"Dude." Jaxon leaned in, voice dropping to a gravel rasp, that competitive edge sharpening until it could slice skin. "You just went viral. Like, right now. There's probably fifty videos uploading of you this second. You'd have woke up tomorrow with ten thousand DMs, most of them nudes."

He said it like a threat.

Dex clapped his hands together—CRACK—the sound cracking through the thick, salty air like a starter pistol.

"Which is why we capitalize! Party at my place! Free drinks, pool, hot tub, and—" He swept one tanned, Rolex-flashing arm across the swarm. "—all these lovely people who want to worship our new Beach King!"

The crowd roared—a single, animal sound that rolled across the sand and made the gulls scatter. Phones shot higher. Girls screamed my name like they were coming on it.

Melissa pressed harder, hand sliding from forearm to wrist, then locking fingers, nails dragging slow—just enough pressure to leave faint white lines that flushed crimson in their wake. "You're coming, right? Please say you're coming."

Her voice had dropped low, intimate, a secret whispered against my ear despite the hundreds around us. Her nipples were diamond-hard, poking through neon fabric, brushing my arm with every breath.

"I'll make it worth your while."

Her brunette friend—Amber—slid to my other side in one fluid motion, hip brushing mine, then pressing, grinding with every breath. The seam of her bikini bottom was soaked, slick heat seeping through onto my skin.

"We both will." She let her hand drift lower, palm flat on my lower abs, fingers curled just under the waistband, brushing the root of my cock. Teasing. Promising.

Of course you will, I thought, feeling their body heat sear through bikini fabric, smelling their arousal sharp and wet under coconut sunscreen and vanilla perfume—sweet, musky, dripping. Your cunts decided the second I stepped out of that tube. Your brains are still trying to catch up.

More women were gravitating now, pulled like planets into my orbit. The redhead—Sienna—had abandoned all pretense with Jaxon, eyes locked on me like lasers.

Two girls in matching neon-pink bikinis posed ten feet away, backs arched, tits thrust, phones angled for the perfect "candid" that wasn't candid at all—one of them slipped a finger under her top, tweaking a nipple for the camera, eyes on me.

A thirty-something cougar in a black one-piece leaned against a cooler, watching with a predator's smile, tongue tracing her lower lip like she was already tasting my cum.

The guys noticed. Some nodded bro-respect, fists bumping. Others went territorial, arms tightening around girlfriends who weren't looking at them anymore.

One dude—six feet, decent build, tribal tattoo curling over a sunburned shoulder—yanked his girlfriend back by the waist. She'd been drifting toward our circle, eyes glued to me, pupils blown wide, lips parted, tongue touching the corner of her mouth.

"Babe, come on. We were gonna go swim."

"In a minute," she murmured, still staring, thighs clenching visibly.

"Babe." His voice got harder, knuckles whitening on her hip. "Now."

She finally tore her eyes away, turned to him with a sigh. "God, relax. I was just looking."

"Yeah, that's the problem."

They moved off, but not before she glanced back—one last, starving look. Boyfriend saw it. Jaw clenched so hard I heard the pop of cartilage.

That relationship's on borrowed time, I noted. Give it a week. Maybe less. She'll be riding my cock by Friday, screaming my name while he jerks off to the memory.

"Weightlifting!" Colt suddenly bellowed, loud enough for the whole beach to hear. "We're not done yet! Surfing was round one. Now we lift."

The energy shifted—electric, dangerous, delicious.

Jaxon's grin turned feral, teeth flashing white in the dying sun. "Yeah. Let's see if the boy's all ocean and no muscle." His eyes dropped to my shorts again, lingering on the thick bulge, jealousy and challenge mixing.

Dex pointed down-beach, arm sweeping like a general. "Muscle Beach setup! Two hundred yards that way! Let's move!"

The migration began—not a walk, a flow. Three hundred bodies surged across the sand like a living tide, coolers clanking, speakers thumping, phones flashing like paparazzi lightning. The sun bled orange and pink across the sky, painting every curve, every bead of sweat, every hungry stare in firelight.

Melissa tugged my arm, nails digging crescents. "Walk with us?"

I looked at her—tits heaving with every breath, nipples thick against neon fabric, begging to be sucked. At Amber—ass rolling with every step, thong riding high, camel toe visible, wet. At the half-dozen other women now orbiting, waiting like wolves.

At Colt's crew watching with amusement, jealousy, challenge—Jaxon's eyes burning holes through me.

"Lead the way," I said.

Melissa's smile could've lit the darkening beach.

We moved.

Melissa claimed my right—hand wrapped around my bicep, fingers digging in, testing the hardness, nails scraping lightly, leaving red trails. Another took left—hip pressed flush, grinding with every step, wet heat bleeding through her bikini bottom onto my skin, slick, deliberate, her clit rubbing against my thigh through fabric.

The third inserted herself like a blade—between Melissa and a blonde trying to edge in. "I'm Sienna," she purred, hand on my shoulder, fingers tracing the ridge of my trap, lingering, thumb brushing the hollow of my collarbone, then sliding to my neck, pulse point, feeling my heartbeat thunder. "That wave was insane. Do you compete professionally?"

"Just for fun."

"You should," she breathed, thumb sliding lower, brushing my nipple through the salt-crusted skin, pinching lightly. "You'd destroy everyone."

They were competing—micro-aggressions, positioning, claiming territory. Melissa thought first contact gave her rank.

Aber used body contact—thigh sliding between mine with every third step, rubbing her soaked cunt against my leg. Sina went for conversation—trying to seem substantial, memorable, while her other hand slipped under my arm, fingers brushing the side of my abs.

And I was the prize they fought over without ever saying it out loud.

The petite Asian girl—five-two, tiny waist, ass fat enough to bounce—slipped through on my left like smoke.

"You have amazing form," she whispered, voice nearly lost in the crowd roar. "I surf too. Nowhere near your level, but… maybe you could give me some tips sometime?"

Her eyes—dark—said tips weren't about surfing. Her hand brushed my abs, fingertips tracing the deep V disappearing into my shorts, lingering just above the waistband, then dipping one finger under, brushing the root of my cock, feeling it twitch.

Behind us, male voices—sharp, angry, breaking.

"Dude, your girl's literally hanging on him."

"She's just being friendly."

"That's not friendly, bro. That's foreplay."

"Shut the fuck up."

Tension crackled like static before lightning. Women drawn to power. Men smelling threat, insecurity, rage.

The sun dropped, bleeding crimson across the water, turning every droplet of sweat into liquid ruby. Someone's speaker thumped bass you felt in your balls—slow, dirty, hypnotic. Grilled meat, beer, weed, pussy—scents layered thick, intoxicating.

Colt's crew walked parallel—watching. Shane studied the orbit of women like a scientist logging data. Ryder looked awed, mouth half-open.

Ky grinned like this was the best show on earth. Jaxon's jaw was granite, arms pumped from carrying his board, veins like ropes, already psyching himself for iron—eyes locked on me like he was visualizing the bar bending under my failure.

Colt just observed, eyes calculating—learning how real power moved, how it pulled, how it broke things without trying.

Halfway to Muscle Beach, Melissa leaned in—lips brushing my ear, breath scalding, tongue flicking the lobe for half a second.

"After the party," she whispered, "Aber and I have a hotel room. Ocean-view. King bed. Toys. Strap-ons. Plugs. Lube. Just saying."

Aber heard—squeezed my arm in agreement, nails digging deeper, drawing tiny beads of blood. "We'll do anything you want. Everything. We'll beg."

Too easy, I thought. But that was the point. They'd seen what I did in the water. Now they wanted to see what I'd do everywhere else.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, ARIA whispered, voice silk and sin: Enjoy it while it lasts. The real show hasn't even started yet.

I took a long pull from the beer, felt Melissa's nails bite bicep, felt Aber's hip grind harder, felt Sina's thumb trace my throat, felt the petite girl's fingers dip just under my waistband, brushing the head of my cock, feeling it throb, felt two hundred sets of eyes devour every inch of me.

The real show?

No.

It hadn't.

But I was ready.

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