Looong walks on the beach

The morning sun poured over the beach, making the wet sand glow and the sea flash like polished glass. Kareem’s massive frame moved in an easy stride, muscle stacked on muscle, orange trunks clinging damply from a swim. Jamie walked beside him—lighter, sandy-haired, unbuttoned linen shirt fluttering in the breeze—fingers linked with Kareem’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Still getting looks,” Jamie said quietly, not embarrassed so much as amused.

Kareem glanced down, smiling. “They’re trying to work out how we ended up together.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Jamie said. “I stalked you at a fitness expo and bribed you with lighting gels.”

Kareem laughed—a deep, rolling sound. “You did insist my delts were being betrayed by bad overhead fluorescents.”

They’d met in a cramped London convention hall packed with supplements, posing trunks, and ring lights. Kareem was there for a sponsored appearance; Jamie, shooting portraits for an indie fitness mag. He asked for five minutes. Kareem gave him two. Jamie rearranged equipment, had Kareem relax, breathe, look past the camera. The photos were different—human, not just huge. Kareem asked to see more. Jamie suggested coffee to review the shots.

Coffee became a post-expo leg day. Leg day became “I know a Lebanese place you’ll like.” Over flatbread and hummus with too much garlic, Kareem talked about growing up in Beirut, training through power cuts, building strength first for rugby, then for bodybuilding, then because it felt like building a home inside his own skin. Jamie talked about light—how bodies change with it, how intimacy is just another kind of exposure.

On their third date, Jamie photographed Kareem in his flat—no oil, no stage tan, just window light sliding across thick, defined muscle and rain streaks cutting the gray sky. After a few shots, Kareem stepped forward, calm and deliberate, took the camera from Jamie’s hands, and set it aside. “I know you’re not just here for more photos,” he said, voice deep and sure. Jamie didn’t deny it. Kareem kissed him—firm, slow, then deeper, hungrier—as his big hands slid under Jamie’s shirt, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion. 

He guided Jamie onto the couch, his weight pressing down as straddled Jamie with ease. Jamie reached for Kareem’s jeans and slowly pulled down the zipper. As he did, Kareem’s cock flopped out, its enormous length and thickness landing heavily on Jamie’s chest, reaching all the way up his neck, resting beneath his chin. Kareem caught Jamie’s surprise and grinned. “I’m not small. I don’t always know my own strength.” Jamie’s throat bobbed as he tried to speak, the pressure of Kareem’s penis making it difficult. “Good,” he finally managed, voice rough and strained. “I like a challenge.”

Kareem worked in slow, steady strokes, the head of his cock thick and already leaking as he pressed into Jamie’s tight heat. Jamie held his breath, gripping his shoulders, moaning as the stretch grew deeper,fuller—until Kareem finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt with a long, trembling groan. He froze there for a second, head tipping back, his voice breaking. “Fuck… No one’s ever taken all of me before.” His hands clenched around Jamie’s hips, fingers trembling. Jamie was shaking, flushed, jaw slack—but he didn’t pull back. “Then don’t stop,” he pleaded. Kareem looked down at him, eyes wide and awed, then started to move—slow, powerful thrusts that made Jamie gasp with each roll of his hips. Jamie didn’t just take it—he pulled Kareem in deeper, with touches, gasps, the arch of his body. And when Kareem finally collapsed on top of him, breathless and overwhelmed, he buried his face into Jamie’s neck and whispered, “You feel like the most fragile thing in the world… and somehow you’re the only one who can handle me.”

Now, on the beach, that memory hovered like heat off the sand.

Jamie tugged Kareem toward a shallow dip between dune grasses, out of the main line of sight. The roar of the waves gave them a cocoon of sound.

He slid both hands up Kareem’s torso—mapping his abs, sternum, throat. Jamie brushed his lips to Kareem’s—just a tease—then pulled back, eyes bright. “Say it.”

Kareem’s chest rose, then fell. A slow smile tugged at his lips. “I’m yours,” he said.

Jamie’s hand slid lower, cupping Kareem through the thin stretch of orange fabric—a confident squeeze that drew a startled yelp from the bigger man.

Kareem laughed, breathless. “Seriously? I thought we were having a moment.”

“We are,” Jamie smiled, and kissed him.

It started slow—lazy, tasting. But hunger crept in quickly. Sand clung to their damp calves. The tide reached closer, inch by inch.

Kareem dropped to his knees, his palms gliding up Jamie’s thighs. Jamie steadied him with a hand tangled in his hair. When Jamie shifted, Kareem followed, instinctive, fluid—his strength tuned to the lightest touch.

The ocean crashed loudly.