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After The Night Shift, Part 4
I'd awakened Jim that morning, after we had sucked and pumped and screwed each other nearly dry the night before, with a caress of his damp balls and a wet lick of his morning hard cock. In a moment, we had rolled around on the bed, both of us licking and touching and stroking each other, finding our lusts rekindled by the morning sun across the sheets and our naked flesh. And, soon, blood was pounding in our cocks and our balls were full and tight against our cocks. Sweat glistened on our hairy chests and dripped from the fur in our pits and our groins. Urgently, we each sucked and pumped each other, until we were both hard, horny, and hungry for each other's load.
Jim turned me over, spreading my hairy cheeks with his calloused fingers, and pushed into me, opening me up for his thick bulb at the end of his big cock, and pushed slowly in, filing me up with his hot, wet cock, the thick hair of his bush pushing sweatily against my hard cheeks, his balls dancing against my own balls. Our ball sweat was slick and dank, smelling of last night's cum loads and the push of our butts and chests and arms, as we wrestled with each other, stroking and grasping each other, until we found that age old rhythm of lust, until we danced and sweated and moaned, until we had each tapped into that ancient explosion of our seed, emptying ourselves into each other, and spewing long ropes of our cum, criss crossing hairy bellies and chests and thick patches of fur above our cocks.
We came, fast and easy, that morning, not wanting to start the day without a full range fuck session, without savoring the taste of each other's hard, muscular bodies, without nipping and pulling on the thick carpet of hair that curled across our chests, without slurping and caressing each other's hot, stiff nipples, and cupping and groping each other's thick forested ball sacks, and the puckered, aching holes where cocks would pound and thrust, until they spurt yet another load of cum into our lover.
The sweat pooled on my chest, and mixed with the last bit of cum oozing from my spent cock, soaking the fur around my cockroot and my balls, and mixing with Jim's big load now seeping out of my ass. He took his meaty hand and gathered a good slathering of our loads, and smeared it across my chest and into my beard, and then across his hard, furry chest, until the room filled with the stink of our sweat and our jism, and the stench of our hard sweaty bodies from last night's love fest and this morning's romp.
The cum and the sweat began to dry, mixing with our heat, as Jim ran his finger across my balls, and tenderly grasped my now limp cock, holding me soft and gentle, warm against my still vibrating skin. The last tingle of my final orgasm still echoed through my groin, the last sparks of the electricity of that final spurt of cum still felt in my spine and across my brain.
I reached over to kiss his moustached lips, to taste his saliva. His beard around his lips was still wet from his drool, as he had moaned and thrashed when his cock exploded in my ass just a few minutes ago, and I could taste a bit of my cum, the bit left over from when he had sucked and tasted my seed last night, when the stars of heaven exploded in my brain and I filled his mouth with my seed, as his fingers dove deep in my ass, pushing and exploding my prostate into surrendering its essence, draining me of what felt like my last gallon of cum, as I yelled his name, again and again, in time with the throbbing of my balls and my cock.
We caught our breaths, and the cum and sweat and spit were now a dried, clotted mess on our chests and beards, and our cocks were still shiny with the last of our jism. I pulled Jim gently from the bed, grabbing the hand that had pushed so deep into me last night and exploded my prostate, the hand that had held my cock just a moment ago, soft, tender, loving.
"Time for a shower, big boy," I whispered, his hand still warm and damp in mine, his yeasty stench of sweat and cum still filling my nostrils, as I took him into the bathroom.
I soon had the hot water spraying against his strong, muscled back, and I began to lather him up, turning the shampoo into a thick suds of foam, covering his soft skin and hard muscles with the clean, white suds. Water and lather ran everywhere, and I paused to watch trickles of soap and water run through the thick hair of his chest, and pour off of his nipples, and then, regather in the ripples of his belly, getting lost in his hair and then gathering again in the forest of his groin. Foam and water poured off of his dangling, thick cock, white foam against the silken skin of his cock and the red bulb of his cockhead.
I'd never seen such a beautiful waterfall than this, the cascade of lather and water, and steam rising across his cock and low, dangling balls, and I knelt down, moving closer, watching this torrent, this movement over Jim's manhood, his very essence. And, I reached out to hold him, to take his loose ball sack, and to rub my fingers through the thick, curly hairs, washing out the cum and the sweat and to clean him, to feel him, to give him pleasure once again, this man who had given me so much, so many times.
And, I slowly ran my fingers across his cock, feeling the hot, wet silkiness of his cock, and washing and cleaning the ridges and the folds and the slit at the end of his cock, until the skin shined and glowed red and hot from the water. The long strands of hair from his groin and the base of his cock caught the water, slowing its descent, just a bit, leaving droplets of wet that shined in the morning light coming in from the window.
I was on my knees now, in awe once again of this man, this athlete, this most amazing and tender man, my lover. This man who had come into my life not so long ago, and had raised me out of my sadness, my loneliness, and who had worshipped me and who had walked with me as a partner, as an equal, as his chosen life partner. I was in awe of him, and he was of me, and we had spent hours together, just in conversation, doing the ordinary things in life that companions do. A walk in the park, a trip to the grocery store, doing the dishes, and sharing our favorite TV show, in all of these things, there was his magic, his compassion, his love for me.
And, so I knelt, watching him, eyes closed, enjoying with his very being the simple pleasure of a hot shower with his lover, after making love. He was so relaxed, so at peace, so content with himself. And, so was I with me. And, Jim had brought me that; he had brought me that sense of peace, of acceptance, of finding the simple joy in simple things.
And, so I took him again, opening my mouth and filling me with his manhood, hot and wet and clean. I felt him, against my tongue, against my lips, and held him, just held him. And, I felt his softness, and his heat, and his wet and the skin and the flesh of his cockhead and his shaft, and the wet, curly hair of his groin, against my beard. And the steam and the smell of the shampoo and the ions of the falling water filled my nostrils with this renewal, this energy of the earth and the water and this day with my lover.
Jim moved back, shoulders against the marble of the shower, and moaned a bit, his voice deep and resonating in his thick chest, as I took him deeper, until I felt his balls dangle against the hairs of my beard, finding a slow rhythm against my chin. He began to grow, to swell inside of me, and there was a new taste, deep on my tongue, the taste of his essence, the beginnings of his seed. And, we danced and tasted and thrust and moaned, again and again. And, I felt his hunger, his lust rising once again, as his hard manhood pushed and strained against me and deep inside of me, horny and needy. And, in the end, as Jim's moans and laughter echoed against the marble and the steam, he exploded again, cumming hard and hot, deep into me, giving me everything he had.
Copyright 2009. Oregon Bear