This story contains graphic descriptions of adult consensual gay male to male sex. If this offends you or it is illegal for you to read, please leave this site.
Copyright 2009. Oregon Bear oregonbear9@gmail.com
Improving My Golf Game
Brian came over early that morning, picking me up for the golf game we'd set up a few days earlier. We'd met last Saturday, at the hospital charity golf tournament, and found ourselves in a foursome with two guys from my work. One of them knew Brian from church and introduced Brian as a new guy in town.
He fit in well with us, and had the same dry humor we enjoyed at work, and was soon teasing and joining in with us on our less than professional golf skills. None of us took our golf game very seriously, but we played well, at least until the sixteenth hole. Brian and I both shanked our tee shot pretty badly on last three holes, and ended up walking along the edge of the fairway and into the rough for a ways. We had a good laugh over our really bad shots and decided we should try the game again on a day we weren't in competition to shoot well. We both had the next day off from work, and I set up a tee time when we got back to the clubhouse.
During our walk in the woods before we got to the green, I learned that Brian was single, and had moved to town because of a promotion his company offered him. His family was several states away and he was looking to make some friends here, and maybe settle down, hoping that Greenwood was a place he wanted to retire. I told him I was single, too. I didn't tell him he was looking real good to me and I wouldn't mind taking him to bed that night, or any night, for that matter.
He was a muscular buck, his well developed biceps filling the sleeves of his golf shirt nice and tight and his chest muscles rippled under his shirt when he swung his driver. I could see a thick tuft of chest hair next to his open collar, dark and curly, just like the neatly trimmed beard on his face. There was a bit of gray along his chin and temples, his face tanned and lean, just like his muscular arms.
He filled out his walking shorts nicely, too, and I could detect a sizeable bulge in his crotch and his butt was tight and firm when he walked ahead of me. He wasn't pudgy like a lot of guys who worked in an office, and his belly was flat. He hadn't mentioned a girlfriend or a divorce, and he didn't go into detail about the family he'd left behind in his move.
It has been too long since I'd had the pleasure of running my fingers through the fur of a guy's meaty chest, or wrapping my lips around a hard, pulsing cock, adding my saliva to the precum of a handsome guy, and sliding up and down a big stalk of manhood, pushing all his buttons so he could shoot a geyser of cum into my mouth or across his hairy belly, as he thrashed and moaned in ecstasy. I'd want him to switch roles with me, too, and give my cock a good workout, making my balls rise, and sending me almost to the edge, until I finally spurt a few thick ropes of my own jism, my hand gripped hard into his naked muscular shoulder. My balls ached with the thought of all that, wanting that dream to come true again.
I hadn't mentioned I was gay, either. A guy just doesn't do that in this small town, with someone you've just met. My friends knew I was gay, but they didn't go around announcing that fact, and respected my interest in men. A couple of them were always trying to match me up with a handsome guy, and even their wives would sometimes invite me over for dinner or a barbeque, and sometimes there would be a few new guys there they were wanting to introduce me to.
I tossed and turned that night, thinking of Brian and worried that I was too eager to get to know him. I talked myself into relaxing about the next day's golf game, telling myself this wasn't a date.
I invited Brian in for a quick cup of coffee before we hit the golf course, and I gave him the quick tour of my house. He took an interest to my photographs and the couple of oil landscape paintings I had in the living room. He seemed surprised I was an artist, and asked a few questions, letting me know he knew his stuff. He liked art, he said, and liked to check out the galleries when he was in a new town. He knew his art, and we talked about techniques and the latest trends in the regional art scene, and I ended up suggesting we go into the city for the next First Thursday gallery openings. He thought that was a fine idea and wrote down the date on the little notebook he kept in his pants pocket. As he was getting out the notebook and writing down the date, I had a chance to check him out a little better.
He was wearing another good looking pair of shorts again today, a little tighter than the day of the tournament, and I could see the outline of his cock, and the bulge of his balls. He didn't seem to be wearing any underwear, and my cock grew a little bit, as I was thinking of what treasures lay inside of Brian's shorts. I wondered if that nice curly chest hair I'd spotted ran down his belly and how thick it must be around his manhood. I also wondered if that nice carpet of hair spread across his muscled chest, and around his nipples. A bit of sweat collected in my pits, just thinking about the possibilities.
We were close enough I could catch just a whiff of his scent, clean, but with a bit of sweat. He didn't douse himself in some of that sweet overpowering cologne that a lot of guys use. Just soap and a little manly sweat. Just like I want in a man.
We took my pickup to the golf course, and ended up playing 18 holes. We took our time. It was a week day and the course wasn't crowded. Brian was a better long game man than I was and he gave me some good tips. I could putt better and ended up giving him some good tips on the short game. We joked around a bit, and the game went better after Brian pulled out a couple of cold beers out of his golf bag when we got to the back nine. They tasted good, as the day had warmed up and we'd both broke out in a sweat.
Back at the club house, Brian bought me a beer and we found a quiet table out on the patio, away from the usual crowd, who were busy inside watching how the pros did it on a big screen TV. Brian started asking about how life was here in Greenwood, and wanting to know a bit about my life. I told him I was single, leaving it at that. He pushed a little bit, wanting to know if I had a relationship.
I try to make it a rule in my life that I don't go around telling people I'm gay, unless I've known them for quite a while or if I can trust them to not go ballistic on me if they think I'll contaminate them with the gay virus or convert their sons to uncurable demonic homosexuality. Everything I'd felt about Brian told me he really was who he came off being, and I felt I could be open with him.
"I'm gay, Brian. All my friends know that about me, and I consider you a friend," I said. "And, no, I'm not in a relationship now. I was, but Bill left me a couple of years ago. He cheated on me a couple of times, and I called it quits."
"I'm sorry, John. Not sorry you're gay, but sorry you had a rough time back then. Seems we all go through a break up at some time in our lives, and it hurts like hell. No one goes through it the same way, but there's still a lot of pain," Brian replied.
"Yeah," I said. "There's pain and then there's gain, after a while. I learned a lot from all that. Sounds like you know what that's about, like you had some real experience in that field."
Brian nodded, his eyes drifting away, his expression turning into a thousand yard stare. I could see the pain well up inside of him, his eyes starting to tear up a bit.
"I'm sorry about that, Brian. Real sorry," I said.
Brian nodded, and we sat there on the patio in silence for a bit, the breeze cool, starting to dry the sweat on my shirt. I took another sip of the cold beer, tasting the hops and the sweet malt of one of the region's best microbrews. I was really a wine drinker, but on a hot day after working up a good sweat, a beer tasted good.
"I didn't mean to pry, John," Brian said, finally. "I mean, about you being gay. You're pretty brave telling me that. You don't really know how I might have reacted."
"Oh, I'm getting old enough now that if I feel I can trust someone with that little factoid about me, I just let it fly," I said. "Besides, a lot of younger people don't make a fuss about who someone sleeps with. It's just our generation and our parents' generation who still has heart attacks over that stuff."
"Well, you're right about that. And, I'm more than OK with that, John," Brian said. "I'm gay, too. I felt like I could tell you that, even before I knew you were gay. I felt I could trust you with that, the first time we met."
I grinned back at Brian, and we broke out into laughter that was loud enough the bartender looked over at us, as he was dropping off some martinis to a group of the town's more elite golfers. He came over to the table, asking us if we wanted another beer.
"Sure," Brian said. "We need to finish our story anyway." He looked over me and grinned, and gave me a wink after the bartender turned away to get us those beers.
We relaxed after that, falling into a comfortable discussion about our lives, and living honestly and openly with who we were. Our friendship deepened a whole bunch that afternoon, with both of us relaxing and pouring out our souls to each other.
We talked for a long time that afternoon, switching to iced tea so we wouldn't have to call a cab to take us home. Brian told me about his last relationship and how they'd broken up. I told my sad story of Bill and his affair, and starting to date again in a small town. We'd both struggled a lot with coming out to our families, and we had a lot in common with not coming out with everyone.
I invited Brian over for dinner. We both lived alone and we weren't done with our conversation, not by a long shot. I had a salmon in the freezer, one I had caught during the spring run, and Brian had an old family recipe for garlic mashed potatoes he wanted to try out on me. We found out we both liked to cook, and we started making a royal mess of my kitchen. It felt good to have someone in the house who was joking and laughing, and someone to listen to my stories.
After I cleaned up the rest of Brian's amazing garlic mashed potatoes and Brian had thirds on my salmon, barbequed with a couple of slices of lemon, wrapped in foil on the grill, I made my special coffee and we sat out on the patio, watching the sun go down over the river and the forested mountains that surrounded the valley. I lived out in the country, just a few miles from town. It was quiet here. Peaceful. And, the company was good.
Lust stirred in my shorts, and my eyes were having a feast of their own, looking at this muscled hunk next to me, his nipples tight against his shirt, the interesting shapes in the crotch of his shorts tempting me to wonder what lay under his zipper.
I'd been thinking about sleeping with Brian, but kept that thought in the back of my mind, as we talked and got to know each other. I'd had my share of one night stands, but I was beyond that now, wanting more to life, and more to sex. When I was with someone, I wanted the sex, but I wanted more. Conversation, a meeting of the minds, someone who cared about me, and not just my cock or if they could live out all their sexual fantasies in my bed.
And, Brian was becoming that kind of guy to me. He had a mind, and a big heart, and I was finding out we had a lot in common. Not that I didn't keep admiring his muscular body, the play of the last of the sunlight in his beard, or the way his shorts tightened across his crotch. My little head was doing some serious thinking, too. It had been a long time since I'd been with a guy, and had my way with him, and felt the tightness of strong arms around me, of calloused meaty fingers running through the fur on my chest, touching my nipples, lighting my fire, breathing softly on my neck.
"What're you thinkin' about, John?" Brian asked, interrupting what I was starting to realize was my mind going around and around and not being on the patio with my new friend.
"I was thinking about you and me, and, well, about what it'd be like to be with you, and we being lovers," I replied.
"Hmmm," Brian murmured.
We lapsed into silence. I felt uncomfortable at first, thinking he was angry at me, or offended. But, he didn't say anything, like an angry guy would, like he'd be if I insulted him. He just sat there, and so did I, taking in the silence.
"Well," Brian finally said, "I think I'd like that. I'm kinda scared, though. It's been a long time since...since I've been with someone. I don't want to disappoint you."
"Its been a while for me, too, Brian. And, I don't want to disappoint you," I replied.
We sat there for a while, looking at the last of the daylight fade in the western sky, feeling the air cool a bit, as it got dark, finally. The darkness felt good, close and warm, comforting.
"I'm in need of a shower. I'm pretty ripe after a day on the golf course. I worked up a pretty good sweat out there, and if we're gonna get to really know each other, I'd like to impose on you for a shower," Brian said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. He seemed like he was getting shy on me, and I thought that was pretty cute of him. It was a side of him I hadn't seen before.
"Yeah, me, too. And, we could shower together, and get to know each other a bit. I'd love to run a bar of soap around all of those muscles and see what's underneath your shirt," I said.
"I'd like that, too," Brian said. "I'd like to see what's inside your jeans, and get wet with you, too."
We laughed, the tension of the last few minutes easing, and I relaxed a bit, knowing I could be myself with Brian, and let myself be loved tonight. I wanted to be close with him, not just for the sex, but to simply be with someone else, sharing something special. It had been a long time since I'd known that kind of thing. And, I was hungry for it, more hungry that I'd been thinking.
Brian stood up, grabbing both of our coffee mugs, and headed back inside, putting the mugs on the kitchen counter. He turned towards me, a big grin across his face.
"Where's the soap, partner?" he chuckled.
We'd both kicked off our shoes when we came home, and all that was left was our shirts and our golf shorts, and the underwear I had on. I'd checked Brian out enough to know he'd gone commando for the day, and I was ready to see every part of his equipment. I started to strip off my shirt when Brian put his hands over mine, and slipped my hands away from the cloth.
"I'd like to do this nice and slow, and take our time. You go first, and take off my shirt. But, do it slow, nice and easy. We have all night, and I want this to last a long time," he whispered.
He turned to light a couple of candles in the bathroom. It was pretty big room, part of the master suite at the end of the house. There was a big shower stall and also a double sized Jacuzzi tub, a big room, big enough to two men to enjoy together. I'd never thought about it as a place for romance, but I looked around a bit, seeing the room for perhaps the first time. Yeah, a good place to be tonight, with someone special. I flicked off the light switch, leaving just the candlelight to softly light up the tiles and the mirror and the big man standing right in front of me, a big grin splitting his beard.
My hands trembled as I moved closer to Brian, finding the last button of his polo shirt, and undoing it slowly, baring another thick swatch of his black curly chest hair. I could feel the heat rise from his chest, his pungent sweaty aroma filling my nostrils. He was sweating a bit, nervous sweat, I thought. The evening had cooled down a bit, and the house was air conditioned. My pits were wet, too, and my heart pounded strong in my chest. I knew I was nervous.
I took a deep breath, and ran one hand down the hardness of his chest, feeling the cloth of his shirt sliding against the skin of my palm, until I reached the bottom of his shirt tail. I grabbed the hem with both hands, and slowly moved the cloth up, until I could see his belt, and then the fur of his hard belly. The hairs swirled around, curly, tufts of hair going in all directions, circling his belly button, hair thicker the closer it grew to his crotch. I knew I'd get there, seeing all the hair nesting around his cock, but I was willing to wait. Everything here was mine to enjoy, and, like Brian said, we had all night.
A long trail of thick curls run up his belly, curving around the hard bands of his abs. He didn't have hardly any belly fat, and his hard muscles rippled a bit under the hair as he breathed slowly. My hand explored his warm, hard belly, feeling the softness of his fur, the hard muscles, the heat of his skin, and his slow breaths. Hard and soft, warm and comforting, everything I was wanting tonight.
Brian sighed, taking a deeper breath, and sighed again. I could feel him relax a bit, and move into my hand, as it stroked the swirls of dark curls splayed across his hard belly. I thought about how it would feel, after a while, laying my face across that belly, looking across at the hardness of his cock, throbbing and pulsing, my hand caressing his balls, and watching a strand of precum ooze out of his cockhead, slowly falling to the fur just above his cockroot, wetting his fur just a bit, just before I took him all the way down my throat, until my nose was next to his balls, his scent strong and manly, filling my nostrils with his manliness, with his need.
My cock throbbed hard and long, pushing against my underwear, tenting my shorts, a small wet spot soaking through the cloth, as I ached to be with this man, and take him into me so we could rise higher and higher, until our seed could spurt and fly, mingling together in the sweat of our cumming, and our ragged gasps as we clung to each other, sharing our ecstasy, crying out our joy in being together, in cumming together.
And, I raised his shirt higher, baring the hardness of his perfect, muscular chest, his two fat nipples hard and pointed now, with his need, his excitement. Thick curls swirled around both of his tits, and a thick matt of hair nested wet in the hardness between his tits. My hand moved upward, feeling the spongy thickness of his hair, the hardness of his pecs, the deep definition of the ridge of muscles outlining his strong, manly chest, and the hard points of his nipples. His sweat dampened the palm of my hand, as I slowly ran my hand over his chest, again, and again, feeling each tuft of hair, the hot circles of his nipples, and the aching tips of both nipples.
With every slow circle of my hand, Brian moaned a bit, and caught his breath, savoring the movement of my hand, not wanting me to stop.
I pulled his shirt higher, until the armholes bunched around his armpits and thick shoulders, until the cloth caught on the hardness of his arms and his bearded jaw, the collar catching a bit against his furry chin. His wet, furry pits were open to me, my nose filled with his manly, ripe smell, the sweat glistening on the fur in the candlelight. My fingers ached to run through the thick curls and deep hairy pits, and across his chest, again, naked and warm to my touch. I wanted to feel the hardness of his shoulders and chest, and feel the hard muscles of his arms flex when he moved, and to feel the strength of his back and shoulders when he moved.
Slowly, I pulled his sweaty shirt off of his head, watching the candlelight play across his broad shoulders and the furry swirls of chest hair, watching the light catch in the whiskers thick across his face, the unshaven edges of his beard outlined in the light against his tanned, handsome face. His eyes locked into my eyes, and his lips widened into a grin.
"Now, undo my belt, slowly. Strip off my shorts. Please." he whispered, his deep voice softly filling the tiled room.
I knelt down before this Apollo who graced my house, my bathroom, who let me strip him of his shirt, baring his hairy manly chest, a man who welcomed my caress of his hard, aching nipples, and the fondling of his fur and steely muscles. His sweaty torso glowed in the dim golden light, his fur marching deeper and thicker down from his chest to his belly, to what lay under his belt, his shorts. And, it was time, time to see him in all of his glory.
His shorts bulged with the hardness of his manhood, its thick tube stiff and fat, pushed across his groin by the stretched cloth of his golf shorts, and the hint of his thick, full balls ripe in the center of his groin. A spreading stain of wetness outlined the tip of his manhood, and I could see the swelling of its tip underneath the thin cloth. Not enough to tell if he was cut or uncut. The mystery of that still unrevealed to me, as my fingers fumbled a bit with the belt end and the buckle of his leather belt.
I pulled hard against the belt, fumbling a bit as I sprung the tongue of the belt buckle from the well worn hole in the belt, until the belt loosened, the loop hanging free now, down along his hips, leaving only the metal snap holding his shorts on his hips, the zipper shiny in the light.
My fingers moved down the front of his shorts, over his zipper, feeling, at last, the outline of his shaft, coming to the hard tip of his manhood, still caught behind the cloth. The steam of his sweat, and his hardness, and the wet of his juices soaking his cockhead and his shorts felt hot, wet in my hand, as I felt him, felt him stiffen a bit at my touch, feeling a hint of the pulse of his blood in his shaft, bringing him harder, stiffer, wanting to be free, wanting to be touched, taken.
Brian let out a soft sigh, his thick chest resonating the sigh so that it filled the room with his voice, his urgent need, his desire. His meaty hand fell on my head, pulling my face closer to him, closer to his manhood.
"Strip me," he sighed.
And, slowly, I finally unsnapped his shorts, and took the tab of the zipper between my thumb and finger, slowly pulling it down. The front of his shorts parted a bit, thick curls of wet, sweaty hair springing out, black and shiny. A new wave of his manly smell invaded my nose, a mixture of sweat and the funkiness of a man's cock and balls, kept confined by cloth. Yet, it was fresh and spicy, tempting, in many ways. I could smell his lust and his desire, and the fresh oozing from his cock of his need. And, I wanted him, right then and there, wanting to sink down deep on his cock, taking him deep into my mouth, feeling his cockhead oozing and hardening against my tongue, pushing my nose deep into his thick bush of hair, filling my hand with the hardness and hairiness of his balls.
His thick manhood rose hard in front of me, its uncut tip red, swollen with his need. I could see the vein on its side pulse a bit with his blood, until it hardened to its full length, the entire shaft pulsing and swaying to the beat of his heart.
His large ball sack filled the rest of his furry crotch, the thick nuts filling the wrinkled sack, curls of hair almost hiding the wrinkled skin of his sack, his thighs coated with more swirls of black curls. His scent rose hot into my nostrils, filling my sinuses with his lusty sweaty odors. I licked my lips, anticipating his taste, and I moved forward, ready to take him deep into my eager mouth, wanting to ride him, to have him thrust hard and fast into me, until his cum spurted deep inside of me, until ropes of his seed spewed into me, drenching me, dripping down onto my chest. I wanted to smell his seed, wanting to feel his sperm wet and slimy across my beard, my moustache, wanting to hear him cry out as he came deep inside of me.
"Wait," he said, "wait."
He pushed his hips and wiggled his hard buttocks a bit, his shorts losing the last of their traction on his naked hips, until they fell down around his feet. He quickly stepped out of them, kicking them to the side, and stood in front of me, his muscular thighs like tree trunks, his hard phallus and thick balls and chiseled torso poised in front of me.
"It's my turn, now," Brian whispered, his hand moving to my own now sweat-soaked T shirt.
My lust and my excitement had fired me up, my pits soaking through the cotton shirt, the front of my shirt wet through, my own nipples hard and aching as the wet cloth rubbed against them. I was on fire, my cock hard against my shorts, my mind focused on this naked man wanting me and me wanting him. No words ran through my brain, but if there could be a word, it was lust, pure and simple. And it could only be quenched by having him tonight, in every way. There was no turning back, there was no switch to throw. I was on fire.
And, slower than slow, he stripped me of my T shirt, taking his time exploring my belly, my chest, my eager nipples, the hairs of my armpits, the ridges of my back muscles, the curves of my buttocks, the hardness of my cock, still covered with the wet cloth of my own shorts.
My own stench rose high in my nostrils, and I could smell my sweat, the heat of the summer day on the golf course, and the sweat of my lust and desire, the odors of my own crotch, as I hardened and grew with each caress of his hands and his fingers across my skin. I felt my own fire rise across my chest and in my groin, as Brian slowly stripped me. First, the T shirt, its sodden cloth now lying in a ball against the wall. And, then, my shorts. My belt, slowly undone, slowly pulled, belt loop by belt loop, until it was tossed next to my shirt, and then, my shorts.
The button was slowly undone, meaty fingers playing with the fur on my belly, my hot skin, and tugging urgently against the waistband of the shorts. Until, finally, the button gave way and only the zipper was left to hold the cloth against the tightness of my groin, and my butt, the muscles quivering a bit, eager to be touched, to thrust against the hands and the naked body of my lover.
Another hand grasped me, fingers outlining the shaft, hard against the cloth, and then, moving down a bit, cupping my balls through the cloth, until I could feel his heat, his touch.
And, the zipper moved slowly, so slowly, until it, too, was open, my shorts gaping, my hardness pushing against my underwear, pushing out to where the gap in the zipper finally gave me some freedom, freedom to grow and harden and thrust. Another breath, and the shorts found their way to my shirt, and my underwear now was in his hands. Strong fingers running across the sweat soaked cloth, my juices oozing from my cock mixing with the sweat, the odors yeasty, lusty in my nose.
"I want you," he whispered. "I want you real bad."
And I could only nod, only tremble as his hands slowly pulled the thin cloth of my underwear down over my swollen cock, my tight, full balls, my clenched butt muscles, until, at last, I was stripped, naked in front of my lover, until all that I was and all that I wanted to be with him was, at last, ready and open for him.
"Take me," I cried.
"Not yet. Not yet," he whispered. "Let's take our time, get to know each other. Take our time."
And he grabbed my hand, pulling me into the shower, my cock hard and dancing a bit over my balls as I stumbled after him, until he closed the door behind us, the stench of our sweat and our lusty juices mixing, hot and fetid. Our armpits and crotches were ripe with sweat and lust and the first juices of our ripe, hungry balls. I breathed deep, taking in our smells, taking in the heat of our lust, the hardness of our cocks, the smell of the soap, and the first spray of the water, as Brian turned on the faucet, and adjusted the nozzles.
The water turned hot, steam rising, as Brian grabbed my shoulders, taking me into the water. The hot water poured down my hair, soaking me, running into my beard, my moustache, down my chest, soaking the heat of my cock, rinsing the fur of my balls.
I pulled him into the spray, too, until he was soaked, until large streams of water ran down his hairy chest, his hard belly, and into his hard groin. We laughed and pushed and joked, dancing with the sheer delight of hot water at the end of a hard, sweaty day, the warmth and the steam relaxing us, taking us out of the world into our own private place, a place we could dance and play, and enjoy.
We found the soap, and took turns rubbing the bar over hard chests, and furry bellies, and deep, hairy armpits. We soaped up bellies and butt cracks, and thick, furry balls, and thick cocks, now half hard in the steam, and the warmth. We soaped and scrubbed and rinsed, and did that all over again.
We explored and touched and caressed and fondled. I pushed one soapy finger deep into his hole, feeling his heat, fondling his balls as they tightened under his once-again hard cock. He moaned a bit, as I took my time exploring him, inside. He was wet and smooth, his muscles tightening against my finger.
I'd be coming back here, I thought, my hard cock pushing inside of him, feeling his smooth, clean, hot hole, feeling my balls push up against his butt cheeks, my hard manhood taking him.
And, he found my hole, taking his own time exploring me, pushing deep into me, raising my own balls, my cock again expanding, hardening, its head wanting to be where my finger had just been. And, soon, soon it would be that way with us. We both knew it, and we both wanted it.
Brian found the shampoo and we took our time shampooing and rubbing and rinsing each other's hair and each other's beards, finally rinsing the last of the suds down the drain. Our skin was pink and hot and clean, at last. And, we laughed and joked and chuckled at the simple fun of two guys in a shower, taking our time with each other, just having fun.
We shut off the water, letting the steam rise from our bodies, taking hold of each other with our arms, holding each other. The only sound in the room was the last bit of water draining from the showerhead, drops of water slowly falling off of hard muscles and fur and the ends of our still half-hard cocks.
He felt good to me, strong, hot, comforting me. His arms held me tight, and I held him tight, too. We feel deep into each other, skin against skin, hard chests, and strong thighs against each other. Cocks and balls pushed against each other, thick hair entangled, feeling each other's heat, each other's manhood, feeling the heat rise in our passion, in our love.
We slowly made our way into the bedroom, each of us taking a candle, giving the bed a soft golden light. I pulled off the comforter and we fell onto the sheets, arms and legs and chests and bellies entangled. My hands explored his hard, muscular body, and soon I found myself cupping his ball sack, my fingers feeling the heat rise from his crotch, his full, manly balls firm in the hairy, silky skin of his sack. His cock rose now, again, throbbing. The thin skin of his tip stretching back, pulling away from the red crown of his cockhead, wet from his precum, shiny in the candlelight. His juices pooled a bit, overflowing, falling in a silken strand down to the thick fur surrounding the base of his tool.
I flicked a finger through the strand, bringing his juice to my mouth, tasting his salty sweet precum, wanting more, a lot more. I looked up to see Brian gazing at my face, watching me taste his juice, watching me break out into a grin, watching me savor the moment.
He moved down to my crotch, pushing my thighs apart, and up towards my belly and my chest, opening my to his eager, wet lips, as he slowly tongued each one of my balls, and then sucked them, one at a time, into his hot, wet mouth. His finger pushed wetly into my hole, stretching me, opening me a bit, one finger finding the base of my cock, caressing it, until all that I could feel was him touching me, holding me, raising me higher and higher.
And, in a minute, he was inside of me, slowly at first, so that I could feel every bit of his thick cockhead pushing and sliding past my ring, until the full length, the full thickness of his cockhead was inside of me, until I felt full, stretched, almost satisfied. My hands clenched his muscular butt cheeks, gripping them hard with my passion, until I pulled his deeper into me, until his cock was buried its full length inside of me, until his cockhead pushed against my prostate, both of us moaning as his hardness stroked and caressed the nerves, my trigger primed, nearly ready to fire.
His meaty chest slid on top of my chest, his hair and muscles rubbing softly, firmly against my tits, pushing me flat on the sheet. And, slowly, he began to stroke me, every part of his body against me, pushing up and sliding back, just a bit. Every hair on my belly, my chest, my crotch, now entangled with his fur, hair against hair, muscle against muscle, sweaty skin against sweaty skin.
And we danced, and thrust, and moved, rolling over until I was on top of him and dancing on him, and then, again, under him, feeling the weight of his hips, his balls, his cockhead still deep inside of me, part of me.
We moaned and signed and moved, and rose higher and higher, until, until we could take it no more, until we each exploded, long streams of cum erupting from hard cocks, spewing our seed. Brian thrust deep and hard, his sperm filling my hole, his cock now sliding with even more speed, until his head dropped to my chest, all of his being fully spent, exhausted.
My cock spewed hard and long, trapped between the fur of our crotches and our bellies, until my seed soaked our fur, mixing in with our sweat and our heat, filling the air with the yeasty odor of manhood and sex.
We lay motionless, watching the light flicker gently on the ceiling, our breath deep and ragged, our muscles still trembling from our dance, our cocks now flaccid, still oozing the last of our seed from the first of our orgasms that night. The only sounds in the room were the faint movements of the river, a gentle breeze cooling us through the open window.
And, soon, we explored each other again, finding new delights and new pleasures, and rising to new heights of pleasure. We hid nothing from each other, both of us urging each other on, urging ourselves on, taking our time, until we each exploded, reaching new joys, draining our balls again, and again, and finally, one more time, until we could cum no more. And, then, just as we thought we were falling asleep, we found another path to heaven, and reached our ecstasy one last time.
We awoke the next morning, the sun already up, arms and legs still entangled, the room still drenched in the heavy odor of sweat and sex and the stickiness of the drying cum of our cocks. Brian's hand moved down my flank, and across my belly, reaching down to cup my balls, and finding me hard, again. And, so we danced again, the morning light bright against our naked butts and sweaty shoulders and chests, until a new wave of pleasure soaked us again with the first fresh seed of the day.
And, again we slept, bodies and arms and legs entangled, until at last I staggered out from under the softness and the hardness of my lover, ready to start our new lives, together.