Doc's Journal, Day One by John Deshyr john.deshyr@gmail.com
Copyright 2011. All Rights Reserved. Author is over 18 years of age. Do not read this story if you are a minor, or if it is prohibited by law to view pornographic materials in your state or municipality.
First morning of a much-needed three-day weekend. Law enforcement isn't ten percent as glamorous as television and books make it out to be, and working as a deputy in a jail is in the bottom half of a percent. Sometimes it takes an entire weekend for the smell of rancid clothes, stale piss and cafeteria food to work out of my sinuses.
I wake up to two sensations: the iron bar of my erection against a crisp cotton sheet and the rhythmic scratch of a thin white curtain against my bare foot. Slowly prying my eyes open, I see the silhouette of my right foot, tan and pink in the sunlight. I just lie there for a while, enjoying the two contrasting feelings, each exciting in its own way.
My eyes are drawn to my foot, not my dick. No idea why. My feet aren't really big or anything - I wear a size 10. At the moment, I just notice how wide they were, the curly auburn hair spreading down from my ankles, over the slope of my foot, and dusting my toes. Tan lines from the sandals I wear most of the time when I'm not on duty.
Not that it matters what my feet look like, I guess. But I figure a guy's feet should be manly -- every part of him should be -- and my thick, hairy, heavily-veined feet just look right, and I kind of like it.
I like my body. I'm thick and hairy and heavily-veined all over, I guess.
Thinking like that -- about looking manly -- always gets me hard, and I'm already hard, so I get harder. The long, thick bulge under the sheet twitches. I can already feel sap rising up the shaft. No way am I getting out of bed without blowing a load.
I stretch, arching my back. The fuzzy swell of my belly temporarily hides my erection. I kind of let my arm fall off the edge of the bed, and my fingertips graze a pump bottle of lotion, right where I left it last night. I cup my hand and lean down and get rewarded with a handful of cool cream.
I push the sheet down below my waist. My chest hair glints in the early light, brownish red. Cool breeze, so my nipples are tight. My dick is rosy, straining, lifted off my belly. Little pearl of juice at the tip. I could swipe it off with a finger and lick it clean, but that would just be a frustrating reminder that I can't suck my own dick.
I honestly don't know how long or thick I am, but it's a two-fister and then some. Depends on the fist, I guess.
Girls like it. Guys look at it. Sometimes they say shit, but usually not.
"Watch out, boys! Doc's packin'!" Shit like that. We all laugh and try not to sprout wood in the showers. We usually don't.
I flex -- one of those Kegel exercises Cypress taught me -- and it lifts up even further, then I glide my hand across the shaft, lay down a coat of lotion. Grip the base with my right hand, get a reverse grip on top of that with my left. Veins on my hands stand out, snaking beneath thick, curling hairs. Veins on my dick, purple and blue. I hump through my slick fists with long, even strokes. As my hips grind forward, my feet turn out. I wiggle my toes. Breeze feels good on my feet. Head of my dick's on fire.
At the top of each thrust, I tighten my ass and feel a line of fire from the base of my spine to the tip of my dick.
I picture Cypress riding me, knees tight against my hips, fingers tangled in my chest hair. Her large tawny eyes are shut, angry, mouth set. Every time she lands in my lap she grunts, like she's trying to get a stubborn stain off a linoleum floor. Every time she rises off my dick, she squeezes. I don't know how the fuck she does that.
I've never seen skin like hers. Warm bronze.
Then I picture my buddy Jake behind her, face buried in her ass, smacking and slurping like a pig. Listening to him eat a bowl of macaroni and cheese is disgusting, but for some reason listening to him eat ass is like a love song. Cy wriggles a bit, probably because of his coppery stubble roughing up the skin between her two holes. He loves fucking ass only slightly more than he loves eating it.
Jake's a big guy, 6'2", blond and pale, meaty and mostly hairless from the waist up, with a farmer's tan and a dick like a rolling pin. Cypress gasps as he works in a beefy index finger, licking and sucking around it.
He works in a second thick finger and she groans like she's stuck in traffic.
There's no avoiding his breath on my nuts. Makes me glad I don't shave them. Feels good, so I don't say anything.
Alone on my queen-size bed, I press the soles of my feet together, start fucking my fists hard and fast. The lotion and my precum form a gloppy paste that seeps out from between my hairy knuckles. The squishing noises aren't too far off from the real thing. Cypress is tight but sloppy, and I just make it sloppier. I imagine Jake has a hard time resisting the urge to get a quick taste of that tight golden pussy, seeing as I'm currently occupying it.
If I just lick off the juice on her lips he shouldn't notice, Jake thinks.
That gets me one step closer.
I imagine Cy leaning down, pressing her belly against mine to give Jake better access to her ass. I take a couple of handfuls of breast, her small girlish nipples like pearls between my fingers, her studded steel navel ring tickling the hairs on my belly. Jake's thumbnails graze my thighs as he pulls her asscheeks apart and starts tongue-fucking her. Her labored breath cools my forehead, smells like cardamom and the fleshy aroma of my crotch.
I like kissing her after she's had her mouth on my balls.
Then the idea comes to me: while I'm stabbing up into her, my legs thrashing, my feet squirming, what if the head of Jake's dick -- he's got to be rigid as a fireplace poker by now -- what if it accidentally slaps the sole of my left foot? He leaks like crazy, probably produces more precum in a single session than most guys produce in a proper load. He could paint a cold trail of precum from my big toe to my heel.
For some reason, that does it.
It shoots out in thick creamy gouts in time with my heartbeat, glazing my hip and flank. Each squirt stings, like I'm working sand out of my prostate. The pleasure is hot, aggravated,
Cooling seed trickles down my side, and I imagine spinning around one hundred and eighty degrees so I can eat my own load out of Cy, get her to cum hard on my face while Jake, grunting, pounds one into her ass.