip of the feather lightly caressing the area between his bicep and his armpit. I was so hot and hard myself I thought I was going to faint. A wonderful byproduct if tickling his arm was that I was close to his face and could see the hysterical state he was in. His laughter was deep and manly one moment and then very high-pitched and almost girlish the next. The bush of hair in his pit was dark and wet with all the work he had been doing trying to get away that the odor was not unpleasant. I stuck my hand into the center of this sensitivity and moved my fingers around gingerly. I cannot describe adequately the kinds of noises Chapman made the next few minutes as I thoroughly explored his extremely ticklish armpit. Suffice to say he screamed and cried out so loudly for mercy that I had to take my tee-shirt and stuff it into his mouth for fear that someone might hear him.

It was getting late. The moon had moved halfway across the sky since I had first noticed it. Chapman was a total wreck. The cumulative effect of the sustained tickling torture had made him extremely sensitive everywhere. Now, whenever I threatened an area or made any move whatsoever, he wailed for mercy. It was hard to believe that squirming body begging for relief was the same bully from earlier that day. I had found his sunglasses in the sand, and during one intense session on his foot I had put them on him. It was very hot to see his broad loud laughter, his squirming to get away, and myself reflected in the glasses delicately tickling the exposed foot. I had consistently been drawn back to the armpit and once, after prodding him ticklishly there for at least fifteen consecutive minutes, he complained loudly that he was peeing on himself. I told him that he was overreacting and tickled him for another fifteen minutes as punishment. He seemed to pass out after this second assault and I rested for a bit while he came to. I decided that I wanted the rest of his body to feel my fingers and that single gray feather and came up with a clever way to achieve this.

I gathered my things together, told him he was nothing but a ticklish jerk and a bully, and began walking off down the beach. He called me something nasty and I of course went immediately back and tickled his armpit unmercifully. I found the cigarette butts I had discarded earlier and whenever my tickling fingers found the right spot in his pit and his mouth was wide open in tormented laughter, I would flip one in. Needless to say, he didn't yell anything else when I told him I was definitely leaving this time. I told him he'd have to get himself out of this predicament and to be careful who he picked on in the future. He was silent as I walked out of sight and up the beach. I got just far enough to be out of his peripheral vision and then dropped down on the sand and watched what he would do next. He was exhausted but slowly came back to life. He kept straining his head around to see if I had really gone. At least half an hour passed and, convinced that I had left, he began to dig himself out of the hole. His left arm slowly came slowly to the surface and he used his hand to dig the sand out from around his chest and legs. The way his right arm was tied to the ladder didn't allow him to get up totally, but he was twisted around trying to untie the knot when I stepped back into the circle and jumped on him. It was exciting to have one of his arms free as he tried to fight me off. But it was no use. His legs kicked in the sand and he hit me in the head several times with his knees, but to no avail. Once again I was able to pin his arm back and tie it to the heavy wooden ladder. He was like the letter 'T' lying in the sand, although his legs were kicking and digging into the sand like crazy.

"I told you, I quit," he screamed. "I give up! You win!" He looked like he was beginning to cry. "What do you want from me?!"

Now the moon had gone down too, and the beach was dark. But not silent. Chapman laughed and laughed, begging for me to stop. I would kneel on his chest and pinch his tits and then run my fingers up his ribs and into the cavernous pits under his arms. He would kick and flail his legs, but it didn't help. Eventually I had been able to pin one of them down and then have my devilishly ticklish way with it. Once I was able to pin both of them down beneath me. I tickled the soles in the area beneath his toes that sent all ten of them wiggling to escape and him screaming loudly for mercy. As I stuck my tee-shirt in his mouth again and tickled his pits, he pissed himself. When I tickled him further as punishment for this reaction, he bucked wildly and his massive chest began to rub up against my hard cock. Several bucking motions and I had the most incredible orgasm of my life. I collapsed on his body and drifted off to a place I had never been before.

There was a faint hint of dawn in the sky when I awoke. Chapman breathed heavily beneath me, asleep. He was covered with sand and smelled of sweat and his own urine. I took his chin in my hand and shook it gently. His eyes opened.

"You tell anyone about this, or try to touch me, and I'll tell your buddies your secret weakness," I threatened. He nodded and looked away from me, ashamed of how he looked and smelled.

I got up and took a quick dip in the water before gathering my things and heading off for home. I hoped there would be other Chapmans for me to meet in the years ahead...