We were sitting there, both cross-legged, naked, on the bed in my condo, where I didn’t live any longer, after another mind-blowing fucksession. My lover/partner of fifty-five days (I didn’t know the number of days at that point, but I knew it was both new and also that it was amazingly wonderful) Jim, my hunky, hairy, muscular, dark, sexy, smart, loving, exciting, widowed-father-of-a-teenage-college-student-son, attorney, slut-for-my-cock, perfect-for-me man in my life had just asked me to marry him. I was blown away.
I’m a mid-forties retired marine colonel – newly retired, not even a year – whose last “relationship” was twenty years before during a posting to the American embassy in Paris. I’d met Jim short of two months before, we’d had wild sex that day and every day since, and somewhere in there I’d moved into his vast beach house, about twenty minutes’ farther drive from my office, but oh so much more accessible to the man I’d become aDICKted to. I’d even struck up an amazing friendship with his nineteen year old son, Perry, who was like a younger, somewhat less large yet still built version of Jim. And now I guess my envelope was being pushed farther with a proposal.
To say I was surprised would be tantamount to saying the Enola Gay was a bomber – so much more, so much more spectacular, so much more unexpected, so much more unprecedented.
I was speechless. I was often speechless, but this was worse. I had twenty-five things swirling around in my head. My mental image of my thoughts was like one of those animated diagrams of an atom, but there was a buzz around it like a beehive of electrons and protons, and in my head they were all colliding. I wondered if this was what ADD people felt like without the meds.
FOCUS, CATE!
I looked at Jim, aware that it was my turn to speak and incapable of doing so. As I’d come to expect, he gazed at me with a combination of hunger, love and understanding that humbled me. It didn’t hurt that his body – as I said, we were naked after an energetic fuck – was stellar and more so given the glistening sweat and sticky cum on the dark fur on his tanned abs.
I needed to answer him. I needed words, dammit!
Finally, a reflex overtook me, and I leaned across, embraced him and kissed him. It was a soft, soulful kiss, unlike our usual hungry wanton face-sucking, and Jim matched me tongue-to-tongue, embracing me tighter and moaning in his deep baritone, as was I.
I forgot the question, forgot the loss for words, forgot everything but our bodies together as mine re-heated. My lips, tongue and teeth became bolder, hungrier, and again Jim matched me, now both of us growling together. I roughly grabbed the back of his head and forced us together too-tightly but it only enflamed us more, as always. I inhaled our sweat and sex, and my body went into overdrive. Again, as always.
I reached down with my other hand and grabbed Jim’s big cock roughly. As I knew I’d find it hard, it was like a lead pipe. I began stroking him, and his moans became louder and more plaintiff, his body heating up even more as I could tell when his lips and tongue scorched mine.
I stroked him faster, harder, and he reached for me, still embracing me tightly with his other arm. Ahhhhh . . . his touch was magic, but I could win this one. Kissing Jim and stroking him was almost sure to get him off in record time – I’d done it before. I loved kissing him, and I loved the feel of any part of his body. But I particularly loved a few parts more, like his rock hard throbbing uncut cock in my hand, responding to our prolonged face-sucking with ample precum. I’d done this before a couple of times. I knew what I was doing. I loved the control.
He struggled a few times to get us into a different position, but I held his head tight against my lips, massaging his short-haired scalp and neck when he wasn’t struggling, clamping my big-pawed grip when necessary. He knew as well as I did that I could get him off with my hand on his cock and my lips on his faster than any other way. It was the way he was wired, and I had the schematic to all the plans of his body, not just this one. Yes I loved the control of my lover’s pleasure(s).
Once, the second time I did this with him, I edged him for so long that both our lips were swollen and chapped far too noticeably afterward, and he confessed afterward that it was the hardest, most intense climax he’d ever had in his life. He’d had more spectacularly explosive ones – all with me he told me; he was good at keeping his top’s ego in tact! – but that was bordering on excruciating as it finally ripped him up inside to get outside, as he put it.
He knew I was serious this time, too, and he knew I’d make him cum long before he did me. So finally he let go of my cock and instead grabbed my big nuts, which he loved to play with and knew I loved him playing with them, and held me tighter with his other arm and kissed me even more hungrily and brutally.
It was about then that I felt his big meatpole in my hand get even harder – I always wondered at our male physiology, how a lead-pipe-hard cock could get even harder, but his like mine and so many others did when he was closer – and his big head got enormous as my hand raked his foreskin over it, and I knew we were moments away. I did what always caused him to scream when I made him cum this way. I took my other hand and grabbed the base of his long thick cock and pulled back his foreskin all the way and went back to stroking his precum-slick head with my hand directly. And I was rewarded with the shaking of his body that wracked him with spasms, the loud almost blood-curdling guttural deep scream and felt his cock pumping and his load splatting all over the front of me as I pumped out his nuts.
During his climax, he never let go of my sac, almost ripping my nuts off me and clenching so hard anyone but a marine colonel would have cried out for mercy. Instead, as he pumped his seed all over me – he was a nice hard blaster like me – I output about a pint of precum all over his arm. I swiped it off his arm and slathered it on my fuckpole. Then I swiped his cum off my own abs and legs and slathered it too on my cock. Last, with one easy move – didn’t know I was that graceful – I was on my knees in front of him and had pushed his head down onto my gooey cock until his nose was in my pubes. “Aaarrrrrrgggghhhh mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” came out of him, and his grip on my nuts remained determined to show me what he wanted.
“Fuck YES! SERVICE that COCK!” I ordered. And he did.
Another understatement would be to say that my Jim was an accomplished cocksucker. He had learned to handle my well-oversized cock both in his formerly too-tight butt and also in his very talented but under-stretched mouth. And he worked it like a champ. The combination of his two handed grip, one clamped on and working my big nuts and the other on the base of my shaft stroking as he sucked up and down sent me into orbit.
“Oh, FUCK!” I exclaimed as I steadied my balance on the bed holding his head as he bobbed up and down the long length of me. The feel of my head penetrating his throat and his mouth and hands on me was like being in an electrical storm where every lightning bolt started in my nuts and threatened to blast out my cock at any moment but instead just went through me to my toes, fingertips and scalp. Until finally I felt it building in my big bull nuts.
Jim knew what it felt like when I got close, too, and he managed a “FUCK YEAH STUD GIVE IT TO ME!” around my big monster gagging him. And about that time I did, clamping my hands on his head HARD and shoving him down into my pubes again as I felt my nuts blast for the second time into this amazing stud who was mine.
“MMMMmmmmmmm uumphhhhhhhgggggggghhhhhhhhh mmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he gulped and choked and gagged as I pumped out into him.
When I finally let him off my cock and he was gulping and gasping for breath and wiping spit and cum off his face with the back of his hand, he started to laugh. “What’s so funny?” I panted.
He had that devilishly irresistible grin that made his beautiful light brown eyes dance. “Well, I was wondering if that was a yes,” he said.
SHIT, I’d forgotten the question. But I was still too buzzed from an amazing orgasm to get all anxious. “I honestly don’t know what to say to that Jim,” I said with surprising candor.
This time it was he who took his sweaty hands and took my face in his hands and brought our lips together. Just as they brushed he said, “Say you love me, Bill. Say you’ll marry me.” And then he kissed me like I’d kissed him before. But this time we just kissed – long and soft and deep.
My head was spinning. I had no idea if two men could even get married. But I knew I loved this man, I knew he had given me a life in a few short weeks that I’d never imagined. I knew I’d do anything for him, with him or because of him. “Yes,” I mumbled against his lips.
Our kiss broke, and our two sweaty, stinking bodies came together fully there on our knees on my rarely-used bed. OK, we actually used it often as a getaway where we didn’t have to think about Perry in another part of the house. Not that we were fooling him at all, but still.
Then I wondered, apparently out loud because I heard my words against Jim’s neck. “How?”
Jim didn’t miss a beat. “Leave that to me.”
I held him tight and realized I didn’t have any clue what it would be like to be “married” – much less to a man. “I really do love you, Jimmy,” I whispered, almost shyly. “But it’s so new. Are you sure, really sure?”
“I know it’s new, Bill, and I really do love you and our life,” he said into my neck. “I am certain – absolutely – that the past fifty-five days have defined my life – wait, OUR lives. And by the way: promise me you’ll call me ‘Jimmy’ forever – I love it.”
I hadn’t even realized it . . . but I liked it, too. I liked all of it. And in the important sections of my brain I felt the same way about my life being redefined in the past – now I knew how many – fifty-five days. “Speaking of calling, what I want more than anything is to call Perry and see if he’s ok with it,” I told Jim. I don’t know why, with all the other issues, questions, emotions about this leap off a high ledge it was Perry I most wanted to make sure was OK with his dad “marrying” again and marrying me in particular, but it was.
“Are you kidding me? He’s crazy about you, Bill. He’s going to be thrilled,” Jim said confidently. But then he added, “But why don’t we tell him in person when we get home instead of calling?”
That sounded right to me. It also sounded like I wanted to get there and talk to him quick to make sure he really was going to be all right with it. My mind started racing again, offering up the possible negative reactions he’d have, how utterly devastating that would be to me . . .
“What?” Jim said, looking at me seriously.
I must have shown it in my face. “Uh, nothing,” I mumbled.
“Bill, talk to me.”
“Really, Jimmy, it’s nothing,” I said, careful to use ‘Jimmy’ and hopefully distract him.
“Nice try, handsome, but as hot as it makes me inside to hear you call me ‘Jimmy’, I still want to know what’s wrong.”
OK, here goes. “This is all new for me, Jim. I—“
“What did you say,” he interrupted. My mind raced for a minute but came up with it. I laughed and so did he. “There, you’re smiling again. Funny how ‘Jimmy’ did not distract me but it did you. Bill, I want to always have you be happy, to make you happy. You know that, right?”
I got a lump in my throat. As always I was humbled by this man’s love. “Jimmy . . . my Jimmy,” I said, looking deep into the eyes I hoped would be the very last sight I had when many many years from now I left this life.
His smile was at once full of love and also full of sunshine and life. “That’s me,” he mugged.
Yes, it was. “Perry is so awesome to share you with me, Jim,” I blurted out. “I don’t want to do anything to upset him or make him feel like he has less of you.”
“Are you freaking kidding me, Bill? He is ecstatic that you’re with us. He talks to everyone about you. He is more attached to you at this point than he is to me. “
“Well, I,” I stammered.
“Well, nothing,” Jim said, shaking me a little. “Get a clue, my soon-to-be husband, because if you’re not prepared to share a twenty-year-old son, you’d better bail now. He’ll be calling you ‘dad’ before long, and I’ll be the hired help!”
I laughed at that . . . nervously. My stomach was full of butterflies. And every one of those butterflies said that Jim had just outted me on the essence of something I’d never verbalized. I really did want to share Perry, and I couldn’t think of a higher honor, none of my medals, commendations and citations would compare to having him think of me as a second dad.
[The psychology majors or practitioners among you have already nailed this one. Pre-teen loses his dad. Pre-teen gets stepfather who’s nothing short of wonderful and he idolizes. Stepfather dies, too. Now decades later we can regain that by reversing our roles, with me as the idolized stepfather. (Sorta.)]
“Perry will never think of me the way he thinks of you,” I said, slowly. When Jim started to say something I put up my hand. “And I am thrilled that he likes me as much as he does, and I really like him, too, not just because him liking me makes it easy and good for you. But let’s just see how this goes – he may go sideways – this might be a game changer, a little too close.”
Jim just smiled. “Bill, let’s get showered up and go home so you can see how deep a hole you’re jumping into, NEW DAD!”
* * * * * * * * * *
We did that – showered – but we got a little side-tracked or front-tracked or back-tracked as it were when Jim got me hard AGAIN soaping up my cock and balls and then backed up to me for another round. To my credit and to his, we both got off a third time that evening. Two middle aged studs we were. LOOK MA NO VIAGRA! OK wait, not Ma – ewwww.
Perry bounded into the great room overlooking the beach with his usual exuberance as we made our way in, and we went into the kitchen as he got there. “Hi, guys, have fun?” he asked, snarkily, knowing exactly what we’d been doing as he always did.
But there was something almost practiced about it tonight, something not as reflexive as he usually was. I was processing that as Jim said, “Yeah, yeah, son. Someday we’ll give you the details, and then you’ll be sorry!” Perry started to protest – I’m not certain which part – and then Jim said, “We want to talk with you about something.”
I was having a feeling of déjà vu, the way Jim said “talking WITH” not “talking to”. It was the way my stepdad talked to his own two sons and to me. It was more loving and equal, and it had always made me feel better than when parents said it the other way. And as that flashed through my head, I was processing Perry almost yelling saying, “Did you say yes?” to me.
My “What the –“ was cut off.
“Perry!” Jim shouted.
“Ooops,” Perry said, and he started to back away.
“OK, loose lips, stay where you are!” Jim ordered. “Sorry, Bill, but as you can now tell I’d already told Perry that I wanted to marry you. And I already knew his feelings on the subject. I should have told you earlier.”
“OK, guy-on-guy therapy later, OK you two?” Perry jumped in. “Did you accept, Colonel?” he asked me again, insistently.
Jim looked at me pleadingly, but honestly I was grateful he had talked it over with Perry before he asked me. Anything they needed to work out, though, apparently had been agreed. “Perry, I wouldn’t say yes until we talked to you. I wanted to make sure you’re OK with it. I GUESS, I was a little behind on the plays, though!” I gave Jim a glare without much behind it just on principle, and then I turned back to Perry. “I will say ‘yes’, though, if it’s really OK with you,” I told him.
Perry’s usually bright ebullient mien went cosmic, and he literally jumped at me and hugged me tight. “Are you kidding me, Colonel? FUCK YEAH, I’m OK with it!” he shouted and hugged me again.
“PERRY!” his father shouted. For a man who could be absolutely filthy with words when sex was involved, he staunchly refused to tolerate them from Perry – or from me for that matter, which was a new trick to an old dawg!
“Dad, lighten up, man,” Perry said, still hugging me. Before Jim could object Perry continued. “It’s not every day I get another totally awesome dad!” That shut both of us up, and I hugged him back tightly, and Jim joined in, too.
When we finally broke the hug, I was starting to think again, my mind, as always, running a bit fast with scenarios. I was thrilled with Perry’s reaction. I was frighteningly thrilled to hear him refer to me as a ‘dad’. That was equally disconcerting as it was thrilling, and my mind threw any number of negative but vague, indiscernible visions into my head.
Fortunately reality broke that one before it got me too worked up to enjoy the moment. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Perry said dramatically. We broke the three-way hug, and Jim and I looked at him. “Well, I was thinking this would be a great time for a nice big family dinner to celebrate,” he said, grinning.
“Let me guess,” I said, beating Jim to it. “You’re hungry again.” I knew he’d eaten before I picked him up for tennis after work. I, on the other hand, had eaten an energy bar. Jim had said he’d had a leftover sandwich at the office from a luncheon before he came to the club.
“Yeah, I didn’t get much dinner tonight. And I’m sure my two dads worked up a huge appetite after you left me,” he said, with that endearingly snarky tone he used with us on this subject.
“Son!“ Jim started.
But I jumped in. “Jimmy, when the man’s right, he’s right!” I said quickly. Perry beamed. And so did Jim. This ‘Jimmy’ thing really works, I thought. “Now we just have to find a nice restaurant that’s serving this late.”
If only all things in our future lives were going to be that easy.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Friday, August 31, 2012
The Marine Gets THE QUESTION
“YEAH!” my partner Jim’s nineteen-year-old son yelled and pumped his fist in the air after he caught me off my feet with a perfect shot to the baseline just out of reach of my desperately outstretched racket.
“Good shot,” I called to Perry across the net. “Forty fifteen,” I called, reminding him he’d been a shot away from losing that game and the set and the match before that last-gasp shot.
“Come on, Colonel,” he yelled, using his favorite nickname for, which I’d given up on disabusing him of. “Show me what ya got!”
Perry was a superb athlete and less than half my age, but he knew exactly what I had. I hesitated for a moment, deciding if I wanted to kill him with a power serve which from my Ad side or give him a bit more of a workout.
When I was a kid I’d been a great tennis player when I was in school. If I hadn’t been from a middle class family instead of a rich one, I would have been a pro by then. But I wasn’t – my family hadn’t had the money for the tennis coaching in private schools that give time for that when I was a kid.
I had no regrets whatsoever about not having become a professional athlete. I’d never know if I’d have achieved a class of play that would take me to a high earnings career. What I did know is that from the first day I entered the United States Naval Academy as a United States Marine Corps cadet, I had known that was the career I wanted. And my twenty-six plus years in the Corps had yielded a career I was both proud of and which had given me great personal satisfaction.
I hadn’t had much time for tennis in those years – occasional social games, just enough to hint at my natural talents but not enough to get my game back. Since meeting my partner Jim over Labor Day weekend, I’d had almost two months of weeknights and weekends at his country club to indulge my game. Perry, Jim’s home-for-the-summer-from-college son, was, as I mentioned, a natural athlete, and he began to eat up the games we had to up his own game. I could still whip his butt, but by the time he went back to college, I was certain that would be an iffy proposition at best the way his game was improving.
It also didn’t hurt that he was tall, dark, muscular, hairy and gorgeous like his father, so in tennis whites with his furry arms and legs glistening with sweat he was an appealing and, therefore, popular figure around the club and the courts. His ebullient personality was irresistible, too. And with our age difference, the weeknights that Jim was working later – as he was wont to do – that we went to the club after my work, people who didn’t know Jim or Perry often mistook us for father and son.
At first that mistake of Perry and me being son and father not only embarrassed me in general because this whole “family” thing – hell the relationship thing too! – was new to me, but also because it embarrassed me thinking it would embarrass or otherwise make Perry uncomfortable. Of course it didn’t make him uncomfortable; he handled it easily, flexibly, like everything, fluidly eating it up and often putting his arm around me and saying I was his ‘other dad’. I was, at the same time, unnerved by that each and every time – humbled by Perry’s acceptance and affability – as well as being very moved by it – deeply grateful on his father’s behalf for his acceptance of me.
I made my decision and pitched the ball into the air and gave my serve about eighty-five percent. Perry had to lunge, but he barely got his racket on it and kept enough of the control I’d taught him to make a decent return. We had a good, challenging, long volley after that, but ultimate I nearly knocked him off his feet with a low powerful shot just over the net with enough topspin that when it hit the court where his feet had been only a split second before he jumped out of the way, the ball rocketed beyond the reach of Perry’s great young lightning-fast reflexes. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “That was an awesome shot!”
“It was also game, set and match, my young tennis star,” I called. “Seven-six, six-four, six-two.”
“I’m getting better,” as we met at the net for a handshake and bro-hug, “Aren’t I, Bill?” he asked, puffing a bit and soaked with sweat.
I have him another jostle. “You’re getting great, Perry,” I said, honestly. He’d gotten so good so fast that I had no doubt he’d be a great player if he kept playing challenging opponent. His game was getting great, as the first set tie break attested. We still had to work on his conditioning. Despite his great physical shape and natural athleticism, he hadn’t yet become adapted to the prolonged demand of frequent long matches. Our score today was an example, with the first set being decided by a decently long tie-break, but then the second set I broke him once and in the third twice, resulting in the straight set win for me and the diminishing games to him as we went from set to set. We were getting there, though. Maybe I was subconsciously hoping he would have an opportunity to do what I hadn’t done, even though I knew at his age his chances of an option to become a pro were low.
I was suddenly a little self-conscious that our hug had gone on longer than it should have and disengaged abruptly. There was absolutely nothing sexual between Perry and me, and a few of my friends who’d met both Jim and Perry had offended me with some salacious speculations! Perry was so comfortable, though, in showing male-male affection as a result of his awesome relationship with and raising by his father, and he showed me affection openly, too.
My discomfort was simply the long-ingrained holdover of my quarter-century where male-male affection was not only open but encouraged in the most extreme sense of camaraderie. And as a gay man that was a dangerous edge to skirt on my side . . . except of course for the (many) others like me over the years when circumstances allowed us to indulge together in pushing over that platonic line to the many searing extremes of high-octane testosterone-fueled sexcapades.
As we walked along the net to the side of the court with our arms loosely across each other’s shoulders, we both turned toward a familiar voice. “Hey, my two favorite men!”
Jim was heading into the court from the gate at the back corner of my side. As usual he took my breath away. In his (very expensive) tan suit, his muscular body was showcased but only by the shape of his perfect tailoring which evidenced his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His long legs gave even more texture to that hunky landscape, and as he neared that sculpture-perfect smiling face of his evoked a grin of my own.
“Dad!” Perry called.
When we caught up we were three guys eager to see each other. Perry and I were sweaty messes after a few hours in the heat. But Jim didn’t hold back and embraced us both. As he did he turned enough to kiss my neck and whispered in my ear, “Yum.”
As I flushed hearing that and feeling a concurrent squeeze of my ass, Perry yelped, “Kid present!” as he pulled away.
Jim and I laughed, and I gave his bowling ball buttcheek a more meaningful squeeze as we started walking toward the clubhouse.
Jim and I passed on the clubhouse showers and headed out on our own. Actually Perry was the one who said, “I know you guys would rather have some dad-on-dad time.” We’d both looked agape at the directness of his statement. He followed it quickly with a slightly sheepish look. “Geez, I actually said that, didn’t I?” Since I’d picked up Perry and we’d driven to the club together, Jim tossed Perry the key to his car, and off we’d gone.
My townhouse – the one I hadn’t slept in for almost two months since the first weekend Jim and I had met – was close to the club, and had the advantage of not having Perry heading there. We didn’t talk about it – we both knew that’s where we were going. I didn’t have my truck started before Jim’s hand was opening my tennis shorts and pulling my cock out. “Need this!” he said, caressing me. As always, heat shot through me from his touch, and I was hard almost instantly.
“We should get there safely or there’s not much point,” I said priggishly as we rolled through the parking lot.
“Oh, we’ll get there, all right!” Jim said with a leer in his voice.
“Safely!” I said, laughing, “Which, if you don’t lay off, might be in question.”
We got to my condo, and he did NOT lay off. He also didn’t work my cock so aggressively that I was more than high on the sensations and heady enough to make it tough duty driving safely. He was licking the sweat off my neck in the elevator and pulling my shirt off as I groped his ass and crotch through the fine fabric of his hand-tailored suit. We kissed roughly and ground out bodies together without a care that the elevator has security cameras and the doors could open on a lower floor at any time.
The short distance from the elevator to my door was quickly crossed, and I was ripping the fine tie from his collar and ripping open his dress shirt open as he was casting his suit jacket cross the room and tearing at my shorts. At this point I wasn’t even certain I’d gotten my junk back inside my shorts or zipped up before we’d gotten out of the car.
I got his pants open as he kicked off his shoes, and he had an amazing move which had his pants flying across the room. I had my sweaty jock strap on, though my raging horsecock and bull balls were hanging out, the pouch to the side. Jim’s bone was raging in his boxer briefs, and admittedly I was groping at it and loving the way his precum was making a huge spot in them. About the time I was processing that thought through my endorphin dulled brain, Jim was on his knees and had my huge cockhead bumping the back of my throat. “AAAaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I exclaimed.
In response to my growl, Jim grabbed my nuts rough and tight like he knows makes me even hotter. I clamped one hand on Jim’s head and shoved my cock roughly into his throat. “Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrggghhh!” he cried, muffled by my cock, and the sensation of his vocal chords buzzing on my throbbing fuckrod sent another bold of electricity through me. I reached out and grabbed for anything to steady my shaky knees as I began skull fucking Jim without any control whatsoever.
GODDAMN this man made me lose all control! And he was just as aggressive as he sucked me HARD and worked my balls like he’d grown to know made me blast off. I was skyrocketing along the runway to blastoff with a huge payload. I realized suddenly that as much as I wanted to unload in my lover, what I wanted was for it to be with my cock over nine inches up his ass, mated with him. I grasped at his head and tried to shove him off my cock, but his grasp on my nuts and ass was stronger. I finally got hold of his short hair and yanked his head back and then pulled him to my feet.
“SHIT!” he cried. In response I grabbed him by the balls and pulled him and we stumble-ran to my bedroom. I flung him face-down hard on my bed, and I dove into his hole face first. “OH FUCK YES eat my fucking hole then fuck my brains out, Bill!”
I intended to do exactly that. I shoved my tongue inside his deliciously manly hole and sucked in the taste of him. He’d taken a shower before he left work I could tell, as he often did because he knew I’d jump him upon sight after work, but he did it early enough in the afternoon to come to me musky enough to further inflame my desire for him. I ate and chewed that hole while he moaned and growled and clawed at the sheets and begged for me to fuck him.
I fumbled in the nightstand drawer and got the lube and got some in his hole and without further prep just mounted him and drove home balls-deep inside him. His back arched and he cried out in a long guttural growl-cry that the neighbors might be getting used to rattling the walls and windows. My own expression of the ecstasy of penetrating him, the hot tightness of him, before the crescendo of ecstasy which I knew would come, was, “OH FUCKING CHRIST DAMN baby that’s good!”
I proved it by pounding him soundly. I held his hips and drove into that hot fuckhole of his as hard and as deep as I could with every thrust. Just the way WE liked it. He yelped and moaned, and I kept at him. “God I love your cock-hungry cunt!” I shouted as he clenched even harder around me. As a reward I changed my angle and began nailing his prostate with my head directly with every thrust instead of lightly brushing it. His response was, as always, loud and aggressive, shoving back up onto me, meeting my thrusts.
“Fucking GIVE IT TO ME!” he demanded. And I did. I knew how to work his ass in every way, whether I wanted him to cum while we were fucking or not, whether I wanted him to milk me or let me just enjoy the heat and tightness of him, whether I wanted him desperate for my load or lovingly catering to my needy cock. I knew just how to get him to make demands just like he was doing. And as I increased the force of my thrusts to his prostate, his demands escalated. “Give me that Goddamn load. SEED ME you fucker!”
“Take it, you cock-whore. You know you’re built for taking cock.”
“You fucking know it!” he shouted back, shoving back even harder onto me and clenching my cock with his incredible ass muscles.
I drilled him the way I knew drove him over the edge, and he rewarded me with the shouts and intense body and particularly ass spasms that preceded his nutblasts. The spasms around my cock always took whatever control was left in me away, and this time was no exception. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I yelled as my nuts boiled over in as intense an explosion as the most intense he’d given me, and I felt my seed began to blast through my cock as we both came together and shouted and spasmed and writhed, all the while my hips shoved my cock balls deep grinding my pubes into his crack.
I collapsed on his sweat-slicked back at some point, and my nose was in the sweaty nape of his neck when I became conscious enough to realize. Both our bodies were heaving as we gasped for our breath. Our sex and exertion as I inhaled us caused my nuts to feel like they would explode again. “Jesus.”
“No, I’m Jim,” he said between gasps for air. And we both laughed. The jiggle of his rock-hard butt on my nuts again caused that jolt of electricity. Hell, most everything with Jim did!
I kissed his neck and inhaled deeply. “God I love the way you smell almost as much as I love you.”
“Mmmmmmm,” he responded, nuzzling his head back against mine.
“That was amazingly good, babe,” he purred as his breathing was more normal now. I agreed with a purr of my own. “Bill, we’re great together, aren’t we?”
I reflexively felt my insides tighten. I wasn’t good at this, and I needed to get it right. I didn’t know how to do this relationship thing. I knew how to fuck the man I’d fallen in love with. I knew how to enjoy every minute with him. I knew how to revel in every minute I or we spent with his son. But I didn’t know how to express any of it the right way, I was sure of it. Every word was agony in its conception in my head. “Great,” I came up with.
“I want to ask you something, Bill,” he said, his head against the bed still, me still draped on top of him and inside him, my cum no doubt oozing out of him around me and his puddled under him. My insides clenched tighter. “Relax, my big strong marine,” he said, knowing what I was feeling. “I think I know the answer, but I think we should talk about this, too, which is why I’m going to ask you what I ask you.”
My insides were now not only tight but struggling to get free enough to twist up and turn over. I could face enemies with bombs and rifles and knives more willingly than these conversations. Jim knew it and had been artful in the few and gentle conversations we’d had about US. Shit, my whole life had become US, but just thinking US now terrified me.
And at that moment, as I realized that the fleeting thought was what was truth – my whole life IS us, and that’s what frightens me most, the fear of loss. Something inside me kicked in then. My entire adult life I’d been trained to serve and fight for what I believed in, what I cherished most – my country – and now that I wasn’t called on to do that this was what I cherished. I was suddenly acting.
I eased off and out of him, rolled him over until we were facing each other. I kissed him softly. “What do you want to ask?” I said, eagerly.
Jim was surprised by my eagerness. We were so new, had known each other less than two months, but he KNEW me. And he was pleased but confused, I could tell. “Getting braver, aren’t you, my colonel?” he said lightly.
I laughed. “I’ve always been brave, and you know it. Remember that time on the beach for anyone to catch us?”
“Yeah, you’re brave about everything – either when you’re in uniform or when your cock is hard. But this brave front to ‘a talk’,” he said, making quote marks in the air with his fingers, “is new.”
“Don’t scare me out of it,” I said, smiling. “So what is it?”
“Well, OK then.” His gaze became suddenly very serious, and I had to fight a wave inside me. It’s OK, I reminded myself – this is US. Then he sat up and pulled me up facing him, both of us cross-legged on the bed. “This isn’t exactly the way I had planned this, but before, when we were together, joined, I realized I needed to ask you this.”
My mind raced. We’d already made a mutually irresponsible decision to abandon condoms way too early in our relationship. We’d already agreed to live together and to at some point in the future rent my condo out. In fact he wanted his firm to lease it and to use it for visitors as soon as we could get around to clearing out the rest of my personal things. I’d met his parents. I lived with his son. It was a question, not a declaration, he’d said, and he was precise about those things in his communication I’d learned. It was the lawyer training. So what . . .
“Your mind is racing, my brave colonel, isn’t it?” he asked.
Before he answered he took my hand and put it on his chest, and I felt his heartbeat racing. I knew it wasn’t still from our sex. And as fast as my mind had been racing, my heart was racing just as fast now with anxiety over what was coming.
I took his other hand with mine and put it on my chest without saying anything, but Jim knew what it meant. Now I was showing him I was right there with him, right in whatever with him, that it was US in it, whatever it was. Then he blew me away.
“Bill Cate, United States Marine Corps retired, love of my life and center of my world, I want to marry you.”
“Good shot,” I called to Perry across the net. “Forty fifteen,” I called, reminding him he’d been a shot away from losing that game and the set and the match before that last-gasp shot.
“Come on, Colonel,” he yelled, using his favorite nickname for, which I’d given up on disabusing him of. “Show me what ya got!”
Perry was a superb athlete and less than half my age, but he knew exactly what I had. I hesitated for a moment, deciding if I wanted to kill him with a power serve which from my Ad side or give him a bit more of a workout.
When I was a kid I’d been a great tennis player when I was in school. If I hadn’t been from a middle class family instead of a rich one, I would have been a pro by then. But I wasn’t – my family hadn’t had the money for the tennis coaching in private schools that give time for that when I was a kid.
I had no regrets whatsoever about not having become a professional athlete. I’d never know if I’d have achieved a class of play that would take me to a high earnings career. What I did know is that from the first day I entered the United States Naval Academy as a United States Marine Corps cadet, I had known that was the career I wanted. And my twenty-six plus years in the Corps had yielded a career I was both proud of and which had given me great personal satisfaction.
I hadn’t had much time for tennis in those years – occasional social games, just enough to hint at my natural talents but not enough to get my game back. Since meeting my partner Jim over Labor Day weekend, I’d had almost two months of weeknights and weekends at his country club to indulge my game. Perry, Jim’s home-for-the-summer-from-college son, was, as I mentioned, a natural athlete, and he began to eat up the games we had to up his own game. I could still whip his butt, but by the time he went back to college, I was certain that would be an iffy proposition at best the way his game was improving.
It also didn’t hurt that he was tall, dark, muscular, hairy and gorgeous like his father, so in tennis whites with his furry arms and legs glistening with sweat he was an appealing and, therefore, popular figure around the club and the courts. His ebullient personality was irresistible, too. And with our age difference, the weeknights that Jim was working later – as he was wont to do – that we went to the club after my work, people who didn’t know Jim or Perry often mistook us for father and son.
At first that mistake of Perry and me being son and father not only embarrassed me in general because this whole “family” thing – hell the relationship thing too! – was new to me, but also because it embarrassed me thinking it would embarrass or otherwise make Perry uncomfortable. Of course it didn’t make him uncomfortable; he handled it easily, flexibly, like everything, fluidly eating it up and often putting his arm around me and saying I was his ‘other dad’. I was, at the same time, unnerved by that each and every time – humbled by Perry’s acceptance and affability – as well as being very moved by it – deeply grateful on his father’s behalf for his acceptance of me.
I made my decision and pitched the ball into the air and gave my serve about eighty-five percent. Perry had to lunge, but he barely got his racket on it and kept enough of the control I’d taught him to make a decent return. We had a good, challenging, long volley after that, but ultimate I nearly knocked him off his feet with a low powerful shot just over the net with enough topspin that when it hit the court where his feet had been only a split second before he jumped out of the way, the ball rocketed beyond the reach of Perry’s great young lightning-fast reflexes. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “That was an awesome shot!”
“It was also game, set and match, my young tennis star,” I called. “Seven-six, six-four, six-two.”
“I’m getting better,” as we met at the net for a handshake and bro-hug, “Aren’t I, Bill?” he asked, puffing a bit and soaked with sweat.
I have him another jostle. “You’re getting great, Perry,” I said, honestly. He’d gotten so good so fast that I had no doubt he’d be a great player if he kept playing challenging opponent. His game was getting great, as the first set tie break attested. We still had to work on his conditioning. Despite his great physical shape and natural athleticism, he hadn’t yet become adapted to the prolonged demand of frequent long matches. Our score today was an example, with the first set being decided by a decently long tie-break, but then the second set I broke him once and in the third twice, resulting in the straight set win for me and the diminishing games to him as we went from set to set. We were getting there, though. Maybe I was subconsciously hoping he would have an opportunity to do what I hadn’t done, even though I knew at his age his chances of an option to become a pro were low.
I was suddenly a little self-conscious that our hug had gone on longer than it should have and disengaged abruptly. There was absolutely nothing sexual between Perry and me, and a few of my friends who’d met both Jim and Perry had offended me with some salacious speculations! Perry was so comfortable, though, in showing male-male affection as a result of his awesome relationship with and raising by his father, and he showed me affection openly, too.
My discomfort was simply the long-ingrained holdover of my quarter-century where male-male affection was not only open but encouraged in the most extreme sense of camaraderie. And as a gay man that was a dangerous edge to skirt on my side . . . except of course for the (many) others like me over the years when circumstances allowed us to indulge together in pushing over that platonic line to the many searing extremes of high-octane testosterone-fueled sexcapades.
As we walked along the net to the side of the court with our arms loosely across each other’s shoulders, we both turned toward a familiar voice. “Hey, my two favorite men!”
Jim was heading into the court from the gate at the back corner of my side. As usual he took my breath away. In his (very expensive) tan suit, his muscular body was showcased but only by the shape of his perfect tailoring which evidenced his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His long legs gave even more texture to that hunky landscape, and as he neared that sculpture-perfect smiling face of his evoked a grin of my own.
“Dad!” Perry called.
When we caught up we were three guys eager to see each other. Perry and I were sweaty messes after a few hours in the heat. But Jim didn’t hold back and embraced us both. As he did he turned enough to kiss my neck and whispered in my ear, “Yum.”
As I flushed hearing that and feeling a concurrent squeeze of my ass, Perry yelped, “Kid present!” as he pulled away.
Jim and I laughed, and I gave his bowling ball buttcheek a more meaningful squeeze as we started walking toward the clubhouse.
Jim and I passed on the clubhouse showers and headed out on our own. Actually Perry was the one who said, “I know you guys would rather have some dad-on-dad time.” We’d both looked agape at the directness of his statement. He followed it quickly with a slightly sheepish look. “Geez, I actually said that, didn’t I?” Since I’d picked up Perry and we’d driven to the club together, Jim tossed Perry the key to his car, and off we’d gone.
My townhouse – the one I hadn’t slept in for almost two months since the first weekend Jim and I had met – was close to the club, and had the advantage of not having Perry heading there. We didn’t talk about it – we both knew that’s where we were going. I didn’t have my truck started before Jim’s hand was opening my tennis shorts and pulling my cock out. “Need this!” he said, caressing me. As always, heat shot through me from his touch, and I was hard almost instantly.
“We should get there safely or there’s not much point,” I said priggishly as we rolled through the parking lot.
“Oh, we’ll get there, all right!” Jim said with a leer in his voice.
“Safely!” I said, laughing, “Which, if you don’t lay off, might be in question.”
We got to my condo, and he did NOT lay off. He also didn’t work my cock so aggressively that I was more than high on the sensations and heady enough to make it tough duty driving safely. He was licking the sweat off my neck in the elevator and pulling my shirt off as I groped his ass and crotch through the fine fabric of his hand-tailored suit. We kissed roughly and ground out bodies together without a care that the elevator has security cameras and the doors could open on a lower floor at any time.
The short distance from the elevator to my door was quickly crossed, and I was ripping the fine tie from his collar and ripping open his dress shirt open as he was casting his suit jacket cross the room and tearing at my shorts. At this point I wasn’t even certain I’d gotten my junk back inside my shorts or zipped up before we’d gotten out of the car.
I got his pants open as he kicked off his shoes, and he had an amazing move which had his pants flying across the room. I had my sweaty jock strap on, though my raging horsecock and bull balls were hanging out, the pouch to the side. Jim’s bone was raging in his boxer briefs, and admittedly I was groping at it and loving the way his precum was making a huge spot in them. About the time I was processing that thought through my endorphin dulled brain, Jim was on his knees and had my huge cockhead bumping the back of my throat. “AAAaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I exclaimed.
In response to my growl, Jim grabbed my nuts rough and tight like he knows makes me even hotter. I clamped one hand on Jim’s head and shoved my cock roughly into his throat. “Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrggghhh!” he cried, muffled by my cock, and the sensation of his vocal chords buzzing on my throbbing fuckrod sent another bold of electricity through me. I reached out and grabbed for anything to steady my shaky knees as I began skull fucking Jim without any control whatsoever.
GODDAMN this man made me lose all control! And he was just as aggressive as he sucked me HARD and worked my balls like he’d grown to know made me blast off. I was skyrocketing along the runway to blastoff with a huge payload. I realized suddenly that as much as I wanted to unload in my lover, what I wanted was for it to be with my cock over nine inches up his ass, mated with him. I grasped at his head and tried to shove him off my cock, but his grasp on my nuts and ass was stronger. I finally got hold of his short hair and yanked his head back and then pulled him to my feet.
“SHIT!” he cried. In response I grabbed him by the balls and pulled him and we stumble-ran to my bedroom. I flung him face-down hard on my bed, and I dove into his hole face first. “OH FUCK YES eat my fucking hole then fuck my brains out, Bill!”
I intended to do exactly that. I shoved my tongue inside his deliciously manly hole and sucked in the taste of him. He’d taken a shower before he left work I could tell, as he often did because he knew I’d jump him upon sight after work, but he did it early enough in the afternoon to come to me musky enough to further inflame my desire for him. I ate and chewed that hole while he moaned and growled and clawed at the sheets and begged for me to fuck him.
I fumbled in the nightstand drawer and got the lube and got some in his hole and without further prep just mounted him and drove home balls-deep inside him. His back arched and he cried out in a long guttural growl-cry that the neighbors might be getting used to rattling the walls and windows. My own expression of the ecstasy of penetrating him, the hot tightness of him, before the crescendo of ecstasy which I knew would come, was, “OH FUCKING CHRIST DAMN baby that’s good!”
I proved it by pounding him soundly. I held his hips and drove into that hot fuckhole of his as hard and as deep as I could with every thrust. Just the way WE liked it. He yelped and moaned, and I kept at him. “God I love your cock-hungry cunt!” I shouted as he clenched even harder around me. As a reward I changed my angle and began nailing his prostate with my head directly with every thrust instead of lightly brushing it. His response was, as always, loud and aggressive, shoving back up onto me, meeting my thrusts.
“Fucking GIVE IT TO ME!” he demanded. And I did. I knew how to work his ass in every way, whether I wanted him to cum while we were fucking or not, whether I wanted him to milk me or let me just enjoy the heat and tightness of him, whether I wanted him desperate for my load or lovingly catering to my needy cock. I knew just how to get him to make demands just like he was doing. And as I increased the force of my thrusts to his prostate, his demands escalated. “Give me that Goddamn load. SEED ME you fucker!”
“Take it, you cock-whore. You know you’re built for taking cock.”
“You fucking know it!” he shouted back, shoving back even harder onto me and clenching my cock with his incredible ass muscles.
I drilled him the way I knew drove him over the edge, and he rewarded me with the shouts and intense body and particularly ass spasms that preceded his nutblasts. The spasms around my cock always took whatever control was left in me away, and this time was no exception. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I yelled as my nuts boiled over in as intense an explosion as the most intense he’d given me, and I felt my seed began to blast through my cock as we both came together and shouted and spasmed and writhed, all the while my hips shoved my cock balls deep grinding my pubes into his crack.
I collapsed on his sweat-slicked back at some point, and my nose was in the sweaty nape of his neck when I became conscious enough to realize. Both our bodies were heaving as we gasped for our breath. Our sex and exertion as I inhaled us caused my nuts to feel like they would explode again. “Jesus.”
“No, I’m Jim,” he said between gasps for air. And we both laughed. The jiggle of his rock-hard butt on my nuts again caused that jolt of electricity. Hell, most everything with Jim did!
I kissed his neck and inhaled deeply. “God I love the way you smell almost as much as I love you.”
“Mmmmmmm,” he responded, nuzzling his head back against mine.
“That was amazingly good, babe,” he purred as his breathing was more normal now. I agreed with a purr of my own. “Bill, we’re great together, aren’t we?”
I reflexively felt my insides tighten. I wasn’t good at this, and I needed to get it right. I didn’t know how to do this relationship thing. I knew how to fuck the man I’d fallen in love with. I knew how to enjoy every minute with him. I knew how to revel in every minute I or we spent with his son. But I didn’t know how to express any of it the right way, I was sure of it. Every word was agony in its conception in my head. “Great,” I came up with.
“I want to ask you something, Bill,” he said, his head against the bed still, me still draped on top of him and inside him, my cum no doubt oozing out of him around me and his puddled under him. My insides clenched tighter. “Relax, my big strong marine,” he said, knowing what I was feeling. “I think I know the answer, but I think we should talk about this, too, which is why I’m going to ask you what I ask you.”
My insides were now not only tight but struggling to get free enough to twist up and turn over. I could face enemies with bombs and rifles and knives more willingly than these conversations. Jim knew it and had been artful in the few and gentle conversations we’d had about US. Shit, my whole life had become US, but just thinking US now terrified me.
And at that moment, as I realized that the fleeting thought was what was truth – my whole life IS us, and that’s what frightens me most, the fear of loss. Something inside me kicked in then. My entire adult life I’d been trained to serve and fight for what I believed in, what I cherished most – my country – and now that I wasn’t called on to do that this was what I cherished. I was suddenly acting.
I eased off and out of him, rolled him over until we were facing each other. I kissed him softly. “What do you want to ask?” I said, eagerly.
Jim was surprised by my eagerness. We were so new, had known each other less than two months, but he KNEW me. And he was pleased but confused, I could tell. “Getting braver, aren’t you, my colonel?” he said lightly.
I laughed. “I’ve always been brave, and you know it. Remember that time on the beach for anyone to catch us?”
“Yeah, you’re brave about everything – either when you’re in uniform or when your cock is hard. But this brave front to ‘a talk’,” he said, making quote marks in the air with his fingers, “is new.”
“Don’t scare me out of it,” I said, smiling. “So what is it?”
“Well, OK then.” His gaze became suddenly very serious, and I had to fight a wave inside me. It’s OK, I reminded myself – this is US. Then he sat up and pulled me up facing him, both of us cross-legged on the bed. “This isn’t exactly the way I had planned this, but before, when we were together, joined, I realized I needed to ask you this.”
My mind raced. We’d already made a mutually irresponsible decision to abandon condoms way too early in our relationship. We’d already agreed to live together and to at some point in the future rent my condo out. In fact he wanted his firm to lease it and to use it for visitors as soon as we could get around to clearing out the rest of my personal things. I’d met his parents. I lived with his son. It was a question, not a declaration, he’d said, and he was precise about those things in his communication I’d learned. It was the lawyer training. So what . . .
“Your mind is racing, my brave colonel, isn’t it?” he asked.
Before he answered he took my hand and put it on his chest, and I felt his heartbeat racing. I knew it wasn’t still from our sex. And as fast as my mind had been racing, my heart was racing just as fast now with anxiety over what was coming.
I took his other hand with mine and put it on my chest without saying anything, but Jim knew what it meant. Now I was showing him I was right there with him, right in whatever with him, that it was US in it, whatever it was. Then he blew me away.
“Bill Cate, United States Marine Corps retired, love of my life and center of my world, I want to marry you.”
Thursday, August 30, 2012
The Young Marine Takes To The Courts
I was a captain stationed at the American Embassy in Paris when I was twenty-five. I had been assigned to the Ambassador’s personal staff, and he and his wife had taken a liking to me right off. They were going to be attending Wimbledon that year as a guest of one of the Queen’s cousins, the Duke of Kent, with whom the ambassador had served on a UN peace-keeping mission in Cyprus.
The ambassador and his wife surprised me when we got to London and I checked us into our lavish accommodations in the Grosvenor House hotel on Park Lane by giving my tickets to all the seven days’ matches while we would be there. I was thrilled and a little awed, even though they’d told me that my seat wouldn’t be in the private box where they would be seated with the Duke. Hell I didn’t care. I’d played tennis in high school and then at the academy and was pretty good, and I now played tennis casually when I could. I liked the sport enough to follow it some as far as the major titles, too, so Wimbledon was a big deal overall.
The first match we saw was one of the quarter-finals for women. By the end of the women’s quarters I was thrilled to watch matches with Steffi Graf, Martina Navratilova, Gabriela Sabatini and Monica Seles all winning to move to the semi-finals. And the men’s quarters that week were as exciting, with Agassi, McEnroe, Sampras and Ivanisevic all advancing to the semis. I fell in love with Agassi watching him scrap it out with Becker, and I jacked off that night thinking about licking his hairy body all over. And somewhere in my edging and stroking, Becker had joined us, and I vividly enjoyed sucking his fat uncut German sausage too!
During the men’s semi-finals, it was Ivanisovec and Sampras who accompanied my enthusiastic spank-fest that night. Something about Agassi trouncing McEnroe in their match seemed too easy for the pretty-boy, but the slugfest between Sampras and Ivanisevic had me pigging out on those two hunks not just one load that night but two. Fortunately the housekeeping staff at the Grosvenor House was on top of things and changed the soiled sheets out daily. They must have thought I was having more fun than my left hand was actually giving me!
The day of the women’s finals was a long day. The ambassador and his wife were watching all the matches that day with the Duke and his family. I had the use of the ambassador’s driver if I wanted to leave early, and after Steffi Graf beat the tar out of Monica Seles, like she had Gabriela Sabatini to get to the finals – at least Martina made Monica work for every point in their semi-final match! – I was walking around the courts, glancing at some of the lesser matches, doubles, boys and girls.
It was as I was finally walking to the office to call the ambassador’s driver that I heard my name being called. It had been a while since I’d been called by anything but my last name, certainly since I entered the Academy, and it didn’t register until I felt a hand on my shoulder, and the voice was working through my mind to register where I knew it from. “It IS you, Bill,” I heard as he got around in front of me and looked at my face.
Oh, how much more handsome he was – impossible to imagine – than he’d been seven years ago, the last time I saw him, at our high school graduation. “John!” I said, stunned by running into him in England and stunned by the jolt of electricity that shot from my balls through my cock at seeing him.
John Wagner and I had played on the tennis team together in high school. We were both good, but he was destined to be great. He had the advantage of being from a rich family and having his own tennis coach, too, whereas my coaching came from our school coach and the odd game at John’s house on their own court when his trainer was there.
“Wow, Bill, you’re a . . . “
“Marine,” I helped him identify my uniform.
“NICE!” he said, giving me the once-over. “Very nice, as a matter of fact.”
Did I really just get that signal? I’d fantasized so many times about John Wagner being naked with me, I had callouses on my left hand and on my cock through high school just from him. He had to be commenting on the uniform or my rank – that had to be it. “Thanks, John, appreciate that.”
“So what are you doing here? Other than watching the tennis, that is,” he added quickly with a laugh and a thousand-watt smile.
His smile jolted my nuts again. DAMN was he handsome. He was almost as tall as I – maybe six-two to my over six-four. He had very blond hair and icy blue eyes. And I remembered – with another jolt to my nuts – that he had a big uncircumcised dick that hung beautifully over a nice set of big low-hangers. “I’m posted to the American Embassy in Paris, and the Ambassador and his wife got me tickets.”
“Ah, nice, hobnobbing, eh?” he said, laughing and grinning.
I laughed uncomfortably, not thinking my career in the Marines was anywhere near that trivial. “Actually my posting is to the Ambassador himself at the embassy, and I have responsibilities to him. That’s why I’m here in England. They were nice enough to get me tickets as a gift.”
It sounded stiff and defensive to me as I finished saying it, but John just laughed and cuffed me on the shoulder and said, “Hey, you’re here. Greatest tennis event of them all. That’s what matters, right? You still play?”
“Not much now,” I said sadly and realized I missed it a lot.
“I’ve got a great idea then. I’ll get us one of the practice courts and we can play, unless you’re going back to the matches now. What do you say? A match for old times’ sake?”
“I don’t have tennis clothes or a racket or anything. How could I play?” And then it dawned on me. “And you can get us a court? Here? Now who’s hobnobbing?” I said with a snarky laugh.
“What size shoe do you wear?”
“I, uh, I wear a 14,” I said, a little self-consciously.
“Come on – someone’s got to have some shoes you can borrow. And I’ve got plenty of clothes because I’d inTENded to play more than the first damn round when that Norwegian came at me like he was wielding Thor’s hammer!”
Ah, now it made sense. Of course he was a player here. He was born to it. And from what I remembered of our time in school, he wasn’t all that interested in academics except for the opportunity to play the sports.
As it happened, we did find some shoes for me to borrow, and I wore John’s extra tennis shorts and shirt and jock strap and socks, which was weird, but also HOT as far as it went. We played best two out of three, and I lost the first set rather badly, so I was battling through the second set and won it with a lucky bounce off the net in the long tie-break. And the third set went to five-four, too, but he beat me soundly in the last game to take it six-four.
We headed back to the locker room, congratulating each other and taunting each other some in good humor, and I was trying to keep my mind off the scent of his sweat or the thoughts of having seen him naked earlier and how much I’d enjoyed it and was looking forward to it again. He was ahead of me at one point and stopped short for some people who crossed our path, and I bumped into him. My long inhale of the sweat on the back of his neck and hair was involuntary, and the feel of his body against mine caused that familiar jolt through my nuts. Difference was this time my cock started to swell instantly. “Sorry!”
He turned around and took a step back to where I’d moved back after the impact. His eyes bore into me. “I’m going to take a leap here Bill, and I hope you don’t go all Marine on me or anything.” He paused, waiting for what, I didn’t know, but I was holding my breath at the same time as the blood was pumping into my cock. He moved even closer, until we were almost nose to nose. “I’ve always wanted you, Bill, to be with you. There, I’ve said it.”
Instinctively I looked around to see if anyone heard that or was watching us. And although there were ten gillion people around, nobody was paying us the slightest bit of attention. “I, um . . . “ I struggled but nothing came out.
“So, handsome, sexy marine and old friend, should I take you NOT going all commando on me as a good sign?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” I said simply.
“WOOOOO FUCKING HOOOO,” he said loudly, pumping the air with his fist. I did my scared shitless look around again. There was still nobody who cared in the least what we were doing, only that we weren’t “anybody”. I vaguely wondered if that bothered John, as he obviously was somebody on the tour, first round loss or not. “Let’s get showered up and go somewhere.”
“NO,” I protested louder than I’d meant to.
“No?” he said, perplexed.
“I mean, I want to lick the sweat off you,” I said in an almost whisper.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk,” was all he said to that.
We grabbed our stuff from the locker room and used one of his bags to stuff clothes into and left. I had called for the Ambassador’s car when we got to the lockers, and it was there when we walked to the entrance.
The ride into London was excruciating because we had to play it cool. I for one could only think of my throbbing hardon in John’s shorts and how much I wanted to jump him.
We’d decided to go to his hotel because I was reluctant to take a man into my room which was part of the vast suite the Ambassador had. And when we got there the decision was affirmed for another reason as we jumped each other roughly and sent lamps and other things in the room flying and breaking as we were all over each other like animals in mating season.
Our sweat and endorphins were heavy in the air and were just fueling our urgency all the more. We were at each other, grinding our hardons into each other, both still in our tennis shorts but out of our shirts cast somewhere along the way. Our lips were clamped on each other’s and our tongues were dueling roughly amidst the sucking, chewing and kissing.
John pulled me down onto him on the bed and had his legs wrapped around me, still with both our sweaty socks on, grinding our groins together in our shorts and sweaty jock straps. I got down and got his shorts opened and ripped off him and shoved my face into his stinking jock. We both moaned loudly and the moans turned into growls as I lifted his legs and ass into the air and sucked the sweat out of his crack and hole. “Oh fucking hell Bill, fucking EAT my hole!” John shouted, pulling his ass cheeks open wider so that I could get in deeper.
“I’m going to fuck this hole,” I declared in response.
I managed to get my own shorts opened, feeling the vast wet spot that wasn’t from sweat but was from my drooling cockhead which had gotten free of my jock strap – actually John’s jock strap that I was wearing and that was HOT! – somewhere along the way. The inside of my shorts were thick with it.
I struggled to get my shorts off and did something I’ve never done before – left my socks on and didn’t give them a second thought. “Lube,” I demanded.
John threw his arm toward the chest by the side of the bed but couldn’t reach. I climbed over him to get to it and he roughly grabbed my raging cock and pulled his head to it and sucked in my gorged head. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkk,” I exclaimed, yanking the drawer out and groping for the lube and condoms.
When I had them in my grasp I tried to disengage from John’s mouth, but he grabbed my balls HARD and held me in place, sucking hungrily. “GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.” I growled in protest, but I shoved my cock in hard and deeper and was rewarded with John’s moan before he started choking and gagging. I roughly pulled out and threw the lube at him and ordered, “Get that fuckhole ready NOW!”
John did as I said, lubing his hole and obviously enjoying it. I enjoyed watching him finger himself roughly as I tore open a condom and stretched it uncomfortably over my throbbing cock.
“C’mon Bill fuck me!” John demanded, and he had his legs up, knees by his shoulders and hole ready. I mounted him roughly – we were both too worked up to wait, and I shoved my huge cockhead inside him roughly but stopped and held my position when he shouted. While he was breathing and I was waiting for his slick cunt to relax its vise grip hold on me, I struggled and got my sweaty stinking jock strap off and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he protested, but he also inhaled deeply and moaned again, and his ass suddenly relaxed, and I SHOVED in balls deep. “AAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!” came through the jock stuffed in his mouth.
I couldn’t wait any more, couldn’t hold back any more, and I went to town drilling his ass. He was yelling through the jock strap but made no effort to pull the rank thing out of his mouth. And he started back-thrusting into me, meeting my thrusts. I reached down and grabbed his cock out of his jock strap which was still on and started stroking it, and his head thrashed about from the added stimulation.
I drilled him harder, pumped that cunt like it was my entire existence, HARD, DEEP and FAST. I felt him respond as my gorged cockhead knocked his prostate, felt his body jolt and his cock in my hand throb, and I adjusted my aim to really give it to him. And it wasn’t long before his shouts were plain despite them being muffled to the words being incomprehensible. And his ass was clenching and spasming around me as I felt his first blast out of his cock.
The cumblast felt harder than it was, splatting on his abs limply, but his spasming fuckchute had me going over the edge. And just as I did his second cumblast shot HARD and went to John’s face and hair. Fucking hot! I started blasting into the condom inside him as his cock gave a few more big shots as I held it and felt its waning power.
John’s eyes were closed and his teeth were still clenched on my filthy jock strap. He was panting heavily as I was, both our chests heaving. When I pulled out of him his eyes went wide and he gave a muffled yelp. When I pulled off the condom I was damn proud of the huge amount of cum I output. I held it up so John could see as I climbed off the bed to go and throw it away in his bathroom, but he grrrrr’ed through the gag and shook his head. I looked puzzled at him, but he motioned me to come closer. I pulled the jock strap out of his mouth, now stinking worse for his saliva mixed with my sweat from before. “That,” he said, shifting his eyes to the jock, “NEVER gets washed! And I want your cum on it too.”
I handed him the condom and held out the jockstrap so that the pouch was like a bowl, and he poured what he could of my cum out of the condom into it. He smushed it up to get the cum into the fabric then put it over his nose and inhaled deeply. “I don’t ever want to forget this,” he said, almost reverently.
I had no words, and I sat down on the bed by him. He was gorgeous – physically incredible, as he always had been, and his cum on his torso was icing on a very hot and tasty cake. Suddenly I got an idea and yanked his jock strap off him and wiped his cum off him with it. I smelled it and recognized a concentration of the smells of him I’d so enjoyed. “This one’s mine.”
We both smiled and then laughed.
“Stay with me tonight, Bill,” he said when we’d stopped laughing. “Let’s go get some dinner and then come back and have a long wild night.”
I couldn’t, of course, but damn I wanted to. It was already past time the Ambassador and his wife should be getting back to the hotel for the evening, and I should be there. When I said that, John asked if I couldn’t call and tell them I had run into a friend and would be back early in the morning. I was reluctant, but my lower head did the decisioning on that point. And when I called the hotel, the Ambassador told me to bring my friend for breakfast and to the match with us, if I liked. A class act, my boss.
We never did go out for dinner. We had room service between marathon bouts of fucking, showering, sucking, showering again and horsing around. I insisted we get some sleep at around midnight, and we were both exhausted enough that no persuasion was required.
The dawn had us repeating, and by then we were in great synch and really working it well together. I was in a hurry to get to my hotel to change and get ready for breakfast, and I was surprised that John was happy to accept the invitation.
When we got to the Savoy I took him quietly in through the hall door to my own room. I checked in the living room to see if the Ambassador or his wife were up or not, and they weren’t, so I closed the door. I had John wait while I quickly showered in my own shower and dressed in a fresh uniform. Marines are quick anyway, and John commented on it. “Glad you’re not that quick in everything,” he said, grinning.
I gave him a playful shove, which he used to grab me and pulled me in for a kiss. Nice. “Come on, the Ambassador will be up for breakfast any minute.”
And I was right, because just as I led John through to the living room, the Ambassador and his wife were entering from the other side. The Ambassador brightened and called, “John!” And while I was busy being surprised, John rushed past me to shake his hand and to hug the Ambassador’s wife, with “Aunt Edith, Uncle Archy,” coming from him.
Of course John would know the Ambassador. John’s family was rich, and the Ambassador was rich. Didn’t all rich people know each other?
“I didn’t know you knew my nephew, Captain Cate, but then again, how would I have known?”
At that point the doorbell rang with a breakfast feast, and we abandoned the six degrees conversation in favor of food. I was pretty much left out of the conversation as John and his aunt and uncle chatted about family and family friends, occasionally attempting to clue me in – unsuccessfully – on who they were.
When it was over and the Ambassador’s wife had retired to their rooms to get ready to go to the match and John had gone in to wash his hands, the Ambassador came close to me. “You could do a lot worse than my nephew, Captain,” he said. And when my jaw dropped open, he said, “And he could do a lot worse than you.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I went with a hedge. “We played tennis in high school together, sir.”
“And you obviously are closer than that now, if the glow you both still have is any indication.”
“Sir, I—“
“Captain, I have no issue whatsoever with what people are. And I know that your career and my nephew’s have you worlds apart except for this intersection here in London. But I’m glad you’ve had this time at least. We all deserve human companionship. And I think you’re both fine young men.”
I wasn’t surprised that the Ambassador wasn’t a bigot or homophobe. I was surprised that he was so perceptive and eager to embrace our night and morning of wild sex. It was a little unnerving. But I thanked him genuinely.
John and I had some time together before we all left to go down to Wimbledon, and the first thing I did when I got alone with him was say, “OH MY GOD!”
John just laughed like this stuff happens all the time. “My uncle just told me I had good taste in friends.”
“Friends or FRIENDS?” I asked, emphasizing with quote marks in the air.
John just laughed again and said, “Friends, Bill. No he didn’t say I had good taste in fuck buds.”
Good thing!
We left after the match with promises that John would visit the Ambassador, but it never happened while I was there. So we’d always have London . . . not Paris, like Bergman and Bogie in Casablanca.
The ambassador and his wife surprised me when we got to London and I checked us into our lavish accommodations in the Grosvenor House hotel on Park Lane by giving my tickets to all the seven days’ matches while we would be there. I was thrilled and a little awed, even though they’d told me that my seat wouldn’t be in the private box where they would be seated with the Duke. Hell I didn’t care. I’d played tennis in high school and then at the academy and was pretty good, and I now played tennis casually when I could. I liked the sport enough to follow it some as far as the major titles, too, so Wimbledon was a big deal overall.
The first match we saw was one of the quarter-finals for women. By the end of the women’s quarters I was thrilled to watch matches with Steffi Graf, Martina Navratilova, Gabriela Sabatini and Monica Seles all winning to move to the semi-finals. And the men’s quarters that week were as exciting, with Agassi, McEnroe, Sampras and Ivanisevic all advancing to the semis. I fell in love with Agassi watching him scrap it out with Becker, and I jacked off that night thinking about licking his hairy body all over. And somewhere in my edging and stroking, Becker had joined us, and I vividly enjoyed sucking his fat uncut German sausage too!
During the men’s semi-finals, it was Ivanisovec and Sampras who accompanied my enthusiastic spank-fest that night. Something about Agassi trouncing McEnroe in their match seemed too easy for the pretty-boy, but the slugfest between Sampras and Ivanisevic had me pigging out on those two hunks not just one load that night but two. Fortunately the housekeeping staff at the Grosvenor House was on top of things and changed the soiled sheets out daily. They must have thought I was having more fun than my left hand was actually giving me!
The day of the women’s finals was a long day. The ambassador and his wife were watching all the matches that day with the Duke and his family. I had the use of the ambassador’s driver if I wanted to leave early, and after Steffi Graf beat the tar out of Monica Seles, like she had Gabriela Sabatini to get to the finals – at least Martina made Monica work for every point in their semi-final match! – I was walking around the courts, glancing at some of the lesser matches, doubles, boys and girls.
It was as I was finally walking to the office to call the ambassador’s driver that I heard my name being called. It had been a while since I’d been called by anything but my last name, certainly since I entered the Academy, and it didn’t register until I felt a hand on my shoulder, and the voice was working through my mind to register where I knew it from. “It IS you, Bill,” I heard as he got around in front of me and looked at my face.
Oh, how much more handsome he was – impossible to imagine – than he’d been seven years ago, the last time I saw him, at our high school graduation. “John!” I said, stunned by running into him in England and stunned by the jolt of electricity that shot from my balls through my cock at seeing him.
John Wagner and I had played on the tennis team together in high school. We were both good, but he was destined to be great. He had the advantage of being from a rich family and having his own tennis coach, too, whereas my coaching came from our school coach and the odd game at John’s house on their own court when his trainer was there.
“Wow, Bill, you’re a . . . “
“Marine,” I helped him identify my uniform.
“NICE!” he said, giving me the once-over. “Very nice, as a matter of fact.”
Did I really just get that signal? I’d fantasized so many times about John Wagner being naked with me, I had callouses on my left hand and on my cock through high school just from him. He had to be commenting on the uniform or my rank – that had to be it. “Thanks, John, appreciate that.”
“So what are you doing here? Other than watching the tennis, that is,” he added quickly with a laugh and a thousand-watt smile.
His smile jolted my nuts again. DAMN was he handsome. He was almost as tall as I – maybe six-two to my over six-four. He had very blond hair and icy blue eyes. And I remembered – with another jolt to my nuts – that he had a big uncircumcised dick that hung beautifully over a nice set of big low-hangers. “I’m posted to the American Embassy in Paris, and the Ambassador and his wife got me tickets.”
“Ah, nice, hobnobbing, eh?” he said, laughing and grinning.
I laughed uncomfortably, not thinking my career in the Marines was anywhere near that trivial. “Actually my posting is to the Ambassador himself at the embassy, and I have responsibilities to him. That’s why I’m here in England. They were nice enough to get me tickets as a gift.”
It sounded stiff and defensive to me as I finished saying it, but John just laughed and cuffed me on the shoulder and said, “Hey, you’re here. Greatest tennis event of them all. That’s what matters, right? You still play?”
“Not much now,” I said sadly and realized I missed it a lot.
“I’ve got a great idea then. I’ll get us one of the practice courts and we can play, unless you’re going back to the matches now. What do you say? A match for old times’ sake?”
“I don’t have tennis clothes or a racket or anything. How could I play?” And then it dawned on me. “And you can get us a court? Here? Now who’s hobnobbing?” I said with a snarky laugh.
“What size shoe do you wear?”
“I, uh, I wear a 14,” I said, a little self-consciously.
“Come on – someone’s got to have some shoes you can borrow. And I’ve got plenty of clothes because I’d inTENded to play more than the first damn round when that Norwegian came at me like he was wielding Thor’s hammer!”
Ah, now it made sense. Of course he was a player here. He was born to it. And from what I remembered of our time in school, he wasn’t all that interested in academics except for the opportunity to play the sports.
As it happened, we did find some shoes for me to borrow, and I wore John’s extra tennis shorts and shirt and jock strap and socks, which was weird, but also HOT as far as it went. We played best two out of three, and I lost the first set rather badly, so I was battling through the second set and won it with a lucky bounce off the net in the long tie-break. And the third set went to five-four, too, but he beat me soundly in the last game to take it six-four.
We headed back to the locker room, congratulating each other and taunting each other some in good humor, and I was trying to keep my mind off the scent of his sweat or the thoughts of having seen him naked earlier and how much I’d enjoyed it and was looking forward to it again. He was ahead of me at one point and stopped short for some people who crossed our path, and I bumped into him. My long inhale of the sweat on the back of his neck and hair was involuntary, and the feel of his body against mine caused that familiar jolt through my nuts. Difference was this time my cock started to swell instantly. “Sorry!”
He turned around and took a step back to where I’d moved back after the impact. His eyes bore into me. “I’m going to take a leap here Bill, and I hope you don’t go all Marine on me or anything.” He paused, waiting for what, I didn’t know, but I was holding my breath at the same time as the blood was pumping into my cock. He moved even closer, until we were almost nose to nose. “I’ve always wanted you, Bill, to be with you. There, I’ve said it.”
Instinctively I looked around to see if anyone heard that or was watching us. And although there were ten gillion people around, nobody was paying us the slightest bit of attention. “I, um . . . “ I struggled but nothing came out.
“So, handsome, sexy marine and old friend, should I take you NOT going all commando on me as a good sign?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” I said simply.
“WOOOOO FUCKING HOOOO,” he said loudly, pumping the air with his fist. I did my scared shitless look around again. There was still nobody who cared in the least what we were doing, only that we weren’t “anybody”. I vaguely wondered if that bothered John, as he obviously was somebody on the tour, first round loss or not. “Let’s get showered up and go somewhere.”
“NO,” I protested louder than I’d meant to.
“No?” he said, perplexed.
“I mean, I want to lick the sweat off you,” I said in an almost whisper.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk,” was all he said to that.
We grabbed our stuff from the locker room and used one of his bags to stuff clothes into and left. I had called for the Ambassador’s car when we got to the lockers, and it was there when we walked to the entrance.
The ride into London was excruciating because we had to play it cool. I for one could only think of my throbbing hardon in John’s shorts and how much I wanted to jump him.
We’d decided to go to his hotel because I was reluctant to take a man into my room which was part of the vast suite the Ambassador had. And when we got there the decision was affirmed for another reason as we jumped each other roughly and sent lamps and other things in the room flying and breaking as we were all over each other like animals in mating season.
Our sweat and endorphins were heavy in the air and were just fueling our urgency all the more. We were at each other, grinding our hardons into each other, both still in our tennis shorts but out of our shirts cast somewhere along the way. Our lips were clamped on each other’s and our tongues were dueling roughly amidst the sucking, chewing and kissing.
John pulled me down onto him on the bed and had his legs wrapped around me, still with both our sweaty socks on, grinding our groins together in our shorts and sweaty jock straps. I got down and got his shorts opened and ripped off him and shoved my face into his stinking jock. We both moaned loudly and the moans turned into growls as I lifted his legs and ass into the air and sucked the sweat out of his crack and hole. “Oh fucking hell Bill, fucking EAT my hole!” John shouted, pulling his ass cheeks open wider so that I could get in deeper.
“I’m going to fuck this hole,” I declared in response.
I managed to get my own shorts opened, feeling the vast wet spot that wasn’t from sweat but was from my drooling cockhead which had gotten free of my jock strap – actually John’s jock strap that I was wearing and that was HOT! – somewhere along the way. The inside of my shorts were thick with it.
I struggled to get my shorts off and did something I’ve never done before – left my socks on and didn’t give them a second thought. “Lube,” I demanded.
John threw his arm toward the chest by the side of the bed but couldn’t reach. I climbed over him to get to it and he roughly grabbed my raging cock and pulled his head to it and sucked in my gorged head. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkkk,” I exclaimed, yanking the drawer out and groping for the lube and condoms.
When I had them in my grasp I tried to disengage from John’s mouth, but he grabbed my balls HARD and held me in place, sucking hungrily. “GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.” I growled in protest, but I shoved my cock in hard and deeper and was rewarded with John’s moan before he started choking and gagging. I roughly pulled out and threw the lube at him and ordered, “Get that fuckhole ready NOW!”
John did as I said, lubing his hole and obviously enjoying it. I enjoyed watching him finger himself roughly as I tore open a condom and stretched it uncomfortably over my throbbing cock.
“C’mon Bill fuck me!” John demanded, and he had his legs up, knees by his shoulders and hole ready. I mounted him roughly – we were both too worked up to wait, and I shoved my huge cockhead inside him roughly but stopped and held my position when he shouted. While he was breathing and I was waiting for his slick cunt to relax its vise grip hold on me, I struggled and got my sweaty stinking jock strap off and shoved it in his mouth. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he protested, but he also inhaled deeply and moaned again, and his ass suddenly relaxed, and I SHOVED in balls deep. “AAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!” came through the jock stuffed in his mouth.
I couldn’t wait any more, couldn’t hold back any more, and I went to town drilling his ass. He was yelling through the jock strap but made no effort to pull the rank thing out of his mouth. And he started back-thrusting into me, meeting my thrusts. I reached down and grabbed his cock out of his jock strap which was still on and started stroking it, and his head thrashed about from the added stimulation.
I drilled him harder, pumped that cunt like it was my entire existence, HARD, DEEP and FAST. I felt him respond as my gorged cockhead knocked his prostate, felt his body jolt and his cock in my hand throb, and I adjusted my aim to really give it to him. And it wasn’t long before his shouts were plain despite them being muffled to the words being incomprehensible. And his ass was clenching and spasming around me as I felt his first blast out of his cock.
The cumblast felt harder than it was, splatting on his abs limply, but his spasming fuckchute had me going over the edge. And just as I did his second cumblast shot HARD and went to John’s face and hair. Fucking hot! I started blasting into the condom inside him as his cock gave a few more big shots as I held it and felt its waning power.
John’s eyes were closed and his teeth were still clenched on my filthy jock strap. He was panting heavily as I was, both our chests heaving. When I pulled out of him his eyes went wide and he gave a muffled yelp. When I pulled off the condom I was damn proud of the huge amount of cum I output. I held it up so John could see as I climbed off the bed to go and throw it away in his bathroom, but he grrrrr’ed through the gag and shook his head. I looked puzzled at him, but he motioned me to come closer. I pulled the jock strap out of his mouth, now stinking worse for his saliva mixed with my sweat from before. “That,” he said, shifting his eyes to the jock, “NEVER gets washed! And I want your cum on it too.”
I handed him the condom and held out the jockstrap so that the pouch was like a bowl, and he poured what he could of my cum out of the condom into it. He smushed it up to get the cum into the fabric then put it over his nose and inhaled deeply. “I don’t ever want to forget this,” he said, almost reverently.
I had no words, and I sat down on the bed by him. He was gorgeous – physically incredible, as he always had been, and his cum on his torso was icing on a very hot and tasty cake. Suddenly I got an idea and yanked his jock strap off him and wiped his cum off him with it. I smelled it and recognized a concentration of the smells of him I’d so enjoyed. “This one’s mine.”
We both smiled and then laughed.
“Stay with me tonight, Bill,” he said when we’d stopped laughing. “Let’s go get some dinner and then come back and have a long wild night.”
I couldn’t, of course, but damn I wanted to. It was already past time the Ambassador and his wife should be getting back to the hotel for the evening, and I should be there. When I said that, John asked if I couldn’t call and tell them I had run into a friend and would be back early in the morning. I was reluctant, but my lower head did the decisioning on that point. And when I called the hotel, the Ambassador told me to bring my friend for breakfast and to the match with us, if I liked. A class act, my boss.
We never did go out for dinner. We had room service between marathon bouts of fucking, showering, sucking, showering again and horsing around. I insisted we get some sleep at around midnight, and we were both exhausted enough that no persuasion was required.
The dawn had us repeating, and by then we were in great synch and really working it well together. I was in a hurry to get to my hotel to change and get ready for breakfast, and I was surprised that John was happy to accept the invitation.
When we got to the Savoy I took him quietly in through the hall door to my own room. I checked in the living room to see if the Ambassador or his wife were up or not, and they weren’t, so I closed the door. I had John wait while I quickly showered in my own shower and dressed in a fresh uniform. Marines are quick anyway, and John commented on it. “Glad you’re not that quick in everything,” he said, grinning.
I gave him a playful shove, which he used to grab me and pulled me in for a kiss. Nice. “Come on, the Ambassador will be up for breakfast any minute.”
And I was right, because just as I led John through to the living room, the Ambassador and his wife were entering from the other side. The Ambassador brightened and called, “John!” And while I was busy being surprised, John rushed past me to shake his hand and to hug the Ambassador’s wife, with “Aunt Edith, Uncle Archy,” coming from him.
Of course John would know the Ambassador. John’s family was rich, and the Ambassador was rich. Didn’t all rich people know each other?
“I didn’t know you knew my nephew, Captain Cate, but then again, how would I have known?”
At that point the doorbell rang with a breakfast feast, and we abandoned the six degrees conversation in favor of food. I was pretty much left out of the conversation as John and his aunt and uncle chatted about family and family friends, occasionally attempting to clue me in – unsuccessfully – on who they were.
When it was over and the Ambassador’s wife had retired to their rooms to get ready to go to the match and John had gone in to wash his hands, the Ambassador came close to me. “You could do a lot worse than my nephew, Captain,” he said. And when my jaw dropped open, he said, “And he could do a lot worse than you.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I went with a hedge. “We played tennis in high school together, sir.”
“And you obviously are closer than that now, if the glow you both still have is any indication.”
“Sir, I—“
“Captain, I have no issue whatsoever with what people are. And I know that your career and my nephew’s have you worlds apart except for this intersection here in London. But I’m glad you’ve had this time at least. We all deserve human companionship. And I think you’re both fine young men.”
I wasn’t surprised that the Ambassador wasn’t a bigot or homophobe. I was surprised that he was so perceptive and eager to embrace our night and morning of wild sex. It was a little unnerving. But I thanked him genuinely.
John and I had some time together before we all left to go down to Wimbledon, and the first thing I did when I got alone with him was say, “OH MY GOD!”
John just laughed like this stuff happens all the time. “My uncle just told me I had good taste in friends.”
“Friends or FRIENDS?” I asked, emphasizing with quote marks in the air.
John just laughed again and said, “Friends, Bill. No he didn’t say I had good taste in fuck buds.”
Good thing!
We left after the match with promises that John would visit the Ambassador, but it never happened while I was there. So we’d always have London . . . not Paris, like Bergman and Bogie in Casablanca.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
The Naive Marine Lieutenant Plays With The NFL
I was on leave and had caught transport to the first place I could find with sun. Turned out to be Tampa. I went to the Grand Hyatt and sort of crashed the pool. OK, I totally crashed it. I wasn’t a checked-in guest, and had no hope of being one on my budget, but I thought the pool would be a great place to enjoy some sun. I was right about that. Not only was there plenty of sun, but there was also an entire team of football players at the pool, in town to play the Bucs.
I didn’t know that when I snuck into the bathroom off the lobby and changed from my uni into my board shorts, or I might have added a jock strap to have some hope of containing my cock. Because the moment I hit the pool area and got the wide angle of beef everywhere. I’d had my share of beef over the past five years – the US Naval Academy and then stationed at Patuxent as a fairly green first lieutenant – but these guys were a sight to behold.
Maybe it was all the oiled big-muscled bodies, maybe it was just that they were Marines I was surrounded by after the three years at the Academy and then one at Quantico and now at Patuxent. Or maybe it was that they were all athletes and athletes’ bodies had always been my weakness. And today was no exception, as my big cock tented my board shorts as I stood there gazing out on the fantasy beef sex smorgasbord.
“Would you like me to get you a towel and a lounge, sir,” startled me as a pool attendant had approached me during my moment of transfixed awe. “Or anything else,” he said, with a snarky smile, looking down at my tented shorts.
OK, so he was ‘friendly’. And as I looked him up and down I thought: possible. But I more quickly brought my pack around to hold it in front of my obvious excitement. He laughed a little and handed me a big towel. “Here, this is easier,” he said, having handed over the towel partially unfolded so that it hung down in front of me when I took it.
I grinned at him. “Thanks, man.” And I took another look and decided he was way more than a possibility.
“It’s Man-NEE,” he enunciated. I showed my confusion, and he pointed to his nametag which said he was Manny, from New York City. “Manny, at your service,” he said in a clearly sexual context.
“Mmmmm,” I responded involuntarily, and then I looked back to the poolside and in-pool beef-fest. “Maybe when I’ve had some sun I’ll take you up on that, Man-NEE.”
My big smile seemed to be enough to overcome the brushoff I was giving him because he told me to follow him and took me right into the midst of one of the clumps of guys and a few girls to a lounge that appeared unoccupied. “You guys have this one saved for anyone?” Manny asked them?
One of the guys looked like he was going to say he did, and then he took a long look up and down me and seemed to change his mind. “No, go ahead and get in here with us,” he said to me. “Marine?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, proudly. “On a few days’ leave.”
Manny was laying a towel out, and I fumbled in my pack for some money to give him, but the football player grabbed up a five dollar bill from their table and said, “Here, Manny, thanks for taking care of our men OUT OF uniform,” and winked at him. Manny’s blush made me wonder if he’d “taken care of” the football player, too.
“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” I said, and I put out my hand. “Lieutenant Bill Cate,” I said.
But the football player was not looking at my hand or at my eyes. When I’d reflexively put out my hand to shake his, I’d forgotten about the space shuttle in my board shorts, and his eyes were riveted on my huge bulge, the outline of my cock clear in my worn board shorts, and his tongue was visible, making a lap around his lips.
Of course, that did nothing to slake the need in my balls, and I felt my cock jump a little with renewed excitement. The football player reacted to my cock jumping with a shiver that rocked his body.
“Jesus, Duke, at least give the Marine a chance to relax and get settled before you devour him, ya horndog faggot,” another of the football players to his right said playfully and threw a drink on him.
I had gone totally rigid – the part of my body which hadn’t already been rigid – at “faggot”, but the drink and the laughing from the guy who’d said it seemed good natured. I really didn’t know much about the world, having gone from high school to the Academy and then to posting, but I knew enough to be wary of men who threw the word ‘faggot’ around, and I wasn’t totally relaxed.
Duke snarled at the other football player, “I’ll deal with you later,” to a round of “Oooooooooo’s” from a few of the other guys, who just as quickly went back to their Walkmans or girls or friends. “Don’t mind Jake, Billy,” Duke said, licentiously using my family’s nickname for me and again going straight to my nuts and hard cock because in a way he reminded me of my HOT older stepbrother Cain. “Duke Jackson here,” he said, and this time he put his big hand out to shake.
I’d recovered the towel over my . . . problem, but I wasn’t going to be rude. So I took his hand, and we shook, both of us with firm grips . . . and electricity flying between us. Or was it just my imagination?
No, as I got some objectivity back I saw that his eyes were again riveted on my hardon. Which wasn’t all that avoidable, as he was sitting on a lounge and I was standing with my cock about at his eye level.
Our handshake lasted longer than it should have, but not long enough that when we finally parted, my entire body didn’t feel a pang of regret. I finally regained myself enough to say, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jackson.”
Duke laughed. “Mr. Jackson is my father, Billy. I’m just Duke. And how old are you, anyway?”
“I’m twenty-three, sir,” I responded, still standing, now with no reason not to cover my hardon but not having done so.
“Well, Billy, I’m only twenty-six, so let’s can the ‘sir’ or at least postpone it until we’re both undressed, he said with a leer in the direction of my crotch.
HOLY FUCK!
“As you wish, Duke,” I said, softer and a little uneasily.
I was really looking at him, and I was taking in all of him now, individually as opposed to one of the beefcake herd. He was blond and furry over a tightly muscled body, and his green eyes sparkled under the bill of his team’s cap which shaded those beautiful eyes from the sun. He had a handsome face – knee-weakingly handsome as a matter of fact. His own swimsuit was looking tight in the right place, too.
“I do wish,” he said, also quietly, and I almost fell into my lounge. “But let’s enjoy the sun for now, and I need to rinse this pina colada off me before my body hair gets all gooey.”
It was a miracle I didn’t blurt out, “Let me lick you clean.” Somehow, though, I said, “I’ll get myself settled.”
Duke gave me another once over and said he’d be back and got up from the lounge. As he passed Jake’s lounge he gave him some shit, and Jake laughed, and so did Duke. They were obviously good friends.
I spent a couple of hours in the sun until it was around four. The sun was still nice. I’d been in and out of the pool. Another miracle was that my cock had calmed down enough for me to not make a complete spectacle of myself. Of course, my worn-thin board shorts with nothing under them did a good job of highlighting my equipment when I was wet, too.
I’d horsed around with the other players, introduced to names familiar to me from spectatating, and Duke and I had talked some lounge to lounge. Nothing heavy or particularly personal, just a couple of guys talking. And nothing suggestive after he’d come back from the poolside shower, having rinsed off the cool-down drink Jake had thrown at him.
“Are you staying here?” Duke asked me out of the blue after a long stretch of quiet.
“You’re kidding, right? I crashed the pool here, and I couldn’t afford to stay here. I’ll be on my way looking for somewhere to flop or crashing on the beach later.”
“I have a room,” he said, simply, having turned to look directly at me.
“O . . . K . . . “ I said, tentatively.
“And, yes, I have one big bed,” he said, with equal seriousness.
I had two ways to go here. I had no idea if his earlier interest in my hardon had been superseded by caution or disinterest and his offer was just being a nice guy. OR, was he being low-key so as not to be obvious to his buds? Or . . . my mind was running wild with uncertainty.
I guess Duke saw it, my uncertainty, and he inadvertently solved it. “Bill, it’s an open-ended offer. You can have a place to crash because you’re a nice guy, whether we take advantage of the fact that I think you’re hot as hell or not.”
“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse, Duke,” I said, relieved.
With equal seriousness as before but softer he said, “I am betting neither one of us will be able to refuse each other.” And then he smiled, and my nuts felt an electric jolt.
“Mmmmm,” was all I could manage. My cock, on the other hand, was resurging. And my face was painted in a grin I couldn’t have wiped off it I wanted to.
* * * * * * * * * *
We were in Duke Jackson’s shower in Duke Jackson’s very nice room at the Grand Hyatt. I WAS IN THE SHOWER NAKED WITH DUKE JACKSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We were plastered together under the spray, hands everywhere, groping, grabbing, holding, and our mouths were hungrily devouring each other’s faces, necks, shoulders, chests.
I’d already had to knock his hand away from my raging fuckrod because I was so close to cumming that quick. Hell, I make no excuses for my almost-prematurity. To repeat: I WAS IN THE FUCKING SHOWER FUCKING STARK NAKED WITH MY HANDS ALL OVER DUKE JACKSON AND MY HARDON AND HIS GRINDING TOGETHER BETWEEN US AGAINST OUR ROCK HARD ABS!
He and I were roughly the same height – six four – and although he was smaller than I cock-wise, his body had about thirty-five more pounds of muscle on it, and every mound, slab, cord was tantalizing me. Between the warm water, the heat of our bodies and the gropes, grabs, bites, licks and grinds, the water should have been sizzling off us. When he went to his knees, I yelled something vaguely like “OH FUCK YEAH!” and in my mind I was thinking FUCKN A LAST YEAR’S MVP HAS YOUR COCK IN HIS MOUTH AND IS GOING TO SUCK DOWN YOUR SEED, MARINE!
He went at my raging fuckmeat with a hunger that had skyrockets going off in my nuts and threatened to cut the enjoyment of his sucking, slurping and stroking way too short. I tried to push the hotness of the moment out of my mind, but it was a losing cause. Sisyphus had an easier task than I did in that shower to suppress my building ball-blast. When he got a long finger up my hole and started massaging my prostate, I did scream “OH FUCK!” as my entire body went atomic. I don’t even remember much of it, barely coming back to consciousness when he shoved me around roughly against the shower wall.
He was on his knees and had his face in my crack, and then I felt the indescribable ecstasy of his tongue up my hole. I didn’t have time to react, to tell him I didn’t GET fucked, before he was spitting my cum up my hole, slicking it up. FUCK! He was up and behind me and had two huge fingers up my cum-slicked hole before I could even process any farther, his back against me. In my ear I heard a packet tearing. How the FUCK had he got a condom in the shower?!
It was all too hot, and my brain was overloaded with incredible sensations, so when he put his sheathed cockhead against my hole, my body reacted not my brain. I pushed back HARD onto him, crying out wildly in pain but wanting that man to plow me.
The last time I’d gotten fucked was tree years before by my oldest stepbrother’s tree-trunk cock. Duke was considerably smaller than Cain and I, but my ass felt like a telephone pole had been shoved up it. That didn’t stop me from fucking myself on his cock.
I’m sure Duke was traumatized by my banshee scream when I pushed back onto him without any prep time, and he was further taken by surprise when I started fucking myself on him. He told me afterward that he was paralyzed by fear of hurting me despite his intense desire to fuck me. He hadn’t started thrusting into me until I said over my shoulder, “A little help here?” I hadn’t remembered finding that moment of humor at that point, and when he had told me that later I thought to myself I remember that as saying “FUCK ME STUD!” HA!
Duke didn’t hesitate any longer, and he drilled my ass like he was drilling for oil. And being a terrible but also very wanton bottom, I both yelled my head off because it felt like he was banging my guts out and also met every thrust and taunted him to fuck me harder and even at one point said, “Wait ‘til it’s my turn, you NFL pussy, and then you’ll see how a Marine fucks and know what it is to be fucked by a MAN!” And I swear to God I was praising Jesus that Duke was already pounding me like his life depended on it because if he had pounded me any harder I don’t know if I could have taken it.
I was holding onto the showerhead pipe where it came out of the tile for dear life, my forearms from elbow to my hands around the pipe against the tile bracing myself as he pounded me. He was growling and moaning and sometimes yelling things like, “You know you love it; you KNOW you are made for this.” I really wasn’t, but every word inflamed my desire to feel him lose his nutload.
Finally, without warning, he yanked his cock out and with one hand roughly pulled me around to face him and with the other was ripping off the condom. When I was turned around his hand went to my huge hardon and started pumping; and when he had the condom flung off him he started jacking his own rod. His cumblast was immediate, and it hit me hard enough to feel it, arcing up enough to splat over my chest. Mine was more leveled at his groin and went off after a couple of his blasts. “OH FUCKING JESUS CHRIST!” I growled against his repeated “OH GOD!”
When he stopped cumming he leaned forward and put his forehead on my right shoulder, and we both just stood there a while. The hot water was as hot as when it started, and we panted against each other, his one hand still on my cock, which I really liked. I wrapped my arms around him and he flinched a little like he wasn’t used to that much intimacy, then he relaxed into it and I hugged him tight. “Fucking awesome, Billy.”
I just laughed and said, “I’m the one who came twice here. Seems like I owe you one; and I think I owe that compliment to you, Duke! Hell, after that, you’re the KING!” And we both laughed a little at that as we caught our breath.
I was completely surprised when Duke turned his head up and pressed his lips to mine. I’d never kissed or been kissed by a man during, before or after sex. I was surprised, but I was carried away with the moment, and as he let go of my cock and wrapped his arms around me and we held each other tight, we kissed long and deep and as intimately as I could have ever fantasized about.
I can’t even describe it, the way it felt. My entire body was aroused, yet I was also relaxed and felt safe and where I should be in his arms. I had nothing to compare it to except for one time when I was fifteen and broke my leg in six places during a school break when my oldest stepbrother Cain was home and we were all playing soccer on our vast front lawn. I’m sure I was in shock because the sight of my bones protruding from my leg in three places was worse than the pain. I was big already by the – nearly six feet – yet my brother Cain at six-three scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the house, yelling at my other stepbrother Jared to have Mom or Dad call an ambulance. When Cain put me down incredibly gently on the sofa in the family room, as everyone was in a state about what had happened, Cain sat down with me in his lap, my leg out, and held me like that telling me “That was some play, bro.” But it was the way he held me – protectively, and soothingly – until the EMTs got there that was what I remembered. I was safe, I was in the arms of a man I idolized, a man I fantasized about. And Duke’s arms around me were something a lot like that.
When we finally broke what remained the longest kiss I’d ever have for over twenty years after that, I was weak-kneed. My head was spinning, and I was pretty certain I was dead and in heaven, not just in a hotel room with a pro football star. “Wow,” I understated.
He laughed and kissed me quickly again on my lips. “Wow for sure!” Damn he was handsome, even with water running over his head and down his face. “And as to owing me one, my ass is all yours next round, you jarhead stud you.”
“That would be Lieutenant Jarhead Stud to you!” I bantered back.
“Sir, yes, SIR,” he shouted surprisingly well. Unfortunately his salute would have earned him scathing assessment by any drill sergeant. I didn’t give a crap about it though; when he’d done the salute and brought his body as close as he’d come to attention, his cock had pushed into mine again, and that was the kind of salute this Marine needed.
We both laughed, and I cuffed him lightly on his handsome chin. “I’m turning into a prune here and I’m starved.” I looked down at his re-hardening cock against mine and gave him a ‘better check that’ look. He looked down and said, “You are massive, buddy. You’re going to tear me up with that divine instrument of sexual ecstasy!”
“Your choices are me and you alone or you join me with the team. They already know you’re hanging with us, and there are plenty of others around besides us.”
“I’m assuming you are talking dinner, not fucking you,” I said, although the whole team was a spankbank fantasy which had relieved me of many cumloads.
He reached up and tossled my hair. “Funny guy!” he said, as he threw me a big fluffy towel like I distantly remembered from when I lived at home. “Seriously I’m starved, so up to you.”
“You’d really have me join the team dinner, Duke? Wouldn’t that be a little . . . “ I was at a loss for words, being a closeted marine and knowing he was a closeted pro football player. Then again out by the pool Jake didn’t seem to have any question that Duke and I were on a sexual wavelength there. I was so confused.
Duke saw my confusion. “I’m not out, but I get away with a lot of stuff because I have never been caught. I can flirt with a gay man and just get teased about it without getting branded. If I got on my knees and sucked off the entire team, half would be shocked into a coma and the other half would be saying, ‘Really funny, Duke. Damn you’ll do anything to get a rise out of people won’t you?! Crazy Duke strikes again!’”
I didn’t begin to understand, and I knew I didn’t want to be the butt of some jokes with his buds on the team either. “I’m thinking I’d like to NOT be involved in any shock value of anything you do, Duke. At the same time I know it might be odd if you slipped away with me for dinner and didn’t spend time with your buds.”
Duke put his hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes. “Trust me when I tell you we have people join us all the time, Billy. Guys, girls, sometimes the in betweens. You’re a guy; you’re a Marine for chrissake. Nobody’s going to be thinking ‘those two are fucking up the ass’ I assure you. The guys will go crazy for a service man – we all appreciate your service. I’m a hundred thousand percent serious, Billy. I wouldn’t put you in a compromising situation.”
I trusted him, and I believed he knew his teammates better than I did. I knew I wasn’t the magic fag who’d come along and make him want to come out! “Take me to dinner, stud,” I said.
* * * * * * * * * *
We got back from dinner, and I was stumbling as we fell into Duke’s room. The guys had been awesome to me, as he said, and nobody so much as gave a hint of thinking I was anything but a groupie they’d picked up. They practically force-fed me food and tried to get me drunk too . . . and did a damn good job of both, actually.
The story that emerged was the truth . . . with a few details left out. I was a marine on leave, had crashed the pool at the nicest hotel there and not only that had nowhere to stay. Duke generously offered to let me crash with him. And the guys bought drinks for Duke for being such a generous guy to a service man.
And now we were back in Duke’s room, both drunk and already all over each other. “Good thing it’s your turn to do the fucking, jarhead, cuz I probably can’t get it up. I’m too wasted.”
I reached down and grabbed hold of his hardon through his shorts. “Ummmm, not that I’m giving up my turn at your hot ass, but there’s nothing wrong down here,” I said, giving it a good squeeze.
Before he could say anything else I’d pushed him down on the big bed and was pulling his shorts off him. He pulled the t-shirt of which had been clinging to his muscular torso and driving me crazy all night, and the sight of those mounds of muscle made a bolt of electricity shoot through me.
When I had his shorts pulled down and his flip flops off, I shoved him over on his stomach and dove tongue first into his ass. I’d NEVER done it before, but I’d had it done a couple of times and wanted to give Duke the same pleasure he’d given me and a couple of others had. “Oh, FUCK YEAH, eat that hole and get it all sloppy and ready for you, Billy,” he moaned.
And I did. I ate that sweaty hole of his and pigged out on it. The next day it felt like someone had pulled my tongue and half ripped it out of my mouth, and it was from shoving it DEEP in his tight hot musky hole. He writhed and moaned and clawed at the bed and shoved his ass back into my face, and all the while I licked, sucked, chewed and tongue fucked it and played roughly with his balls and raging cock. When he’d finally had as much as he could take apparently, he yanked open his bedside drawer and flung some condoms and a bottle of lube at me.
I worked the lube into his burning hot hole and had three fingers in him, and he was moaning like a bitch in heat and begging for my cock. For the first time I got my clothes off – careful to wipe the lube on my underwear so I didn’t get it on my clothes or the bed – and asked, “Is this how you want it, Duke? On your stomach?” as I got the condom stretched TOO TIGHT on my horsecock.
In response he flipped over, and he wrapped his legs around my chest and back and pulled me into him. His blue eyes were smoldering, and my cockhead brushed against his hole. My body shivered, and I must have closed my eyes because I was surprised when his lips touched mine and his arms replaced his legs around me, pulling me into him, kissing me deeply. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he purred, and he rubbed his ass against my raging fuckrod.
I pushed my crotch into him, and the angle was wrong, and my cock slipped on past his hole. He laughed. I didn’t think it was funny, and my expression showed it. Last thing I wanted the first time I fucked a guy was to be laughed at. So being the wonder of mind reading he was he stopped laughing and pulled his legs up and back and said, “There, go for it!”
I lined myself up and pushed against his hole, and he grimaced and groaned. I stopped. He didn’t like that at all. “Don’t be a pussy, jarhead, FUCK THIS ASS!”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Duke,” I said like a pathetic fifteen year old virgin.
“I’m a MAN, Billy,” he growled, “and I want you inside me, banging my lights out . . . NOW!” And with that he let his legs go to rest on my shoulders, reached around and grabbed my ass with both hands and PULLED me INTO him. “AAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH,” he howled as my huge head popped inside him. “Drive it the FUCK into me, Billy, God dammit!” he snarled, moving his ass around on me, struggling to get the other six or seven inches into him.
For my part, the feeling of being inside him was overwhelming, and suppressing the desire to cum immediately was my most difficult task. I started pounding that hot TIGHT ass of his – felt like he had my cock in a tight grip in one of his big strong hands – and couldn’t stop myself. I lost all control and felt like my hips were on auto-thrust. And the harder I pounded his ass, the louder he yelled and the tighter he clenched my cock.
His cock remained rock hard and was bobbing around, and I suddenly, after many minutes, had the urge to jack it. I grabbed my cock on the out-stroke to get some lube then grabbed his cock and pumped it hard. He threw his head back and forth and yelled obscenities – the good kind! – and started pumping his load. When he did, he CLENCHED around my cock so tight with his cunt muscles that I was pulled over the edge, too, and blasted what turned out upon inspection later to be a huge load into the condom.
When I was through blasting into him and my body was somewhat mine again, I sat back on my haunches, just about three inches of me in him, the angle pressuring the top of my cock and his hole. “JESUS CHRIST that hurts!” he said, and when I was about to pull it out, he said far more softly, “Don’t, not yet.”
I couldn’t help it. I collapsed on top of him, our sweat and his cum between us, and I felt like I never wanted to leave.
Of course I had to . . . but not that night and not the next, and I sat in the visiting team’s seats and watched him win the game Sunday with the other groupies, girlfriends and wives and friends. I became more avid in following the NFL after that, and we kept in touch off and on after that, enough to keep my fantasy of having him to come home to for a long time.
I didn’t know that when I snuck into the bathroom off the lobby and changed from my uni into my board shorts, or I might have added a jock strap to have some hope of containing my cock. Because the moment I hit the pool area and got the wide angle of beef everywhere. I’d had my share of beef over the past five years – the US Naval Academy and then stationed at Patuxent as a fairly green first lieutenant – but these guys were a sight to behold.
Maybe it was all the oiled big-muscled bodies, maybe it was just that they were Marines I was surrounded by after the three years at the Academy and then one at Quantico and now at Patuxent. Or maybe it was that they were all athletes and athletes’ bodies had always been my weakness. And today was no exception, as my big cock tented my board shorts as I stood there gazing out on the fantasy beef sex smorgasbord.
“Would you like me to get you a towel and a lounge, sir,” startled me as a pool attendant had approached me during my moment of transfixed awe. “Or anything else,” he said, with a snarky smile, looking down at my tented shorts.
OK, so he was ‘friendly’. And as I looked him up and down I thought: possible. But I more quickly brought my pack around to hold it in front of my obvious excitement. He laughed a little and handed me a big towel. “Here, this is easier,” he said, having handed over the towel partially unfolded so that it hung down in front of me when I took it.
I grinned at him. “Thanks, man.” And I took another look and decided he was way more than a possibility.
“It’s Man-NEE,” he enunciated. I showed my confusion, and he pointed to his nametag which said he was Manny, from New York City. “Manny, at your service,” he said in a clearly sexual context.
“Mmmmm,” I responded involuntarily, and then I looked back to the poolside and in-pool beef-fest. “Maybe when I’ve had some sun I’ll take you up on that, Man-NEE.”
My big smile seemed to be enough to overcome the brushoff I was giving him because he told me to follow him and took me right into the midst of one of the clumps of guys and a few girls to a lounge that appeared unoccupied. “You guys have this one saved for anyone?” Manny asked them?
One of the guys looked like he was going to say he did, and then he took a long look up and down me and seemed to change his mind. “No, go ahead and get in here with us,” he said to me. “Marine?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, proudly. “On a few days’ leave.”
Manny was laying a towel out, and I fumbled in my pack for some money to give him, but the football player grabbed up a five dollar bill from their table and said, “Here, Manny, thanks for taking care of our men OUT OF uniform,” and winked at him. Manny’s blush made me wonder if he’d “taken care of” the football player, too.
“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” I said, and I put out my hand. “Lieutenant Bill Cate,” I said.
But the football player was not looking at my hand or at my eyes. When I’d reflexively put out my hand to shake his, I’d forgotten about the space shuttle in my board shorts, and his eyes were riveted on my huge bulge, the outline of my cock clear in my worn board shorts, and his tongue was visible, making a lap around his lips.
Of course, that did nothing to slake the need in my balls, and I felt my cock jump a little with renewed excitement. The football player reacted to my cock jumping with a shiver that rocked his body.
“Jesus, Duke, at least give the Marine a chance to relax and get settled before you devour him, ya horndog faggot,” another of the football players to his right said playfully and threw a drink on him.
I had gone totally rigid – the part of my body which hadn’t already been rigid – at “faggot”, but the drink and the laughing from the guy who’d said it seemed good natured. I really didn’t know much about the world, having gone from high school to the Academy and then to posting, but I knew enough to be wary of men who threw the word ‘faggot’ around, and I wasn’t totally relaxed.
Duke snarled at the other football player, “I’ll deal with you later,” to a round of “Oooooooooo’s” from a few of the other guys, who just as quickly went back to their Walkmans or girls or friends. “Don’t mind Jake, Billy,” Duke said, licentiously using my family’s nickname for me and again going straight to my nuts and hard cock because in a way he reminded me of my HOT older stepbrother Cain. “Duke Jackson here,” he said, and this time he put his big hand out to shake.
I’d recovered the towel over my . . . problem, but I wasn’t going to be rude. So I took his hand, and we shook, both of us with firm grips . . . and electricity flying between us. Or was it just my imagination?
No, as I got some objectivity back I saw that his eyes were again riveted on my hardon. Which wasn’t all that avoidable, as he was sitting on a lounge and I was standing with my cock about at his eye level.
Our handshake lasted longer than it should have, but not long enough that when we finally parted, my entire body didn’t feel a pang of regret. I finally regained myself enough to say, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jackson.”
Duke laughed. “Mr. Jackson is my father, Billy. I’m just Duke. And how old are you, anyway?”
“I’m twenty-three, sir,” I responded, still standing, now with no reason not to cover my hardon but not having done so.
“Well, Billy, I’m only twenty-six, so let’s can the ‘sir’ or at least postpone it until we’re both undressed, he said with a leer in the direction of my crotch.
HOLY FUCK!
“As you wish, Duke,” I said, softer and a little uneasily.
I was really looking at him, and I was taking in all of him now, individually as opposed to one of the beefcake herd. He was blond and furry over a tightly muscled body, and his green eyes sparkled under the bill of his team’s cap which shaded those beautiful eyes from the sun. He had a handsome face – knee-weakingly handsome as a matter of fact. His own swimsuit was looking tight in the right place, too.
“I do wish,” he said, also quietly, and I almost fell into my lounge. “But let’s enjoy the sun for now, and I need to rinse this pina colada off me before my body hair gets all gooey.”
It was a miracle I didn’t blurt out, “Let me lick you clean.” Somehow, though, I said, “I’ll get myself settled.”
Duke gave me another once over and said he’d be back and got up from the lounge. As he passed Jake’s lounge he gave him some shit, and Jake laughed, and so did Duke. They were obviously good friends.
I spent a couple of hours in the sun until it was around four. The sun was still nice. I’d been in and out of the pool. Another miracle was that my cock had calmed down enough for me to not make a complete spectacle of myself. Of course, my worn-thin board shorts with nothing under them did a good job of highlighting my equipment when I was wet, too.
I’d horsed around with the other players, introduced to names familiar to me from spectatating, and Duke and I had talked some lounge to lounge. Nothing heavy or particularly personal, just a couple of guys talking. And nothing suggestive after he’d come back from the poolside shower, having rinsed off the cool-down drink Jake had thrown at him.
“Are you staying here?” Duke asked me out of the blue after a long stretch of quiet.
“You’re kidding, right? I crashed the pool here, and I couldn’t afford to stay here. I’ll be on my way looking for somewhere to flop or crashing on the beach later.”
“I have a room,” he said, simply, having turned to look directly at me.
“O . . . K . . . “ I said, tentatively.
“And, yes, I have one big bed,” he said, with equal seriousness.
I had two ways to go here. I had no idea if his earlier interest in my hardon had been superseded by caution or disinterest and his offer was just being a nice guy. OR, was he being low-key so as not to be obvious to his buds? Or . . . my mind was running wild with uncertainty.
I guess Duke saw it, my uncertainty, and he inadvertently solved it. “Bill, it’s an open-ended offer. You can have a place to crash because you’re a nice guy, whether we take advantage of the fact that I think you’re hot as hell or not.”
“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse, Duke,” I said, relieved.
With equal seriousness as before but softer he said, “I am betting neither one of us will be able to refuse each other.” And then he smiled, and my nuts felt an electric jolt.
“Mmmmm,” was all I could manage. My cock, on the other hand, was resurging. And my face was painted in a grin I couldn’t have wiped off it I wanted to.
* * * * * * * * * *
We were in Duke Jackson’s shower in Duke Jackson’s very nice room at the Grand Hyatt. I WAS IN THE SHOWER NAKED WITH DUKE JACKSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We were plastered together under the spray, hands everywhere, groping, grabbing, holding, and our mouths were hungrily devouring each other’s faces, necks, shoulders, chests.
I’d already had to knock his hand away from my raging fuckrod because I was so close to cumming that quick. Hell, I make no excuses for my almost-prematurity. To repeat: I WAS IN THE FUCKING SHOWER FUCKING STARK NAKED WITH MY HANDS ALL OVER DUKE JACKSON AND MY HARDON AND HIS GRINDING TOGETHER BETWEEN US AGAINST OUR ROCK HARD ABS!
He and I were roughly the same height – six four – and although he was smaller than I cock-wise, his body had about thirty-five more pounds of muscle on it, and every mound, slab, cord was tantalizing me. Between the warm water, the heat of our bodies and the gropes, grabs, bites, licks and grinds, the water should have been sizzling off us. When he went to his knees, I yelled something vaguely like “OH FUCK YEAH!” and in my mind I was thinking FUCKN A LAST YEAR’S MVP HAS YOUR COCK IN HIS MOUTH AND IS GOING TO SUCK DOWN YOUR SEED, MARINE!
He went at my raging fuckmeat with a hunger that had skyrockets going off in my nuts and threatened to cut the enjoyment of his sucking, slurping and stroking way too short. I tried to push the hotness of the moment out of my mind, but it was a losing cause. Sisyphus had an easier task than I did in that shower to suppress my building ball-blast. When he got a long finger up my hole and started massaging my prostate, I did scream “OH FUCK!” as my entire body went atomic. I don’t even remember much of it, barely coming back to consciousness when he shoved me around roughly against the shower wall.
He was on his knees and had his face in my crack, and then I felt the indescribable ecstasy of his tongue up my hole. I didn’t have time to react, to tell him I didn’t GET fucked, before he was spitting my cum up my hole, slicking it up. FUCK! He was up and behind me and had two huge fingers up my cum-slicked hole before I could even process any farther, his back against me. In my ear I heard a packet tearing. How the FUCK had he got a condom in the shower?!
It was all too hot, and my brain was overloaded with incredible sensations, so when he put his sheathed cockhead against my hole, my body reacted not my brain. I pushed back HARD onto him, crying out wildly in pain but wanting that man to plow me.
The last time I’d gotten fucked was tree years before by my oldest stepbrother’s tree-trunk cock. Duke was considerably smaller than Cain and I, but my ass felt like a telephone pole had been shoved up it. That didn’t stop me from fucking myself on his cock.
I’m sure Duke was traumatized by my banshee scream when I pushed back onto him without any prep time, and he was further taken by surprise when I started fucking myself on him. He told me afterward that he was paralyzed by fear of hurting me despite his intense desire to fuck me. He hadn’t started thrusting into me until I said over my shoulder, “A little help here?” I hadn’t remembered finding that moment of humor at that point, and when he had told me that later I thought to myself I remember that as saying “FUCK ME STUD!” HA!
Duke didn’t hesitate any longer, and he drilled my ass like he was drilling for oil. And being a terrible but also very wanton bottom, I both yelled my head off because it felt like he was banging my guts out and also met every thrust and taunted him to fuck me harder and even at one point said, “Wait ‘til it’s my turn, you NFL pussy, and then you’ll see how a Marine fucks and know what it is to be fucked by a MAN!” And I swear to God I was praising Jesus that Duke was already pounding me like his life depended on it because if he had pounded me any harder I don’t know if I could have taken it.
I was holding onto the showerhead pipe where it came out of the tile for dear life, my forearms from elbow to my hands around the pipe against the tile bracing myself as he pounded me. He was growling and moaning and sometimes yelling things like, “You know you love it; you KNOW you are made for this.” I really wasn’t, but every word inflamed my desire to feel him lose his nutload.
Finally, without warning, he yanked his cock out and with one hand roughly pulled me around to face him and with the other was ripping off the condom. When I was turned around his hand went to my huge hardon and started pumping; and when he had the condom flung off him he started jacking his own rod. His cumblast was immediate, and it hit me hard enough to feel it, arcing up enough to splat over my chest. Mine was more leveled at his groin and went off after a couple of his blasts. “OH FUCKING JESUS CHRIST!” I growled against his repeated “OH GOD!”
When he stopped cumming he leaned forward and put his forehead on my right shoulder, and we both just stood there a while. The hot water was as hot as when it started, and we panted against each other, his one hand still on my cock, which I really liked. I wrapped my arms around him and he flinched a little like he wasn’t used to that much intimacy, then he relaxed into it and I hugged him tight. “Fucking awesome, Billy.”
I just laughed and said, “I’m the one who came twice here. Seems like I owe you one; and I think I owe that compliment to you, Duke! Hell, after that, you’re the KING!” And we both laughed a little at that as we caught our breath.
I was completely surprised when Duke turned his head up and pressed his lips to mine. I’d never kissed or been kissed by a man during, before or after sex. I was surprised, but I was carried away with the moment, and as he let go of my cock and wrapped his arms around me and we held each other tight, we kissed long and deep and as intimately as I could have ever fantasized about.
I can’t even describe it, the way it felt. My entire body was aroused, yet I was also relaxed and felt safe and where I should be in his arms. I had nothing to compare it to except for one time when I was fifteen and broke my leg in six places during a school break when my oldest stepbrother Cain was home and we were all playing soccer on our vast front lawn. I’m sure I was in shock because the sight of my bones protruding from my leg in three places was worse than the pain. I was big already by the – nearly six feet – yet my brother Cain at six-three scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the house, yelling at my other stepbrother Jared to have Mom or Dad call an ambulance. When Cain put me down incredibly gently on the sofa in the family room, as everyone was in a state about what had happened, Cain sat down with me in his lap, my leg out, and held me like that telling me “That was some play, bro.” But it was the way he held me – protectively, and soothingly – until the EMTs got there that was what I remembered. I was safe, I was in the arms of a man I idolized, a man I fantasized about. And Duke’s arms around me were something a lot like that.
When we finally broke what remained the longest kiss I’d ever have for over twenty years after that, I was weak-kneed. My head was spinning, and I was pretty certain I was dead and in heaven, not just in a hotel room with a pro football star. “Wow,” I understated.
He laughed and kissed me quickly again on my lips. “Wow for sure!” Damn he was handsome, even with water running over his head and down his face. “And as to owing me one, my ass is all yours next round, you jarhead stud you.”
“That would be Lieutenant Jarhead Stud to you!” I bantered back.
“Sir, yes, SIR,” he shouted surprisingly well. Unfortunately his salute would have earned him scathing assessment by any drill sergeant. I didn’t give a crap about it though; when he’d done the salute and brought his body as close as he’d come to attention, his cock had pushed into mine again, and that was the kind of salute this Marine needed.
We both laughed, and I cuffed him lightly on his handsome chin. “I’m turning into a prune here and I’m starved.” I looked down at his re-hardening cock against mine and gave him a ‘better check that’ look. He looked down and said, “You are massive, buddy. You’re going to tear me up with that divine instrument of sexual ecstasy!”
“Your choices are me and you alone or you join me with the team. They already know you’re hanging with us, and there are plenty of others around besides us.”
“I’m assuming you are talking dinner, not fucking you,” I said, although the whole team was a spankbank fantasy which had relieved me of many cumloads.
He reached up and tossled my hair. “Funny guy!” he said, as he threw me a big fluffy towel like I distantly remembered from when I lived at home. “Seriously I’m starved, so up to you.”
“You’d really have me join the team dinner, Duke? Wouldn’t that be a little . . . “ I was at a loss for words, being a closeted marine and knowing he was a closeted pro football player. Then again out by the pool Jake didn’t seem to have any question that Duke and I were on a sexual wavelength there. I was so confused.
Duke saw my confusion. “I’m not out, but I get away with a lot of stuff because I have never been caught. I can flirt with a gay man and just get teased about it without getting branded. If I got on my knees and sucked off the entire team, half would be shocked into a coma and the other half would be saying, ‘Really funny, Duke. Damn you’ll do anything to get a rise out of people won’t you?! Crazy Duke strikes again!’”
I didn’t begin to understand, and I knew I didn’t want to be the butt of some jokes with his buds on the team either. “I’m thinking I’d like to NOT be involved in any shock value of anything you do, Duke. At the same time I know it might be odd if you slipped away with me for dinner and didn’t spend time with your buds.”
Duke put his hands on my shoulders and looked in my eyes. “Trust me when I tell you we have people join us all the time, Billy. Guys, girls, sometimes the in betweens. You’re a guy; you’re a Marine for chrissake. Nobody’s going to be thinking ‘those two are fucking up the ass’ I assure you. The guys will go crazy for a service man – we all appreciate your service. I’m a hundred thousand percent serious, Billy. I wouldn’t put you in a compromising situation.”
I trusted him, and I believed he knew his teammates better than I did. I knew I wasn’t the magic fag who’d come along and make him want to come out! “Take me to dinner, stud,” I said.
* * * * * * * * * *
We got back from dinner, and I was stumbling as we fell into Duke’s room. The guys had been awesome to me, as he said, and nobody so much as gave a hint of thinking I was anything but a groupie they’d picked up. They practically force-fed me food and tried to get me drunk too . . . and did a damn good job of both, actually.
The story that emerged was the truth . . . with a few details left out. I was a marine on leave, had crashed the pool at the nicest hotel there and not only that had nowhere to stay. Duke generously offered to let me crash with him. And the guys bought drinks for Duke for being such a generous guy to a service man.
And now we were back in Duke’s room, both drunk and already all over each other. “Good thing it’s your turn to do the fucking, jarhead, cuz I probably can’t get it up. I’m too wasted.”
I reached down and grabbed hold of his hardon through his shorts. “Ummmm, not that I’m giving up my turn at your hot ass, but there’s nothing wrong down here,” I said, giving it a good squeeze.
Before he could say anything else I’d pushed him down on the big bed and was pulling his shorts off him. He pulled the t-shirt of which had been clinging to his muscular torso and driving me crazy all night, and the sight of those mounds of muscle made a bolt of electricity shoot through me.
When I had his shorts pulled down and his flip flops off, I shoved him over on his stomach and dove tongue first into his ass. I’d NEVER done it before, but I’d had it done a couple of times and wanted to give Duke the same pleasure he’d given me and a couple of others had. “Oh, FUCK YEAH, eat that hole and get it all sloppy and ready for you, Billy,” he moaned.
And I did. I ate that sweaty hole of his and pigged out on it. The next day it felt like someone had pulled my tongue and half ripped it out of my mouth, and it was from shoving it DEEP in his tight hot musky hole. He writhed and moaned and clawed at the bed and shoved his ass back into my face, and all the while I licked, sucked, chewed and tongue fucked it and played roughly with his balls and raging cock. When he’d finally had as much as he could take apparently, he yanked open his bedside drawer and flung some condoms and a bottle of lube at me.
I worked the lube into his burning hot hole and had three fingers in him, and he was moaning like a bitch in heat and begging for my cock. For the first time I got my clothes off – careful to wipe the lube on my underwear so I didn’t get it on my clothes or the bed – and asked, “Is this how you want it, Duke? On your stomach?” as I got the condom stretched TOO TIGHT on my horsecock.
In response he flipped over, and he wrapped his legs around my chest and back and pulled me into him. His blue eyes were smoldering, and my cockhead brushed against his hole. My body shivered, and I must have closed my eyes because I was surprised when his lips touched mine and his arms replaced his legs around me, pulling me into him, kissing me deeply. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he purred, and he rubbed his ass against my raging fuckrod.
I pushed my crotch into him, and the angle was wrong, and my cock slipped on past his hole. He laughed. I didn’t think it was funny, and my expression showed it. Last thing I wanted the first time I fucked a guy was to be laughed at. So being the wonder of mind reading he was he stopped laughing and pulled his legs up and back and said, “There, go for it!”
I lined myself up and pushed against his hole, and he grimaced and groaned. I stopped. He didn’t like that at all. “Don’t be a pussy, jarhead, FUCK THIS ASS!”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Duke,” I said like a pathetic fifteen year old virgin.
“I’m a MAN, Billy,” he growled, “and I want you inside me, banging my lights out . . . NOW!” And with that he let his legs go to rest on my shoulders, reached around and grabbed my ass with both hands and PULLED me INTO him. “AAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH,” he howled as my huge head popped inside him. “Drive it the FUCK into me, Billy, God dammit!” he snarled, moving his ass around on me, struggling to get the other six or seven inches into him.
For my part, the feeling of being inside him was overwhelming, and suppressing the desire to cum immediately was my most difficult task. I started pounding that hot TIGHT ass of his – felt like he had my cock in a tight grip in one of his big strong hands – and couldn’t stop myself. I lost all control and felt like my hips were on auto-thrust. And the harder I pounded his ass, the louder he yelled and the tighter he clenched my cock.
His cock remained rock hard and was bobbing around, and I suddenly, after many minutes, had the urge to jack it. I grabbed my cock on the out-stroke to get some lube then grabbed his cock and pumped it hard. He threw his head back and forth and yelled obscenities – the good kind! – and started pumping his load. When he did, he CLENCHED around my cock so tight with his cunt muscles that I was pulled over the edge, too, and blasted what turned out upon inspection later to be a huge load into the condom.
When I was through blasting into him and my body was somewhat mine again, I sat back on my haunches, just about three inches of me in him, the angle pressuring the top of my cock and his hole. “JESUS CHRIST that hurts!” he said, and when I was about to pull it out, he said far more softly, “Don’t, not yet.”
I couldn’t help it. I collapsed on top of him, our sweat and his cum between us, and I felt like I never wanted to leave.
Of course I had to . . . but not that night and not the next, and I sat in the visiting team’s seats and watched him win the game Sunday with the other groupies, girlfriends and wives and friends. I became more avid in following the NFL after that, and we kept in touch off and on after that, enough to keep my fantasy of having him to come home to for a long time.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The Marine Settles In
I awoke hard, startled. Jim was sound asleep still. I could see by lifting my arm around him enough that it was ten-forty-one. The lawnmower was going out in the back.
Jim had been up earlier, as had I. We’d had a wild night – well, no wilder than usual, but since it was Friday night and no work today, a few more times – of sex and play. When we’d gotten up in the We as usual we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and there was more, despite our sex-hungover states. We’d finally gotten some breakfast, determined that Perry was still asleep and dead to the world, and we’d decided we’d go back for a nap. A two and a half hour nap, as it turned out.
Jim must have felt me awake because he had just pulled my hand which was over him down to his very hard cock. Without hesitation I took a grip and started stroking it, my other hand which was on the arm under his head went to his right nipple. “Mmmmmmmmm,” was my audible reward, and Jim’s ass backing into my own hardon was another reward.
I didn’t move my body other than my one hand stroking Jim’s big hard cock and my other hand working his nipple. Jim on the other hand was working his ass against my cock and had twice barely missed skewering his still-cumslick fuckhole on it. And finally he did and shoved back HARD onto me with a loud “Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” and clenched his tight cuntmuscles around me. My own growl, as my very sore cock was enveloped and then gripped went on a bit longer than his from an “Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” into “FUCKIN AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
Him pushing back onto me always made me crazy, and I started pounding that hole for real, driving in HARD and balls-deep. With strength I didn’t know I had I got my arm from under him and was up and had him on his back and his legs up and had SHOVED into him again and was slam-fucking him HARD.
“JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST!” he exclaimed. “Just fucking FUCK ME, Bill. Just fucking RUIN me!”
Such a sweet talker. Music to my thrusting hips and swinging nuts.
I did him that way, drilling him hard, both of us yelling, exclaiming, until I felt my own nuts start to pull up and knew that it wouldn’t be long before my balls would be unloading in the man of my dreams again. I moved his one leg the way I knew got his ass in a slightly different position, the one where my big horsecock not only rubs his prostate but slams into it with every thrust.
“Oh fucking Jesus YEAH,” he yelled. I pounded that way and felt his cunt muscles clench HARD around me about three seconds before my own exploded, and as I shouted and blasted another load into him, his cum sprayed his hairy chest, abs and one thick rope hit his cheek. I leaned down, both of us still shuddering, and licked the cumrope off his face with a long swipe of my tongue along his stubly jaw and cheek. “Mmmmmmmmm,” he purred and wrapped his arms tight around me and turned and kissed me deeply. We kissed each other deeply. And my cock wasn’t flagging one bit, still inside him, hot and soaked with our love juices.
We were kissing and grinding together, and he was hard as a rock between our abs, his cum-splattered fur slick between us with his load and our sweat. I started stroking my cock in and out of him clumsily in that position, and he struggled to meet my thrusts with a long, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” muffled by our now-hungry face-sucking.
I finally broke away from him, pulled out of him and shoved him roughly over on his stomach and entered him again to a loud, “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK,” from him. When I was balls-deep near the end of his yell, I felt that familiar ass-clench he does and yelled my own, “OH, GOD YES!” and went to town on his slimey hole, fucking it HARD and DEEP.
Jim fuckchute had to be as sore as my cock was, but it didn’t matter; we were going to finish this. He was shoving his ass back up into me meeting every thrust. As usual, the stench of our sex – sweat mixed with cum mixed with pheromones – was intoxicating and was stoking my fucking. I reached up roughly and grabbed the back of his head by his hair and yanked his head back to a loud “AAARRRRRGGGGHHH!” from him.
“You fucking want that fucking load, don’t you?”
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he panted.
“Come on show me you want it,” I taunted.
“FUCK ME GOD DAMMIT FUCKING GIVE IT TO ME COLONEL!”
And I did. I fucked him even harder, and he fucked back even harder, and finally I exploded in him when I felt his cunt spasming around my pounding cock, knowing he was letting another of his loads go. I fell on top of him, panting in his ear.
“God, Bill,” he said into the mattress, his torso heaving under me with his breathing.
“I can’t resist you, Jim.”
“You remember our vow, right?” he said, with a playful note to his voice through the panting.
I rolled off him and turned him sideways and pulled him to me until I was nose-to-nose with him, our eyes locked. “YOU remember what the final version was, right?”
“I do,” he said softly, his eyes smoldering the way that both makes me burn in my nuts and also makes my heart skip a beat.
I kissed him lightly and held him. “I want to go help Perry with the yard,” I said, surprising Jim.
“You what?”
I backed away enough for our eyes to meet. “I want to go out and help Perry with the yard. Then if he wants he can come to the gym with us.”
Perry, Jim’s nineteen-year-old son and younger clone, was home for summer from college. Jim gave Perry a few household responsibilities in return for his keep when he wasn’t in school. The yard was one of them. But Jim’s yard was huge – a few acres on the beach – and it was quite a job.
“It’s his JOB, Bill, as much as my firm is for me or your company is for you.”
“I get it, Jim, but that doesn’t mean that if I needed help you wouldn’t give it to me.”
Jim smiled, and his smiles melted me. “If I was a less secure – or less well-fucked – man, I’d be jealous of you and Perry,” he said, laughing.
“Oh, yeah, right. I’m really into twinks, and that day I saw you and picked you up at the picnic it wasn’t because I thought ‘that’s the finest piece of man-beef I’ve ever seen’. It was really because I could tell you had a hunky twink version of you at home and I thought, ‘if I fuck this dad hunk really good, he’ll let me move in and I can train to be super-fucker because dad-hunk will test the limits of my vlikeirility AND I can perv on the twink-hunk and work myself up to even higher levels of studhood than I already have’. There’s only one problem with it though.”
Jim was laughing, and his cummy, sweaty fur was tickling my chest as he did. “Sounds like a helluva setup to me!”
“Yeah, to the casual porn aficionado, sure it does. But to the trained observer, the flaw is obvious. Dad-hunk apparently has magic powers and has the Marine totally, completely,” I kissed him, “irrevocably under his spell.”
Jim was laughing but kissed me more and hugged me tight. “Come on, Billy, let’s go out and play!”
We showered quickly, one of the few times our shower didn’t turn to sex. It wasn’t easy for either of us, but we laughed through it and were in shorts and sneakers and outside in the muggy, already-sweltering heat ten or fifteen minutes later.
Perry was off in the distance with the big landscaper-class mower and saw us and waved. What a sight he was. Literally a younger clone of Jim, Perry was well built, hairy, tall and dark like his father. He was also in skimpy blue running shorts which were sweat soaked, and his big package – like his father’s also – bounced as he was walking behind the mower.
He saw us and waved enthusiastically, continuing his long swipe toward us with the mower. When he got even with us and saw us waiting for him he stopped. “Guess you two can finally disengage yourselves and keep your hands off each other long enough to come out of your bedroom, huh?” he said with a snarky smile.
It had been a week or two since I’d finally gotten over being mortified when he said stuff like that. He genuinely loved that his dad and I were together. In fact, he actually really liked me and showed it.
“Bill wants to help you with the yard, and then, if you want, you can hit the gym with us,” Jim said to Perry.
Perry’s eyes lit up. “For real?” he asked, looking my way.
“We both want to help you, Perry,” I said. “And yeah, if you want, you can hit the gym with us, but no obligation.”
“Dads, you ROCK!” he said enthusiastically, pumping his fist in the air.
I was no way worthy, but Perry always smiled when he lumped us together and included me in the “dads” thing, and I was working on getting used to it. It was way too soon, way too fast, but it was awesome – Jim, Perry, the whole thing – and I was going with it, going hard at it, giving it my Marine best.
We were done with the yard by about 1pm. We’d all three rinsed the sweat off ourselves in the outdoor beach/pool shower and dove into the pool to cool off. We’d horsed around together a while in the pool and then grabbed some energy bars, showered and hit the gym.
During the week I worked out at my company gym. Jim worked out at a commercial gym near his office. And Perry worked out in the gym at Jim’s country club, which is where we were.
All three of us were committed to our bodies, and I really enjoyed when Perry was with us working out on the weekend. OK, in truth, I really enjoyed when Perry was with us doing most anything. He was an awesome kid – yeah I’ve said that before! – and Jim obviously loved being around his son, and anything Jim loved made me happy.
We worked out hard, all of us doing arms/shoulders, abs and cardio. Like most nineteen year olds Perry was exceptionally lean, but his body was beautifully proportioned, and it wasn’t difficult to envision him when he was our age, a hunky muscular beefcake like his father. Perry was also verbal and aggressive like his dad and made a great spotter, taunting whichever of us as easily as he supported us. We returned the favor, and we all ended up exhausted in that incredible way you are after a great punishing workout when your body is buzzing.
We showered – and yes, Perry was hung like his father. I knew that already. I also knew that Perry was as comfortable in his skin as his father, as he casually chatted with men he knew - mostly friends of Jim's - in the lockers, both with his towel, without it, his big cock hanging proudly, and in various states of dressing. At nineteen he was one of the men, and I was proud for my lover that he had raised such a young man.
One of the hotter men in the lockers leaned in to me and said, "Like father, like son," and winked, when both Perry and Jim were naked after the showers. I was, too, and he gave me an appraising once-over as well and smiled more broadly when he met my gaze again. I'd met him and also his wife once and wondered. Being around men all my life, and always being in great shape and obviously well-hung, occasionally I'd been in situations like this where my gaydar's meter was confounded. Fortunately at this point it mattered little, as I had what I wanted, and I knew he was no threat to Jim and me. But I hoped he'd stay away from Perry!
After we were dressed we ate voraciously in the club’s coffee shop. Perry had been born to this world of rich man’s comforts, and he was comfortable with all of his dad’s friends whom we ran into. And this was Jim’s world. But I still felt like jarhead who’d accidentally fallen off a battlefield into polite society.
Perry was also comfortable saying, “You know my dad’s boyfriend, right? Colonel Cate? This is – “ I’d gotten over the brashness of his label for me, and I’d always been unbothered by the less tolerant members of society, so the ones whose reaction was less than inclusive didn’t faze me. But I was used to being less in-your-face about my sexuality than calling it out like that.
Jim and I had talked about it. He’d never brought a ‘boyfriend’ to a work function, never had him to his club, never hidden his sexuality but hadn’t had a relationship that got that far. Ours was a month old, but he said he knew from the first day that we were each other’s destined partners, and by now, a month into it, I had bought into it fully.
And there we sat, a modern family, as it were. I’d been to one of Jim’s office functions with him as his partner, and I’d been to this club several times with him. Jim’s co-workers almost universally like him, as evidenced in their friendliness to me and expressions of happiness for Jim finding me or for us finding each other. At this club, where the rich and powerful relaxed comfortably and guys like me squirmed inside while we tried to look comfortable.
“Anything else for you today, Mr. Ellis? Colonel Cate? Master Ellis?” the waiter asked, smiling at us. He was one of the better ones, one of the ones who treated me like the members. He also was gay, and maybe that’s why.
But it was nice even when it wasn’t that comfortable for me because I enjoyed being with Jim particularly. And I enjoyed being with Perry whenever we could get his attention from whatever and whoever occupied his seemingly endless energy.
A friend of Perry’s came by – one I’d met before who seemed as well-mannered as Perry – and asked him if he wanted to play tennis. Perry told him he was there with his “dads”. The friend seemed to understand nineteen-year-old speak and said he’d give him a ride home afterward, and Perry turned around to look at us, obviously wanting to do it. Jim laughed and said, “Go for it, son.” Perry knocked fists with both of us and then was gone.
We sat for a bit, looking out at the expansive lawn. “A really nice day, Bill,” Jim said to me. My heart flipped. “And Perry won’t be home for hours,” he said, wagging his eyebrows at me.
“Will you take a run on the beach with me, and when we get home let me lick the sweat off you?” I said, showing him my tongue.
“If he won’t, I will.” Our waiter’s voice behind us startled us. Jim and I both looked around at the waiter. And then we laughed.
Jim had been up earlier, as had I. We’d had a wild night – well, no wilder than usual, but since it was Friday night and no work today, a few more times – of sex and play. When we’d gotten up in the We as usual we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and there was more, despite our sex-hungover states. We’d finally gotten some breakfast, determined that Perry was still asleep and dead to the world, and we’d decided we’d go back for a nap. A two and a half hour nap, as it turned out.
Jim must have felt me awake because he had just pulled my hand which was over him down to his very hard cock. Without hesitation I took a grip and started stroking it, my other hand which was on the arm under his head went to his right nipple. “Mmmmmmmmm,” was my audible reward, and Jim’s ass backing into my own hardon was another reward.
I didn’t move my body other than my one hand stroking Jim’s big hard cock and my other hand working his nipple. Jim on the other hand was working his ass against my cock and had twice barely missed skewering his still-cumslick fuckhole on it. And finally he did and shoved back HARD onto me with a loud “Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” and clenched his tight cuntmuscles around me. My own growl, as my very sore cock was enveloped and then gripped went on a bit longer than his from an “Aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” into “FUCKIN AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”
Him pushing back onto me always made me crazy, and I started pounding that hole for real, driving in HARD and balls-deep. With strength I didn’t know I had I got my arm from under him and was up and had him on his back and his legs up and had SHOVED into him again and was slam-fucking him HARD.
“JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST!” he exclaimed. “Just fucking FUCK ME, Bill. Just fucking RUIN me!”
Such a sweet talker. Music to my thrusting hips and swinging nuts.
I did him that way, drilling him hard, both of us yelling, exclaiming, until I felt my own nuts start to pull up and knew that it wouldn’t be long before my balls would be unloading in the man of my dreams again. I moved his one leg the way I knew got his ass in a slightly different position, the one where my big horsecock not only rubs his prostate but slams into it with every thrust.
“Oh fucking Jesus YEAH,” he yelled. I pounded that way and felt his cunt muscles clench HARD around me about three seconds before my own exploded, and as I shouted and blasted another load into him, his cum sprayed his hairy chest, abs and one thick rope hit his cheek. I leaned down, both of us still shuddering, and licked the cumrope off his face with a long swipe of my tongue along his stubly jaw and cheek. “Mmmmmmmmm,” he purred and wrapped his arms tight around me and turned and kissed me deeply. We kissed each other deeply. And my cock wasn’t flagging one bit, still inside him, hot and soaked with our love juices.
We were kissing and grinding together, and he was hard as a rock between our abs, his cum-splattered fur slick between us with his load and our sweat. I started stroking my cock in and out of him clumsily in that position, and he struggled to meet my thrusts with a long, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” muffled by our now-hungry face-sucking.
I finally broke away from him, pulled out of him and shoved him roughly over on his stomach and entered him again to a loud, “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK,” from him. When I was balls-deep near the end of his yell, I felt that familiar ass-clench he does and yelled my own, “OH, GOD YES!” and went to town on his slimey hole, fucking it HARD and DEEP.
Jim fuckchute had to be as sore as my cock was, but it didn’t matter; we were going to finish this. He was shoving his ass back up into me meeting every thrust. As usual, the stench of our sex – sweat mixed with cum mixed with pheromones – was intoxicating and was stoking my fucking. I reached up roughly and grabbed the back of his head by his hair and yanked his head back to a loud “AAARRRRRGGGGHHH!” from him.
“You fucking want that fucking load, don’t you?”
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he panted.
“Come on show me you want it,” I taunted.
“FUCK ME GOD DAMMIT FUCKING GIVE IT TO ME COLONEL!”
And I did. I fucked him even harder, and he fucked back even harder, and finally I exploded in him when I felt his cunt spasming around my pounding cock, knowing he was letting another of his loads go. I fell on top of him, panting in his ear.
“God, Bill,” he said into the mattress, his torso heaving under me with his breathing.
“I can’t resist you, Jim.”
“You remember our vow, right?” he said, with a playful note to his voice through the panting.
I rolled off him and turned him sideways and pulled him to me until I was nose-to-nose with him, our eyes locked. “YOU remember what the final version was, right?”
“I do,” he said softly, his eyes smoldering the way that both makes me burn in my nuts and also makes my heart skip a beat.
I kissed him lightly and held him. “I want to go help Perry with the yard,” I said, surprising Jim.
“You what?”
I backed away enough for our eyes to meet. “I want to go out and help Perry with the yard. Then if he wants he can come to the gym with us.”
Perry, Jim’s nineteen-year-old son and younger clone, was home for summer from college. Jim gave Perry a few household responsibilities in return for his keep when he wasn’t in school. The yard was one of them. But Jim’s yard was huge – a few acres on the beach – and it was quite a job.
“It’s his JOB, Bill, as much as my firm is for me or your company is for you.”
“I get it, Jim, but that doesn’t mean that if I needed help you wouldn’t give it to me.”
Jim smiled, and his smiles melted me. “If I was a less secure – or less well-fucked – man, I’d be jealous of you and Perry,” he said, laughing.
“Oh, yeah, right. I’m really into twinks, and that day I saw you and picked you up at the picnic it wasn’t because I thought ‘that’s the finest piece of man-beef I’ve ever seen’. It was really because I could tell you had a hunky twink version of you at home and I thought, ‘if I fuck this dad hunk really good, he’ll let me move in and I can train to be super-fucker because dad-hunk will test the limits of my vlikeirility AND I can perv on the twink-hunk and work myself up to even higher levels of studhood than I already have’. There’s only one problem with it though.”
Jim was laughing, and his cummy, sweaty fur was tickling my chest as he did. “Sounds like a helluva setup to me!”
“Yeah, to the casual porn aficionado, sure it does. But to the trained observer, the flaw is obvious. Dad-hunk apparently has magic powers and has the Marine totally, completely,” I kissed him, “irrevocably under his spell.”
Jim was laughing but kissed me more and hugged me tight. “Come on, Billy, let’s go out and play!”
We showered quickly, one of the few times our shower didn’t turn to sex. It wasn’t easy for either of us, but we laughed through it and were in shorts and sneakers and outside in the muggy, already-sweltering heat ten or fifteen minutes later.
Perry was off in the distance with the big landscaper-class mower and saw us and waved. What a sight he was. Literally a younger clone of Jim, Perry was well built, hairy, tall and dark like his father. He was also in skimpy blue running shorts which were sweat soaked, and his big package – like his father’s also – bounced as he was walking behind the mower.
He saw us and waved enthusiastically, continuing his long swipe toward us with the mower. When he got even with us and saw us waiting for him he stopped. “Guess you two can finally disengage yourselves and keep your hands off each other long enough to come out of your bedroom, huh?” he said with a snarky smile.
It had been a week or two since I’d finally gotten over being mortified when he said stuff like that. He genuinely loved that his dad and I were together. In fact, he actually really liked me and showed it.
“Bill wants to help you with the yard, and then, if you want, you can hit the gym with us,” Jim said to Perry.
Perry’s eyes lit up. “For real?” he asked, looking my way.
“We both want to help you, Perry,” I said. “And yeah, if you want, you can hit the gym with us, but no obligation.”
“Dads, you ROCK!” he said enthusiastically, pumping his fist in the air.
I was no way worthy, but Perry always smiled when he lumped us together and included me in the “dads” thing, and I was working on getting used to it. It was way too soon, way too fast, but it was awesome – Jim, Perry, the whole thing – and I was going with it, going hard at it, giving it my Marine best.
We were done with the yard by about 1pm. We’d all three rinsed the sweat off ourselves in the outdoor beach/pool shower and dove into the pool to cool off. We’d horsed around together a while in the pool and then grabbed some energy bars, showered and hit the gym.
During the week I worked out at my company gym. Jim worked out at a commercial gym near his office. And Perry worked out in the gym at Jim’s country club, which is where we were.
All three of us were committed to our bodies, and I really enjoyed when Perry was with us working out on the weekend. OK, in truth, I really enjoyed when Perry was with us doing most anything. He was an awesome kid – yeah I’ve said that before! – and Jim obviously loved being around his son, and anything Jim loved made me happy.
We worked out hard, all of us doing arms/shoulders, abs and cardio. Like most nineteen year olds Perry was exceptionally lean, but his body was beautifully proportioned, and it wasn’t difficult to envision him when he was our age, a hunky muscular beefcake like his father. Perry was also verbal and aggressive like his dad and made a great spotter, taunting whichever of us as easily as he supported us. We returned the favor, and we all ended up exhausted in that incredible way you are after a great punishing workout when your body is buzzing.
We showered – and yes, Perry was hung like his father. I knew that already. I also knew that Perry was as comfortable in his skin as his father, as he casually chatted with men he knew - mostly friends of Jim's - in the lockers, both with his towel, without it, his big cock hanging proudly, and in various states of dressing. At nineteen he was one of the men, and I was proud for my lover that he had raised such a young man.
One of the hotter men in the lockers leaned in to me and said, "Like father, like son," and winked, when both Perry and Jim were naked after the showers. I was, too, and he gave me an appraising once-over as well and smiled more broadly when he met my gaze again. I'd met him and also his wife once and wondered. Being around men all my life, and always being in great shape and obviously well-hung, occasionally I'd been in situations like this where my gaydar's meter was confounded. Fortunately at this point it mattered little, as I had what I wanted, and I knew he was no threat to Jim and me. But I hoped he'd stay away from Perry!
After we were dressed we ate voraciously in the club’s coffee shop. Perry had been born to this world of rich man’s comforts, and he was comfortable with all of his dad’s friends whom we ran into. And this was Jim’s world. But I still felt like jarhead who’d accidentally fallen off a battlefield into polite society.
Perry was also comfortable saying, “You know my dad’s boyfriend, right? Colonel Cate? This is – “ I’d gotten over the brashness of his label for me, and I’d always been unbothered by the less tolerant members of society, so the ones whose reaction was less than inclusive didn’t faze me. But I was used to being less in-your-face about my sexuality than calling it out like that.
Jim and I had talked about it. He’d never brought a ‘boyfriend’ to a work function, never had him to his club, never hidden his sexuality but hadn’t had a relationship that got that far. Ours was a month old, but he said he knew from the first day that we were each other’s destined partners, and by now, a month into it, I had bought into it fully.
And there we sat, a modern family, as it were. I’d been to one of Jim’s office functions with him as his partner, and I’d been to this club several times with him. Jim’s co-workers almost universally like him, as evidenced in their friendliness to me and expressions of happiness for Jim finding me or for us finding each other. At this club, where the rich and powerful relaxed comfortably and guys like me squirmed inside while we tried to look comfortable.
“Anything else for you today, Mr. Ellis? Colonel Cate? Master Ellis?” the waiter asked, smiling at us. He was one of the better ones, one of the ones who treated me like the members. He also was gay, and maybe that’s why.
But it was nice even when it wasn’t that comfortable for me because I enjoyed being with Jim particularly. And I enjoyed being with Perry whenever we could get his attention from whatever and whoever occupied his seemingly endless energy.
A friend of Perry’s came by – one I’d met before who seemed as well-mannered as Perry – and asked him if he wanted to play tennis. Perry told him he was there with his “dads”. The friend seemed to understand nineteen-year-old speak and said he’d give him a ride home afterward, and Perry turned around to look at us, obviously wanting to do it. Jim laughed and said, “Go for it, son.” Perry knocked fists with both of us and then was gone.
We sat for a bit, looking out at the expansive lawn. “A really nice day, Bill,” Jim said to me. My heart flipped. “And Perry won’t be home for hours,” he said, wagging his eyebrows at me.
“Will you take a run on the beach with me, and when we get home let me lick the sweat off you?” I said, showing him my tongue.
“If he won’t, I will.” Our waiter’s voice behind us startled us. Jim and I both looked around at the waiter. And then we laughed.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Dinner and a Week
Dinner. A guy I had worked with a lot when he worked for one of our civilian mega-contractors as their liaison officer. Cameron Bennett. It had been a few years. Should I go? After all, it’s not like we’d kept in touch when he left the company. I think once I actually told him, when someone saw him when we were out for dinner and called him “CB” that it sounded like an old movie studio executive. And now out of the blue a call saying he was back in DC for work, and did I want to have dinner, his treat, I pick the place.
I had a game after work, so dinner would be around 9. IF I go. Should I go? Latish dinner with a guy I’d had many business dinners with when I was responsible for the change order management on a multi-billion dollar contract my employer, the United States Marine Corps had with his company. Obviously keeping the client happy, me just one of several officers he schmoozed in the Corps and one of many many many clients he schmoozed in other branches and private companies. I wonder seriously if he’s ever had dinner or lunch or even breakfast that wasn’t with business acquaintances.
Then again, I couldn’t remember anything unpleasant about him. He was easy to talk to. Nothing intrusive, pretty up on all sports or at least the ones I cared about and the teams I cared about. He’d taken me to a couple of games, too. Maybe I sorta owed him him . . . kinda.
I replied to his email, told him it would have to be around 9 because of my game, suggested Annie’s because it was close to the gym where I would be playing basketball.
* * * * * * * * * * *
We’d played hard, had started late, and when we finally all chest-bumped (us, the winners) and hugged, patted, shook and various and sundry other forms of farewells were over, suddenly I remembered that I hadn’t even checked my email to see if Bennett had replied. My iPhone confirmed, to my horror, that Bennett would be at Annie’s at nine . . . and was looking forward to it. It was about three minutes to nine. I had no cell phone number for him. SHIT!
I called Annie’s and asked if they could find him and get him to the phone. It was almost five after when they picked up the phone and said he was coming. I was still standing there, sweating. I could have showered in that time.
“Cam Bennett.”
“Hey, Bennett, sorry, man, my game ran long. Just got finished.”
“Hey, buddy, no sweat,” he said. Same upbeat, energetic, deep voice. Familiar.
“Actually, plenty of sweat right at the moment,” I said. “I need to grab a shower and then get over there.”
“Forget the shower and get over here man. This place looks great, I’ve never been here before and I’m starving.”
“Seriously, Bennett,” I started.
“C’mon, Major Cate, it’s no biggie. Seriously, I’m starved, and I’ve been looking forward to it. I’ll sit up-wind,” he said, with a laugh.
Actually, I’d worked through lunch with just an energy bar, and I was starving, too, now that I thought about it. My blood sugar was definitely low. “OK, man, be there in about ten.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
I rushed the blocks to Annie’s, which just worked up my sweat all over again. I’d rushed to change into the uni I’d been wearing but hadn’t showered. I sort of burst into the restaurant and quickly scanned the bar. I figured he’d taken a table, and I scanned the booths along the bar and turned to scan the tables up front. Just as I had made a long pass with my eyes and was about to turn around toward the back again, I felt a strong hand clamp on my shoulder and Bennett body-checked me into a kind of bro hug from behind. His voice was by my ear when he said, “Glad you made it,” which felt a little strange, but what really struck me is I could swear he had deeply inhaled before he spoke.
I turned toward him and was dumbstruck. The Cameron Bennett I’d worked with was out of shape pudgy, always in less expensive and unbecoming suits and had messy hair. But I was looking at a buffed dressed-to-kill version now. “Wow,” I said, and that was about as articulate as I could get.
“Yeah,” he said, with a big grin, “I’ve overhauled myself.”
“Wow,” I said again.
“I hope that’s a good wow,” he said with an even bigger grin.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. All of him. His body was amazing under a beautifully tailored shirt and pants which displayed his package in a way that made my knees weak. Almost as weak as when I looked at his unbelievably handsome face. I’d never noticed.
“Mr. Bennett?” A voice intruded into my enjoyment of him. “Are you and your guest ready to be seated now?”
“Major Cate – oh wow, I hadn’t even noticed you’re a light colonel now. Congratulations!!!” he said, with more enthusiasm than I’d taken my latest promotion in rank.
“Thanks.” That I could react to. And it sort of snapped my into reality – something about the Corps re-enveloping my reality at the mention of my rank. “And let’s go ahead and take a table. I’m ravenous, too.”
“Hmmmmmmm,” he said, a little wistfully.
I turned to the host and told him we’d like to be seated. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Thanks for the assist, Colonel Cate,” Bennett said, the grin back. And quite appealing, as a matter of fact.
Our eyes were locked, and I seemed to be smiling myself. Damn, those beautiful green eyes.
“Gentlemen?”
Clearly the moment had lasted.
We had eaten some bread, and had some sparkling water, and the conversation had been incredible For the first time Cam – and yeah I was calling him Cam, not Bennett, and he was calling me Bill – and I were talking about each other, not about our jobs. Without warning, Cam reaches across and touches my hand. “What I’m hungry for isn’t on the menu, Bill,” he said, his eyes smoldering.
WOW. “Where are you staying?” I asked, as I took the napkin from my leg and folded it neatly and put it on the table.
“If you’re asking that for any other reason than determining where we can get naked the fastest, I’m going to be really disappointed. I’m at the Jefferson.”
I laughed. We were almost exactly the same distance from the restaurant, his hotel and my apartment. “I’ve always wanted to have sex in a hotel,” I said, grabbing my backpack.
When we got outside the restaurant, Cam put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me and moved in for a very light kiss which went red hot instantly. WOW didn’t begin to describe it. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time we met, Bill,” he said, very seriously, almost reverently. I pulled him in again, and we had a long, scorching one, and we were grinding our hard cocks together before we broke apart.
“The Jefferson. NOW!” I said in command voice and started to break away from him.
“A favor?” he said, still holding me.
“Ask me.”
“Let’s run to the hotel,” he said, grinning again.
We did. The six blocks passed in a blur. Neither of us was dressed for a run, but I don’t think either of us noticed. We didn’t stop as we went by the doorman and kept running to the elevators and ran into an open elevator. Cam punched his floor button impatiently, and as the elevator finally – it seemed like it had taken forever – started to close, we were instantly on each other again. l
If the hotel security was manning the monitors, they were getting a helluva show from the feed in the elevator we were in! We were all over each other, sucking face, grinding, groping. And if they had audio, they’d hear the grunts, growls, groans, moans, sighs, panting and exclamations that evidenced our hunger for each other. In fact, when the elevator stopped and the doors opened, we barely noticed. When the doors started to close again, Cam held me tightly and kicked his leg up and down into the opening to make the doors open again. “Can’t wait to see both legs in the air!” I growled.
We both laughed and went to his room. The second the door lock went and he’d unlatched the door, I grabbed him from behind and shoved him into the room and up against a wall face-first. I bit and kissed his neck and chewed on his ear, grabbing and groping his ass globes through his perfectly fitting pants as I ground my hardon into his crack. “Oh, Jesus, Bill. FUCK ME!”
I reached around and fumbled with his belt and pants and yanked them down, probably breaking the zipper as I did. I had my own pants off lightning fast, and had my drooling cockhead in his crack, rubbing and pressing. “I don’t have anything—“ I started.
“Just FUCK ME NOW!” he yelled back at me.
I pulled back enough to spit on my cock, rubbed in and my precum around my head and SHOVED it into him. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” To that I gave another shove and felt my big cock stretch and chafe along his chute as I shoved mercilessly. “He rewarded me with another loud shout as well as a firm push back into me. He braced himself against the wall better, pushing his ass out farther, and I started slam pumping him.
It was too tight and too dry, and I worried that my cock would end up ripped and burned. And at the same time I didn’t care. I was pounding into him, my own body suffering the pain of the skin on my cock feeling like it was ripping with each stroke, biting the back of his neck HARD, my yells muffled into his skin as I was DRILLING him. His yells were neither muffled nor unintelligible. “OH FUCKING HELL FUCK MY FUCKING HOLE!” “YEAH FUCK USE THAT ASS!” “HARDER DAMMIT. Use that CUNT as hard as you need to, FUCKER!” and many more exclamations, cries and orders.
Our sweat was pungent in the air. I smelled more like a goat than a man, having played HARD before and no shower, then running the six blocks to the hotel. My sweat from fucking just added the third layer of excitement to the visual and tactile excitement. I inhaled both of us, him already sweating too, and drove his ass HARDER just because my hips were totally out of control, fueled by my need to breed his ass.
“GEEEZUS FUCK, I’M cuuuAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!” resounded in the room as Cam started bucking, his whole body in wracking spams. “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK!” followed on, and I felt his ass spasm around my cock so tight that if my cock hadn’t been as hard as a light pole, I think his clenched muscle would have crushed it.
Cam’s yells continued as he emptied his balls’ seedload all over the wall and floor, and my own explosion was right behind his. His yells turned intelligible, and obviously he could feel my cock about to blast my seed deep into his guts. “Fuck YEAH Bill fucking FLOOD me! C’mon FUCK IT INTO ME!”
And I did, grabbing his shoulders so tight to ram my cock into him even harder and deeper than I had, grinding into him trying to get my whole groin up his fuckhole. It was only my grip on his shoulders that kept me standing as my knees started to buckle, and I went to pull my cock out of him – we hadn’t taken the time for condoms – but he reached back and grabbed my butt and PULLED me against him, his head slamming against the wall hard when he let go. I was beyond any control by that point, the last bit of it was my last ditch reflex to pull out. As I literally screamed/growled as my balls began to blast my seed and flood his cunt, the liquid heat around my cock of my own cum sent another electric bolt through my whole body.
I had him crushed against the wall slumped over him panting. His hands were still clenched around my ass cheeks holding me tight inside him. I lifted my head and felt like I was drunk or high. I’d never cum like that before in my life. “Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed breathily.
“Yeah,” Cam said under me, panting as hard as I was.
I started to try to pull out of him, but his grip was tight on me, and he leaned his head back and rubbed the side of his face against mine. “I’ve wanted this since the first day I met you, and now I don’t want to let you go,” he said.
I surprised myself and kissed his face gently and said, genuinely, “Thank you, that’s very nice.” I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him up as I regained my control of my legs and stood tall again. I kissed his neck again, too, holding him that way, our bodies pressed together, my cock still in him.
We stood there for a bit, and at length Cam said, “If you want to, I won’t stop you.”
I laughed at that. “Seems like we’ve passed far beyond you stopping me if you’d been going to!”
He chucked but didn’t really laugh. “I meant, if you want to go now, I understand.”
Ahh, now I got it. That sensitive bottom thing. “Cam,” I started.
“Really, Bill, we can file this under the category of ‘we’ll always have DC instead of Paris’ and move on if that works for you.
“Cam,” I said softly against his ear, “The only place I want to go right now is to the bathroom to empty my bladder.”
Cam moaned and disengaged from me so fast I almost didn’t know what was happening, and he was on his knees and sucking my slimy half hard cock into his mouth greedily. He looked up at me, as I looked down at him, and it was obvious what he wanted. I hadn’t done it many times, but hell, he wanted it, and I did have to piss, and before I knew it I was letting my stream flow, and he was moaning and sucking down every drop. He gulped and choked a few times, but he never missed a drop. And I’d drank a ton of water – a liter bottle when I left the gym on the way to the restaurant and probably the same amount as we drank water and ate bread at our aborted dinner.
Cam talked around my cock still in his mouth. “This is my fantasy come true, Bill.”
He closed his mouth around my cock and started playing with my balls and sucking me. My cock responded immediately, and I was steel hard again and ready to go. Or at least my cock was. “Whoa, buddy,” I said, pushing him – with incredible difficulty as he wouldn’t let go without a fight – off my cock and shoving him back on his butt on the floor. “Can we take a minute here? Cam looked disappointed. I put my hand down to him and said, “Come on, Cam, get up here!”
Cam took my big hand in his, strong grip, strong pull up. Hot. He was still looking disappointed and a bit hesitant. “Here’s what’s going to happen. That is, if you want it. First you’re going to go into the bathroom and brush your teeth and gargle. I’ve got some mouthwash in my backpack if you don’t have any.”
“OK,” he said tentatively, and started to turn to head to the bathroom. I reached out and grabbed his muscular arm. HOT! “What?”
“And after you’ve done that, you’re going to take off all your clothes.”
Cam’s face brightened a bit. “Sir, yes, SIR!”
“And then, when you come out of the bathroom – stark naked – you’ll find me also stark naked on that beautiful big bed in the other room there.” A low rumble came from him, and his eyes smoldered again, his face now full of want and need. “And then we’re going to make up for some lost time. That is, if you’re up for it.”
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” was all he said, but his cock had gone from hanging limp to jutting proudly just like that.
“I really, REALLY want to kiss you, but no way I’m kissing my piss in your mouth. And I’m not used to not being able to do what I want, at least by the time I’m in a HOT man’s hotel suite. Which, by the way, I hope you don’t have a client paying for because this has got to be hugely expensive.”
Cam gulped, obviously trying to compose himself. “I—“
“Cam . . . gargle . . . I can’t wait much longer here!”
He turned and headed to the bathroom, adroitly pulling his pants up as he turned and calling over his shoulder, “Sir, yes, SIR!” as he went through to the bedroom and disappeared.
* * * * * * * * * *
The next morning every muscle in my body ached from exertion. But the muscles that ached the best were my arm muscles, tightly wrapped around Cam, who was still asleep, snoring lightly. It was light out, but just barely. I enjoyed the feeling of him in my arms as well as the thought of all of our sexploits in that room over the past seven hours or so.
We had gotten a few basics out of the way after he’d gargled. We’d kissed, groped, ground into each other and, ultimately sucked each other and unloaded again. Then we had a brief time to talk before we started up again. He was just in town for the night. This was just sex . . . satisfaction of a fantasy he’d had for years which I never knew about because we were both too professional – and distant – to indulge carnal urges. So I wasn’t – hadn’t – fucking and going, but then again, this was what it was.
We didn’t get much sleep. And in exchange we were both so sore that the last time we had fucked he cried out with pain when I entered him and I cried out in pain because my cock was so raw. But in the next few moments we’d gotten back to rutting like animals in heat and got it DONE, again with a post-execution assessment that it was, again, amazing.
“You’re awake,” came sleepily from Cam.
I kissed his neck and hugged him a bit tighter, inhaling him, his sex-filthy scent, our scent. “I am, and we’ve got to accept that the magic bubble has burst and it’s morning.”
“Mmmmmmmmmmm!” was all he said, and he snuggled back into me tighter. I renewed my hug.
I was starved, and he had to be starved. I basically hadn’t eaten in 22 hours, and I knew at least he’d skipped dinner. I really needed to get up, get going, get something to eat, get to work . . .
I awoke again two hours later, surprised that I’d been asleep. “Yeah, you went out again, Bill,” Cam said, obviously awake. “Sad to say, man of my dreams, but I need to get up and get going. And so do you.”
And that’s the way it ended. Me grabbing my grubby, wrinkled clothes, kissing goodbye, morning breathe and all, grabbing four muffins and a coffee in the lobby to wolf down when I got in the cab. There was only one muffin and a part of a second one by the time I got to the bellman to get the cab, and those were gone in the moment it took for the cab to pull up. I had another bottle of water in my backpack and realized I was as dehydrated as I’d been starved. But those were just reflexive actions. As the cab headed out to take me to my apartment only ten or twelve blocks away but too far to walk that morning with my sore cock chafing with every step, my mind, my memory was what was working.
By the time I got to my apartment after the short drive, my cock was raging again, as I thought of Cam and me and all we’d done. I could still smell him on my upper lip with every inhaled breath. My cock was tenting my uni pants and making it uncomfortable to even walk, but I managed to, holding my pack in front of me as if I was looking for something in it as I walked. I got to my apartment and walked in and threw my pack down and called for the number to the Jefferson. When I was connected and he picked up in his room, I again surprised myself with my action. “If you’re as tired as I am, then today needs to be a sick day. And sadly as sore as I am and I know you’re the same—“
“More,” he interrupted.
“OK, you’re more sore. I’ll take that as a compliment, being the pig top I am—“
“No, you dumbass, more of YOU. I WANT more of YOU.”
I was momentarily breathless. “Come here. My bed’s more comfortable, my shower’s bigger and I have blackout drapes.”
Cam and I did something I knew I’d never done before, and he said he hadn’t either. We played hookie the rest of the week and through the weekend. We slept, we fucked, we ate, we worked out, we ENJOYED ourselves and each other.
And then, like the responsible adults we really were, we resumed our regularly scheduled lives on Monday. And after a few weeks the calls became fewer, the emails shorter . . . and the memory sweeter.
I had a game after work, so dinner would be around 9. IF I go. Should I go? Latish dinner with a guy I’d had many business dinners with when I was responsible for the change order management on a multi-billion dollar contract my employer, the United States Marine Corps had with his company. Obviously keeping the client happy, me just one of several officers he schmoozed in the Corps and one of many many many clients he schmoozed in other branches and private companies. I wonder seriously if he’s ever had dinner or lunch or even breakfast that wasn’t with business acquaintances.
Then again, I couldn’t remember anything unpleasant about him. He was easy to talk to. Nothing intrusive, pretty up on all sports or at least the ones I cared about and the teams I cared about. He’d taken me to a couple of games, too. Maybe I sorta owed him him . . . kinda.
I replied to his email, told him it would have to be around 9 because of my game, suggested Annie’s because it was close to the gym where I would be playing basketball.
* * * * * * * * * * *
We’d played hard, had started late, and when we finally all chest-bumped (us, the winners) and hugged, patted, shook and various and sundry other forms of farewells were over, suddenly I remembered that I hadn’t even checked my email to see if Bennett had replied. My iPhone confirmed, to my horror, that Bennett would be at Annie’s at nine . . . and was looking forward to it. It was about three minutes to nine. I had no cell phone number for him. SHIT!
I called Annie’s and asked if they could find him and get him to the phone. It was almost five after when they picked up the phone and said he was coming. I was still standing there, sweating. I could have showered in that time.
“Cam Bennett.”
“Hey, Bennett, sorry, man, my game ran long. Just got finished.”
“Hey, buddy, no sweat,” he said. Same upbeat, energetic, deep voice. Familiar.
“Actually, plenty of sweat right at the moment,” I said. “I need to grab a shower and then get over there.”
“Forget the shower and get over here man. This place looks great, I’ve never been here before and I’m starving.”
“Seriously, Bennett,” I started.
“C’mon, Major Cate, it’s no biggie. Seriously, I’m starved, and I’ve been looking forward to it. I’ll sit up-wind,” he said, with a laugh.
Actually, I’d worked through lunch with just an energy bar, and I was starving, too, now that I thought about it. My blood sugar was definitely low. “OK, man, be there in about ten.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
I rushed the blocks to Annie’s, which just worked up my sweat all over again. I’d rushed to change into the uni I’d been wearing but hadn’t showered. I sort of burst into the restaurant and quickly scanned the bar. I figured he’d taken a table, and I scanned the booths along the bar and turned to scan the tables up front. Just as I had made a long pass with my eyes and was about to turn around toward the back again, I felt a strong hand clamp on my shoulder and Bennett body-checked me into a kind of bro hug from behind. His voice was by my ear when he said, “Glad you made it,” which felt a little strange, but what really struck me is I could swear he had deeply inhaled before he spoke.
I turned toward him and was dumbstruck. The Cameron Bennett I’d worked with was out of shape pudgy, always in less expensive and unbecoming suits and had messy hair. But I was looking at a buffed dressed-to-kill version now. “Wow,” I said, and that was about as articulate as I could get.
“Yeah,” he said, with a big grin, “I’ve overhauled myself.”
“Wow,” I said again.
“I hope that’s a good wow,” he said with an even bigger grin.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. All of him. His body was amazing under a beautifully tailored shirt and pants which displayed his package in a way that made my knees weak. Almost as weak as when I looked at his unbelievably handsome face. I’d never noticed.
“Mr. Bennett?” A voice intruded into my enjoyment of him. “Are you and your guest ready to be seated now?”
“Major Cate – oh wow, I hadn’t even noticed you’re a light colonel now. Congratulations!!!” he said, with more enthusiasm than I’d taken my latest promotion in rank.
“Thanks.” That I could react to. And it sort of snapped my into reality – something about the Corps re-enveloping my reality at the mention of my rank. “And let’s go ahead and take a table. I’m ravenous, too.”
“Hmmmmmmm,” he said, a little wistfully.
I turned to the host and told him we’d like to be seated. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Thanks for the assist, Colonel Cate,” Bennett said, the grin back. And quite appealing, as a matter of fact.
Our eyes were locked, and I seemed to be smiling myself. Damn, those beautiful green eyes.
“Gentlemen?”
Clearly the moment had lasted.
We had eaten some bread, and had some sparkling water, and the conversation had been incredible For the first time Cam – and yeah I was calling him Cam, not Bennett, and he was calling me Bill – and I were talking about each other, not about our jobs. Without warning, Cam reaches across and touches my hand. “What I’m hungry for isn’t on the menu, Bill,” he said, his eyes smoldering.
WOW. “Where are you staying?” I asked, as I took the napkin from my leg and folded it neatly and put it on the table.
“If you’re asking that for any other reason than determining where we can get naked the fastest, I’m going to be really disappointed. I’m at the Jefferson.”
I laughed. We were almost exactly the same distance from the restaurant, his hotel and my apartment. “I’ve always wanted to have sex in a hotel,” I said, grabbing my backpack.
When we got outside the restaurant, Cam put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me and moved in for a very light kiss which went red hot instantly. WOW didn’t begin to describe it. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time we met, Bill,” he said, very seriously, almost reverently. I pulled him in again, and we had a long, scorching one, and we were grinding our hard cocks together before we broke apart.
“The Jefferson. NOW!” I said in command voice and started to break away from him.
“A favor?” he said, still holding me.
“Ask me.”
“Let’s run to the hotel,” he said, grinning again.
We did. The six blocks passed in a blur. Neither of us was dressed for a run, but I don’t think either of us noticed. We didn’t stop as we went by the doorman and kept running to the elevators and ran into an open elevator. Cam punched his floor button impatiently, and as the elevator finally – it seemed like it had taken forever – started to close, we were instantly on each other again. l
If the hotel security was manning the monitors, they were getting a helluva show from the feed in the elevator we were in! We were all over each other, sucking face, grinding, groping. And if they had audio, they’d hear the grunts, growls, groans, moans, sighs, panting and exclamations that evidenced our hunger for each other. In fact, when the elevator stopped and the doors opened, we barely noticed. When the doors started to close again, Cam held me tightly and kicked his leg up and down into the opening to make the doors open again. “Can’t wait to see both legs in the air!” I growled.
We both laughed and went to his room. The second the door lock went and he’d unlatched the door, I grabbed him from behind and shoved him into the room and up against a wall face-first. I bit and kissed his neck and chewed on his ear, grabbing and groping his ass globes through his perfectly fitting pants as I ground my hardon into his crack. “Oh, Jesus, Bill. FUCK ME!”
I reached around and fumbled with his belt and pants and yanked them down, probably breaking the zipper as I did. I had my own pants off lightning fast, and had my drooling cockhead in his crack, rubbing and pressing. “I don’t have anything—“ I started.
“Just FUCK ME NOW!” he yelled back at me.
I pulled back enough to spit on my cock, rubbed in and my precum around my head and SHOVED it into him. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” To that I gave another shove and felt my big cock stretch and chafe along his chute as I shoved mercilessly. “He rewarded me with another loud shout as well as a firm push back into me. He braced himself against the wall better, pushing his ass out farther, and I started slam pumping him.
It was too tight and too dry, and I worried that my cock would end up ripped and burned. And at the same time I didn’t care. I was pounding into him, my own body suffering the pain of the skin on my cock feeling like it was ripping with each stroke, biting the back of his neck HARD, my yells muffled into his skin as I was DRILLING him. His yells were neither muffled nor unintelligible. “OH FUCKING HELL FUCK MY FUCKING HOLE!” “YEAH FUCK USE THAT ASS!” “HARDER DAMMIT. Use that CUNT as hard as you need to, FUCKER!” and many more exclamations, cries and orders.
Our sweat was pungent in the air. I smelled more like a goat than a man, having played HARD before and no shower, then running the six blocks to the hotel. My sweat from fucking just added the third layer of excitement to the visual and tactile excitement. I inhaled both of us, him already sweating too, and drove his ass HARDER just because my hips were totally out of control, fueled by my need to breed his ass.
“GEEEZUS FUCK, I’M cuuuAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!” resounded in the room as Cam started bucking, his whole body in wracking spams. “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK!” followed on, and I felt his ass spasm around my cock so tight that if my cock hadn’t been as hard as a light pole, I think his clenched muscle would have crushed it.
Cam’s yells continued as he emptied his balls’ seedload all over the wall and floor, and my own explosion was right behind his. His yells turned intelligible, and obviously he could feel my cock about to blast my seed deep into his guts. “Fuck YEAH Bill fucking FLOOD me! C’mon FUCK IT INTO ME!”
And I did, grabbing his shoulders so tight to ram my cock into him even harder and deeper than I had, grinding into him trying to get my whole groin up his fuckhole. It was only my grip on his shoulders that kept me standing as my knees started to buckle, and I went to pull my cock out of him – we hadn’t taken the time for condoms – but he reached back and grabbed my butt and PULLED me against him, his head slamming against the wall hard when he let go. I was beyond any control by that point, the last bit of it was my last ditch reflex to pull out. As I literally screamed/growled as my balls began to blast my seed and flood his cunt, the liquid heat around my cock of my own cum sent another electric bolt through my whole body.
I had him crushed against the wall slumped over him panting. His hands were still clenched around my ass cheeks holding me tight inside him. I lifted my head and felt like I was drunk or high. I’d never cum like that before in my life. “Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed breathily.
“Yeah,” Cam said under me, panting as hard as I was.
I started to try to pull out of him, but his grip was tight on me, and he leaned his head back and rubbed the side of his face against mine. “I’ve wanted this since the first day I met you, and now I don’t want to let you go,” he said.
I surprised myself and kissed his face gently and said, genuinely, “Thank you, that’s very nice.” I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him up as I regained my control of my legs and stood tall again. I kissed his neck again, too, holding him that way, our bodies pressed together, my cock still in him.
We stood there for a bit, and at length Cam said, “If you want to, I won’t stop you.”
I laughed at that. “Seems like we’ve passed far beyond you stopping me if you’d been going to!”
He chucked but didn’t really laugh. “I meant, if you want to go now, I understand.”
Ahh, now I got it. That sensitive bottom thing. “Cam,” I started.
“Really, Bill, we can file this under the category of ‘we’ll always have DC instead of Paris’ and move on if that works for you.
“Cam,” I said softly against his ear, “The only place I want to go right now is to the bathroom to empty my bladder.”
Cam moaned and disengaged from me so fast I almost didn’t know what was happening, and he was on his knees and sucking my slimy half hard cock into his mouth greedily. He looked up at me, as I looked down at him, and it was obvious what he wanted. I hadn’t done it many times, but hell, he wanted it, and I did have to piss, and before I knew it I was letting my stream flow, and he was moaning and sucking down every drop. He gulped and choked a few times, but he never missed a drop. And I’d drank a ton of water – a liter bottle when I left the gym on the way to the restaurant and probably the same amount as we drank water and ate bread at our aborted dinner.
Cam talked around my cock still in his mouth. “This is my fantasy come true, Bill.”
He closed his mouth around my cock and started playing with my balls and sucking me. My cock responded immediately, and I was steel hard again and ready to go. Or at least my cock was. “Whoa, buddy,” I said, pushing him – with incredible difficulty as he wouldn’t let go without a fight – off my cock and shoving him back on his butt on the floor. “Can we take a minute here? Cam looked disappointed. I put my hand down to him and said, “Come on, Cam, get up here!”
Cam took my big hand in his, strong grip, strong pull up. Hot. He was still looking disappointed and a bit hesitant. “Here’s what’s going to happen. That is, if you want it. First you’re going to go into the bathroom and brush your teeth and gargle. I’ve got some mouthwash in my backpack if you don’t have any.”
“OK,” he said tentatively, and started to turn to head to the bathroom. I reached out and grabbed his muscular arm. HOT! “What?”
“And after you’ve done that, you’re going to take off all your clothes.”
Cam’s face brightened a bit. “Sir, yes, SIR!”
“And then, when you come out of the bathroom – stark naked – you’ll find me also stark naked on that beautiful big bed in the other room there.” A low rumble came from him, and his eyes smoldered again, his face now full of want and need. “And then we’re going to make up for some lost time. That is, if you’re up for it.”
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” was all he said, but his cock had gone from hanging limp to jutting proudly just like that.
“I really, REALLY want to kiss you, but no way I’m kissing my piss in your mouth. And I’m not used to not being able to do what I want, at least by the time I’m in a HOT man’s hotel suite. Which, by the way, I hope you don’t have a client paying for because this has got to be hugely expensive.”
Cam gulped, obviously trying to compose himself. “I—“
“Cam . . . gargle . . . I can’t wait much longer here!”
He turned and headed to the bathroom, adroitly pulling his pants up as he turned and calling over his shoulder, “Sir, yes, SIR!” as he went through to the bedroom and disappeared.
* * * * * * * * * *
The next morning every muscle in my body ached from exertion. But the muscles that ached the best were my arm muscles, tightly wrapped around Cam, who was still asleep, snoring lightly. It was light out, but just barely. I enjoyed the feeling of him in my arms as well as the thought of all of our sexploits in that room over the past seven hours or so.
We had gotten a few basics out of the way after he’d gargled. We’d kissed, groped, ground into each other and, ultimately sucked each other and unloaded again. Then we had a brief time to talk before we started up again. He was just in town for the night. This was just sex . . . satisfaction of a fantasy he’d had for years which I never knew about because we were both too professional – and distant – to indulge carnal urges. So I wasn’t – hadn’t – fucking and going, but then again, this was what it was.
We didn’t get much sleep. And in exchange we were both so sore that the last time we had fucked he cried out with pain when I entered him and I cried out in pain because my cock was so raw. But in the next few moments we’d gotten back to rutting like animals in heat and got it DONE, again with a post-execution assessment that it was, again, amazing.
“You’re awake,” came sleepily from Cam.
I kissed his neck and hugged him a bit tighter, inhaling him, his sex-filthy scent, our scent. “I am, and we’ve got to accept that the magic bubble has burst and it’s morning.”
“Mmmmmmmmmmm!” was all he said, and he snuggled back into me tighter. I renewed my hug.
I was starved, and he had to be starved. I basically hadn’t eaten in 22 hours, and I knew at least he’d skipped dinner. I really needed to get up, get going, get something to eat, get to work . . .
I awoke again two hours later, surprised that I’d been asleep. “Yeah, you went out again, Bill,” Cam said, obviously awake. “Sad to say, man of my dreams, but I need to get up and get going. And so do you.”
And that’s the way it ended. Me grabbing my grubby, wrinkled clothes, kissing goodbye, morning breathe and all, grabbing four muffins and a coffee in the lobby to wolf down when I got in the cab. There was only one muffin and a part of a second one by the time I got to the bellman to get the cab, and those were gone in the moment it took for the cab to pull up. I had another bottle of water in my backpack and realized I was as dehydrated as I’d been starved. But those were just reflexive actions. As the cab headed out to take me to my apartment only ten or twelve blocks away but too far to walk that morning with my sore cock chafing with every step, my mind, my memory was what was working.
By the time I got to my apartment after the short drive, my cock was raging again, as I thought of Cam and me and all we’d done. I could still smell him on my upper lip with every inhaled breath. My cock was tenting my uni pants and making it uncomfortable to even walk, but I managed to, holding my pack in front of me as if I was looking for something in it as I walked. I got to my apartment and walked in and threw my pack down and called for the number to the Jefferson. When I was connected and he picked up in his room, I again surprised myself with my action. “If you’re as tired as I am, then today needs to be a sick day. And sadly as sore as I am and I know you’re the same—“
“More,” he interrupted.
“OK, you’re more sore. I’ll take that as a compliment, being the pig top I am—“
“No, you dumbass, more of YOU. I WANT more of YOU.”
I was momentarily breathless. “Come here. My bed’s more comfortable, my shower’s bigger and I have blackout drapes.”
Cam and I did something I knew I’d never done before, and he said he hadn’t either. We played hookie the rest of the week and through the weekend. We slept, we fucked, we ate, we worked out, we ENJOYED ourselves and each other.
And then, like the responsible adults we really were, we resumed our regularly scheduled lives on Monday. And after a few weeks the calls became fewer, the emails shorter . . . and the memory sweeter.
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