Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss Message-ID: 1993Aug19.161545@edu Followup-To: alt.sex.motss Keywords: Procrastinating.... Reply-To: () Organization: None Lines: 152
[in the spirit of the Tiffany story...]
Kris Lord paused at the top of the ski slope. He'd just started skiing the day before, and this was the first time down an intermediate slope. "Hope this doesn't kill me!" he chuckled to himself, and paused to give himself a discreet tug. He had borrowed ski togs from his next-door-neighbor Steve, and they were just a bit too tight. Every curve and lump and bulge in his body has in plain sight, and the friction of moving down the slopes had caused his member to rise more than once during the day. The steady snow hadn't helped. It covered the black fabric, slowly soaking him as it melted throughout the day. (He was kinda proud at how it showed off his buff body, though.) The only good thing about the snow, he thought, was it kept the slopes pretty bare of others. "So they can't see me fall and thrash about in the snow....very bad for the image!" Oh, he had seen a few skiers, one guy in a skin tight neon orange outfit had caught his eye -- seemed to ski with a great deal of elan, which Kris admired --, but he was getting on the lift to the advanced slope, so they never met.
Pushing off from the summit, he snowplowed down, occasionally putting his skis in alignment for a brief burst of speed (this also caused his pants to crease right up his ass). He had found that snowplowing squeezed his dick and it felt great; the more he snowplowed, the bigger his dick got. Halfway down the hill, a fairly prominent bulge was evident. And it was making him horny. But he couldn't go fast. He might fall down. And there was no one to see it. "And fuck 'em if there was," he thought. Probably just some gay admirer wanting a tumble. Didn't they know he was str8? Suddenly he realized the snow had picked up in intensity. Visibility, previously at about 1/2 mile, was suddenly reduced to almost nothing. "How far down is this hill?" he thought nervously. He skiied a little faster, but then chickened out and snowplowed a little more (God that feels great, he said, it's been so long). Sped up, slowed down, put a little more friction on his balls and impressively thick dick. "I gotta take care of this thing," he thought. Just as he thought this, the slope leveled off. "Am I at the bottom?" he thought, and then instantly remembered he was at the intersection of his slope and "The Terminator", a double black diamond. "I'm almost at the bottom". He stopped, and absently groped at his bulging crotch, feeling the heat through the snow-soaked black fabric. Running his fingers up and down the length of his dick, he shivered, more from the intensity of the feeling than the cold. "I gotta take care of this thing" he muttered, and shimmied his pants down to his knees, exposing his solid, rock hard angry red cock to the elements. Throwing off his gloves, he grabbed the turgid member and started slowly pumping. "This is great" he thought, throwing his head back, occasionally shaking it to rid his hair of the snow, and pumping away at his thick prick. The day of skiing-caused wonderful sensations on his prick quickly brought him close to peak, when he thought he heard a sound. Quickly remembering where he was, he bent down to pull up his skin-tight lycra pants. He sensed, but never really heard, the other skiier flying down the Terminator, another hot-ass skiier out of control. Kris turned to look over his shoulder, pants down around his knees, throbbing dick catching snowflakes, just as a flash of skin-tight neon orange slammed him off his feet and threw him 20 feet into deep mounds of powdery snow.
He lay there for about 30 seconds, remembering the brochure he had read: "Don't stop at the intersection of ski slopes". Then he got up, and noticed that his pants had been sliced in half. Each was covered to the knee, but the seat and crotch of his pants were gone. "Shit," he thought, "what am I gonna tell Steve?" A quick check convinced him that he wasn't really hurt, his dick was even half hard still. Then he heard a moan, and peering through the snow, saw a half-buried dark mound in the snow about 20 feet from him. He took off his skis, and walked over, dick flopping, to see who had hit him. The man was face down in the snow. His skin-tight orange pants had also ripped, exposing most of a hairless, muscled ass. (Are all pants so flimsy? Kris thought) One ski was still on the man's leg, but the other, over the top of which lay the crotch of Kris' pants, was off to the side. Kris crouched down, his dick dropping down to the snow ("Whoa!" he thought!), and took hold of the man's shoulders to turn him over. "Hey mister, are you all right?" he asked, receiving a guttural moan in reply. "Guess that means he doesn't have a broken neck or back," Kris thought, and rolled the man onto his back. Dark hair topped orange ski goggles. "You okay?" repeated Kris, and lifted up the goggles.
"Stryker!!" he said, as he recognized his competition in the big dick of the year award.
"Oh you asshole," replied Jeff, "what the hell were you doing there! I coulda been killed. Jesus Christ what happened. Where are my pants, why is my ass cold. And get that dick outta my face! I'm str8!" Jeff had gotten up onto his elbows, and Kris' half-hard dick hung inches, provocatively from his steaming mouth. "God damn newbies like you should be shot! I have half a mind to fuck your str8 ass silly, you little dick you."
"What the hell is your problem bonehead?" swore Kris. "What the fuck do you think you're doing zipping down in a blinding snowstorm at a hunnert miles an hour? God, look at my pants, you sheared them right off my body. How the hell am I supposed to get into the lodge you, you cunthead? You thin-dicked weasel. God why don't you take acting lessons. Sitting there moaning like you're hurt. Emote you screw-up, EMOTE!!"
Jeff was secretly jealous of the width of Kris' fabulous prick. He shot back, "Thin-dicked weasel am I? I know at least not to pop my rocks off on a ski slope. Whatssamatter, little prick, can't get it off in a woman? Faggot!"
Kris, infuriated, spat back, "Cocksucker. Won't see me go down in a movie. How'd you like the taste of cock. you prick-sucking maggot? Want a taste of this baby?" he leered, grabbing his hardening dick in his hand and pushing it at Jeff's lips. This badinage had got him hot. And he'd make Jeff pay for that little dick remark. So he wasn't at long as Jeff, he was thicker!
Seething with anger (and kicking off his remaining ski in the process), Jeff lept into Kris' arms, pushing him over and turning him over and shoving his face under the snow. He reached around Kris' crotch, arm braced against Kris' slippery wet ass cheeks, and grabbed Kris' stiff cock. "Taste this thing?" Jeff sneered. "You won't even have a dick after I use my karate skills to twist it off! And if you're str8, how come you got a hard-on wrassling with me in the snow? Answer me that pansy boy?" But before Jeff got the answer, Kris suddenly twisted, grabbed Jeff, and threw him back first down into the snow.
"I might ask you the same question, shit-for-brains," yelled Kris. "How the fuck do you explain THIS?" he queried, as he ripped off Jeff's tattered pants, revealing the famous rock-hard Stryker dick, soaked in sweat and melted snow. Instead of answering, Jeff suddenly squirmed out from underneath Kris, and jumped onto his back, locking him into a half-nelson at the same time.
"Who needs to explain?" he chortled. Jeff was positioned chest down on Kris' back, his naked ass slimy with melted snow. He immobilized Kris with the wrestling hold, then slowly started humping Kris' ass. Jeff's erect dick rubbed against Kris' perineum and poked his balls, before plunging down to Kris' own erection half-buried in the snow. Suddenly both men were moaning, as egos were conquered by lust. Kris turned around, and his hot mouth found Jeff's, as they locked in a sensuous kiss, tongues intertwining, pelvises pumping against each other, as two famous cocks slid in between two famous bodies. Kris and Jeff both moved hands over each other's bodies, pausing to finger each other's assholes, as their tempo picked up. SImultaneously, they gasped, "Oh suck me God yes suck my rock hard str8 boy dick please please I have to have yours in my mouth suck me give it to me." They flipped into a 69, and gobbled each other up. Jeff placed one finger, then two, then three, then his whole hand up Kris' suddenly accommodating ass, finding the prostrate (or is that prostate) gland, and milking it. Kris reciprocated, slipping two finger, then four, then six, then twelve fingers up Jeff's wide-open ass. "I didn't know you were polydactyl!" gasped Jeff, before redoubling his efforts to successfully suck Kris' rock-hard prick entirely into his mouth. "I didn't know it either," came the garbled reply, as Kris nibbled around the base of Jeff's long member.
"Unh, I'm almost there," said Jeff, "Take that cock, take that big cock!"
"You too, sport" replied Kris, as he cascaded over the edge of orgasm falls, spurting gob after gob of the Lord's Milk into Jeff's vacuuming orifice. "God God God God GOd GOD GOD GOD YYYEESS!" he cried out in delight! "This is so good, god you are great".
"Here I am!" yelled Jeff, and he joined Kris in orgasmatorial bliss. Spurt after spurt was sucked down Kris' throat accompanied by the delighted yelping of Mr. Stryker.
"Oh god".
"Oh Lord".
They rested, breath returning to normal, as the snow fell. Suddenly, they were cold, and realizing they were both half-naked, asked each other? What next?
(to be continued???)