Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. No part of this story may be reprinted without permission. Copyright by Metredose, 2021, and all rights reserved. Comments and criticism welcome. Metredose@gmail.com
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Last Dance
If you saw Caleb dancing, probably late on a Saturday night in some dark, overheated club, you would never know that he was a virgin. His lean, athletic body would writhe and undulate to the music, especially when a song with a slower beat came on. The slowly gyrating hips, the sinuous limbs, the light and twisting steps all came together in sensuous invitation, but the invitation was only to watch. If someone stepped in and tried to dance with him, he soon turned away, for Caleb danced with himself and no one else.
For two years, since he turned twenty one and started going to dance bars, none had seen him leave his favorite club with another person. On rare daylight sightings of the beautiful young man, for those on the lookout, he was almost always alone. Yet to talk to him was to understand that his choice to be alone was not born of any sense of superiority. He was friendly. He smiled a lot and never had a bad word to say. But all advances toward him were met with embarrassment and a gentle let down.
In summer he looked especially lovely. He wore shorts, cut just below the knees, and sometimes took off his shirt when he was out enjoying the sunshine, his smooth, taut flesh browning easily, his longish, silky hair lightening and reflecting light itself. He could be seen in the company of others, then, young women and young men who looked no older than he, but always it was in groups and never just one, as in a couple. When he made his way to the local lake shore beach, heads turned and eyes rested on him, and any companions were regarded with curiosity.
Was one of these friends his lover? Were all of them? There was one man in particular, a muscular man from the dance club who wore leather pants, who was especially interested. He and his own friends, hipster types, often stared at Caleb when he danced. Once, the muscular man, whose biggest physical flaw was that he bore rather broad hips, much accentuated by the leather pants, beckoned insistently at the boy while he was grooving. Well, Caleb, lost though he was in the music, could hardly ignore the man. So he went over. And he could hear little of what the man nor his surrounding clique of friends had to say, because the music was loud. But their eyes were not kind. And the muscular man started to dance, well away from the dance floor, in exaggeration and mockery of the boy. His friends thought it was hysterical. Of course.
That was summer. The boy had taken off his shirt, and stuffed it into the back of his long shorts when he danced. One of the muscular man's friends snatched it away. More laughter. Caleb could see it rather than hear it. And then the leather pants man had come close, grabbed the boy's wrist, removed the one ring that he wore on his index finger, a simple silver one. Caleb tried to take it back but the man pushed him away, inspected the ring in the flickering disco light. Well, the boy didn't care. He walked away. He left his ring and his shirt, the clique and the broad hipped man behind. And he danced.
Other eyes were on him, kinder eyes, eyes that moved with him. But no one dared approach him, as usual, because he seemed so lost in his own little world. After the dancing, the boy left, but he was waylaid outside of the club by the muscular man, who pushed him against the dirty brick of the alleyway, and pushed his big body against the boy's. He leaned in for a kiss. His breath reeked of stale booze and cigarette smoke. Caleb could not move his body, but he could move his neck. He escaped the kiss but not the man. He struggled. He whimpered. The muscular man's eyes sneered at him.
Someone, a young woman, yelled at the muscular man, told him to back off. The muscular man didn't listen. He leaned in again. There was no evading the kiss now, not with the man pressing him so hard against the wall, but then, suddenly, the man yowled and let Caleb go. The man bent over in pain. Behind him, a young woman with a military haircut, blonde and slight, glared at the leather pants man. She had kicked him from behind, square in the nuts. The boy walked briskly away, into the night.
He worked. Of course he worked. Everyone in the city had to work. The boy made reasonable money working as an executive assistant. He was sweet, competent and deferential at work, the kind of boy who brought out the protective instincts in older women, like his boss. No trouble there. His boss thought he was nicer than other men, and he was, and that, more than anything, is what ingratiated him to her. The boy was a free spirit like she was when she was younger, like she sometimes wished she still could be. She looked out for him, worried about him, even, and gave him no grief.
So when he left the dance club, he had his own place to go to. He was a little shaken at first, but the walk did him good, and by the time he got home, the incident with the muscular man was mostly forgotten, and his shirtless skin was refreshingly cool. He put on some music when he got home, drank a final beer. His conscience was clean. He slept like a baby. But the muscular man did not. He brooded. His attraction to the boy and the boy's, to him, inexplicable rejection, bothered him a great deal. And when the boy did not appear at the dance club the following Friday or Saturday, his anger grew more powerful. Something inside of him needed the boy to want him.
Caleb painted. Nothing formal, nothing fancy, Water colors, acrylics, whatever he could find. But only when the spirit moved him. He would slap a big sheet of white paper onto the hardwood floor of his little apartment, and then he would lose himself. Sunflowers, unfurling in bright light, ochre yellow in front of a lurid, Prussian blue sky. The blazing sun, rising or setting over water, sometimes choppy, sometimes calm. A pale, lost horizon. These things and more appeared on the paper from his brush, as if by magic, and his green eyes would light up for a moment when he looked at what he had done when they were finished. And just as quickly he'd set them aside and do something else, the images forgotten until the next time inspiration struck. But Caleb had no aspirations for his paintings. They were simply something he did. A big stack of them grew on his kitchen table, eventually to be stored away and forgotten, but he felt no need to go dancing for a long while.
Sometimes he called his mother. He loved her but she was too much for him. So much family drama about nothing. Caleb was calm and becalming, and he knew she always felt better when they were done talking. But it took something out of him. And so did his acquaintances. He tried to build friendships but eventually those always became a burden. He didn't know why. He wanted life to be free and easy, with only the commitment of feeling, the commitments of the moment. Some day he knew things would have to change. Otherwise, life would become a circular limbo. But he was not ready to fall into line just yet. Not for a long time, if he could help it.
He was remarkably naive about sex, about attraction. Something did not compute in his brain. It went blank when a person stared at him with longing eyes. It went to other places. Often it would not dawn on him that a man or a woman was attracted to him, and when it did, it always didn't matter, somehow. He wasn't ready. He hadn't found the one. He was not sure he ever would.
There was someone in high school. A dark eyed boy who started talking to him in math class one day, who slowly became his friend. They did things together like going to the movies, going on hikes, sometimes having each other over for dinner. Caleb was blissfully unaware back then, too, until one night after a movie, in the dark eyed boy's car. The boy stared at Caleb when they stopped in front of his mother's house. He mumbled something about seeing Caleb later, but his eyes wouldn't leave Caleb's face. They were intent and serious. And then his hand reached over and slid across the inside of Caleb's left thigh.
Caleb hadn't known what to do. The dark eyed boy's hand crept higher, felt him up. The first touch to his private place. An immediate stiffening. The dark eyed boy felt his hard penis through the thick fabric of Caleb's jeans. The boy slowly unbuttoned him and leaned over. The shock of the wet mouth on his flesh, the gasp that issued from Caleb's lips. The dark eyed boy moved his head up and down a few times, and then Caleb's hips reared up and he was spending into the boy's mouth. Only awkwardness followed. And the awkwardness didn't go away. The dark eyed boy still looked at him that way when they were together but Caleb didn't know what to say or do. The friendship was never the same. They drifted apart and Caleb wasn't sure if it was because of the blow job or not. It probably was.
Of course he masturbated. Not to pornography. Only when he became aware that he had an erection, a need. He would lay back and pleasure himself, slow and languid, his mind closed to conscious thought and focused only on savoring the feelings of his body as they ascended toward the inevitable peak, the inevitable explosion. He had no schedule for masturbation, but followed his body's rhythms. Some weeks he did it often. Some weeks he didn't do it at all. Ebb and flow, the rising and falling tides, his body went with nature.
The leaves on the trees grew flaccid and scorched at the edges. Ground flowers burnt up in the hot sun, but the nights grew cooler and longer. Summer was nearly over. Caleb wore long pants again, jeans, and the fading year brought on a melancholy mood that was not good inspiration for painting. And he was restless. It had been many weeks since he'd gone out and danced, although he did little jigs to his stereo sometimes late at night. But at the dance club he would not have to worry about disturbing his neighbors. At the dance club he could really let loose.
So he went, on a Saturday night, dressed in simple jeans and t-shirt, as always. The place was the same. The people were the same, mostly. That was reassuring, he guessed. He got a beer, had a few friendly words with the bartender over his extended absence. And then he took a chug, set his beer down on a counter, and hit the floor. The songs were different, but the beat was the same. The boy fell right into it. Slow, sensual, his body moved with a rhythm of its own that seemed to only coincidentally match the rhythm of the music. Five songs, five slightly different dances. He went for his beer to quench his thirst, but it was gone. The man with the leather pants, and his friends, stood along the counter where it had been, and they glared at him.
It was no trouble to get another. But when he walked by with his new beer, in search of a counter that was further away, the broad hipped man walked towards him, and purposefully slammed into his shoulder while passing. The new beer fell to the floor. He could see the friends of the man laughing, but Caleb didn't wait for the man himself to circle back and confront him. He didn't need beer. He went back to the dance floor and lost himself in the music. He loved how loud it was, how it vibrated through his body and lit up his limbs and hips. The feeling, the expression pouring out of him were all that mattered.
How many songs? Caleb didn't know. He didn't count. He just moved and moved, his eyes open but barely seeing, his body conjuring up patterns and rhythms from within. It was the heat that brought him back to a sort of consciousness, the need to take off his shirt. He looked over at the counter, to where the leather pants man and his friends were standing. But they weren't looking at him. No one was looking at him. It seemed every head in the room was turned to the same exact spot, a spot behind where Caleb stood, but not far behind. He turned. He saw what all the eyes in the room were looking at, and his limbs were suddenly still, but his heart was not. It jumped in his chest.
There, on the little stairway that led down to the sunken dance floor, stood a magnificent man, of a height and muscularity that could not be ignored. His white tank top seemed to strain under the burden of the bulging but perfect symmetry of his powerful body. Jet black hair, short but somehow luxurious. A thick but sharply cropped beard that accentuated his powerful jawline. His eyes black, blazing as they caught the reflections of a thousand little lights that bounced and twitched off the disco ball. The man was looking directly at Caleb, and the man's lips curled back to reveal a dazzling smile.
He moved with what seemed impossible grace for a man so large, down the stairs, close to Caleb, and then he started to dance. There his grace gave out. He shifted from one leg to the other, raising up and setting down one of his great limbs each time, back and forth, back and forth, and that was the extent of his dance moves. The trance like quality that Caleb usually felt while he danced deserted him. His rhythm was thrown into disarray, and he had to think about what he was doing while he danced, something that had never happened before. The man was before him, moving in his slow, arrhythmic way, and Caleb found it difficult to move at all. He was entirely discombobulated. He could only look at the wondrous man and smile. The man leaned in, close to his ear. A deep, clear voice came, the words unintelligible to Caleb. He shook his head. He pointed to his ear. The man smiled more deeply, began to climb the stairs while beckoning Caleb to follow him. And Caleb did.
Past a multitude of envious eyes they went, out the door of the club, into the brick alleyway. The air was crisp, as if on edge because of the rapidly declining season. The man just stared at Caleb for a few moments, his dark eyes intense, inscrutable in the dim glow of the lamp lights. Finally, he smiled again, and extended his hand.
"I'm Alex," he said.
The low, rich voice. The firm but still gentle grip of his huge hand shaking Caleb's smaller one. The man himself, the size of him, the atmosphere he created just by being there, just by breathing. And Caleb's heart was hammering in his chest, and his insides percolated with feelings he had never known. His voice, when it came, was soft, breathy. He told Alex his name.
"Let's walk," Alex said.
They walked side by side, down the alley, and out onto the open sidewalks. Caleb was no dwarf but he felt so tiny with Alex. He would turn to look at him, now and again, and the effect was always the same, as if some supernatural force was entering into him, turning his thoughts to jelly. Barely aware of his legs, his arms, his feet, he stumbled on a curb, and Alex, like a flash of lightning, caught him. They were face to face. Caleb's breaths came fast, ragged. Alex leaned way down, his eyes fierce yet somehow warm. His lips came closer and closer, slowly descending onto Caleb's, and Caleb accepted him. A long, deep kiss. Caleb's chest was all lightness and flutters now, his mind mired in the most delicious fog. He could feel his penis straining against his underwear, against the thick fabric of his jeans, and he might have lost it, then and there, had not Alex pulled away.
"You're beautiful," Alex said.
"So are you."
"Will you come with me?"
"Yes."
Alex was very close as they walked now, a protective distance, and when they came to his car, he unlocked it and opened the door for Caleb before getting in himself. Few words were spoken, but at every stop light they turned to look at each other and gaze deeply into each others' eyes. It was steamy in the car. The windows were fogged over, and Alex had to keep wiping them from the inside. He turned into the underground car park of the most illustrious hotel in the entire city.
Again, he opened the door for Caleb, who was quite beyond thought, quite beyond words. An elevator took them up, and then a look of apprehension came into the Caleb's eyes. Alex took the boy into his arms and held him tight. The bell dinged for the 10th floor, and they stumbled out. Alex used the key card to his room, and let Caleb enter before him. He did not switch on the lights. It wasn't necessary. All of the lights of the city, spread out beneath them, seemed to peer into to the room like moonbeams, filling it with a soft glow that should have been comforting. But the boy trembled.
"You're afraid of heights," Alex said.
"Yes."
"You're safe with me."
He took Caleb into his arms again, encircled his lean body in a steadfast grip. The boy's heart beat against him, the boy's penis was stiff against his leg. The fluttering very slowly subsided. Alex seemed to sense when Caleb's apprehension subsided a little. He leaned down for another kiss, and there was no need to break it this time. His tongue darted out, found Caleb's teeth, and then the boy opened for him, pushed back with his own tongue, and they were making love with their mouths, with their tongues. A dance for two. Caleb suddenly gasped, tried to pull away, but Alex held him tight and kissed him with even more passion, and Caleb couldn't stop himself. His mouth fell agape, and desperate little under his breath gasps issued from his throat. Alex pushed Caleb back a little and plunged his hand beneath the waistbands of the boy's jeans and underwear, and took Caleb's ejaculating penis into a firm grip. Again and again it gushed seed, coating the cotton briefs in slick, gummy heat, coating Alex's fist, the tight grip on the spitting organ never wavering, and the boy just shuddered, shuddered and gasped, and when it was finally over, his blushing cheeks were mercifully concealed by the semi-darkness.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"It was perfect," Alex said.
He withdrew his hand, pulled Caleb close again, and kissed him fiercely, with rising passion, and he tugged off the boy's t-shirt, and Caleb was lifting up the man's shirt, and Alex shrugged out of it, and they were naked, chest to chest, skin to skin, and their bodies were both hot to the touch. Caleb pressed himself against the wilderness of dark hair at Alex's chest and stomach. It was a revelation to him, this man's body hair, the coarseness of it, the way it was both warm and scratchy against his own smooth skin. He shifted and curled himself into the man's body, an electricity rising between them, a crackling static. Alex bent down and plunged his tongue into Caleb's mouth again, and they were lapping madly at each other, drinking each other's saliva, tasting, understanding in a way beyond words, and Alex shoved Caleb's pants and undies down in one deft movement, and his hands fiddled with the boy's moist, still erect penis, and they traveled across his slender hips and took ahold of the firm, rounded little buttocks, pale and smooth in the glowing city light. Caleb's hands reached out tentatively, shaking a bit, and came to rest at the front of Alex's pants.
A breathless sigh. A sigh of disbelief. Caleb knew nothing of the bodies of other men, not really, but he knew what he was touching, that monstrous, hard lump that seemed to run endlessly down the man's leg, was not, could not be normal. His fingers dipped into the waistband of Alex's jeans, into his boxer shorts. The hair was thick there, the heat sweltering and steamy, and the penis, the cock was nothing less than a leviathan, and it was waiting to be released, and Caleb's trembling grew so much worse, and his hand against Alex's flesh made the big man moan. Alex shoved down his clothes as roughly as he had shoved down Caleb's, and he sprang free. All of him.
Caleb fell to his knees before the towering man, leaned back to take him in Alex's contours with his eyes, and it was a lot. Almost too much. Everything was massive, everything highlighted in the darkness by the stray beams of light from the city outside. Tree trunk thighs. Impossibly broad shoulders. Biceps like boulders, hands like sides of mutton. And there, in the center of him, below the flat, heavily ridged stomach, below the thick, swirling patch of hair, rose another appendage, a massive column of flesh, rising steadily, in fits and starts, its great hood slowly retracting to reveal the fat, glistening head. It was more than proportional to the giant man's body. So much more than proportional. Caleb lost his breath for a few moments in his astonishment. Then he leaned a little bit forward again until he could touch it.
Hot and silky, it flexed in response to the rhythm of the boy's delicate touches. Caleb moved his face closer as his fingers fell lower, found and caressed the man's hairy orbs, full, heavy, massive, but rising up with the stiffening appendage, and Caleb's hot little breaths whispered across the flesh and made the big man shudder some more. The heady scent, the powerfully male scent, invaded Caleb's nostrils and then invaded his mind. He swooned. He almost lost his balance. But Alex's hands came to the rescue again, first steadying him, and then lifting him upright again. The big man ran one hand carefully down the side of Caleb's body, and then he bent down with a swift movement and lifted the boy into his arms, and it was like nothing to him, no strain whatsoever, and he strode easily across the room and set Caleb down on a huge bed.
Alex lay down beside him, and they resumed their kiss, their hands roaming over each other's bodies. Light, tentative touches turning into caresses as Caleb grew bolder. He loved the feeling of the big man's hard, furrowed stomach, the sparse hair growing thicker, courser at the middle of his belly, the line of it leading up to the forest at Alex's chest. The man's touches on his own body were not so delicate. One hand moved over his taut belly and sent Caleb into the shivers, and then it went down and took his erect penis into a tight grip. The hand completely covered him, with room to spare. The firm strokes had him gasping for air again. Caleb traced his own way down, using the pattern of Alex's body hair as a guide, and then tried to take his penis in his hand as Alex had done for him, but he couldn't cover it with his own smaller hand. He couldn't even come close. It was a throbbing, burgeoning monster. Caleb could rub it but he could not grip it.
Yet his touches seemed to have the desired effect. The man grunted, deep, guttural, spurring Caleb to rub faster and faster still. He wanted it. He wanted the man's seed. To see it, to feel it erupting like a Vesuvius, a Herculaneum, just for him and him alone. But the man stopped him. The man pulled him up a bit, guided him to rearrange himself so their crotches were in each other's faces, and when Caleb was in position, the man dragged him on top of his mountainous body. Alex lifted him up a little by the hips, moved him so easily into position, then gently lowered him so that Caleb's stiff penis entered his mouth. The boy gasped. His hips were lifted up again, and released, up and down again several times, his penis a stick of granite, sliding in and out. He gasped and sighed so much that it sounded like babble. His penis sank inside faster and faster, and he was so very close to losing himself again when Alex lifted him up more firmly and pushed his body a bit lower, until his crotch was resting on Alex's chest. His penis, embedded in the wiry forest there, twitched and twitched, but the danger slowly passed.
The scent at Alex's crotch was richer now, sharper. Not foul, but definitely not sweet, it was the scent a man's body creates to alert others to his presence, to his power and his fitness to mate. Caleb's mouth fell open. It was like he was drinking the scent, growing intoxicated on it, and he was salivating heavily as if in response to something sour on his tongue, but it was only the smell of Alex's crotch that caused this reaction. He nuzzled the organ, rubbed it against his smooth cheeks, his nose, his chin. Nuzzled the heavy, fuzzy testicles, and saliva dripped from his mouth, and then he knew by that little trick of nature what his tongue was for because it lolled out of his mouth and mopped up what he had spilled, and he couldn't stop. His tongue slathered saliva all over Alex's balls, and then it trailed up to Alex's cock. He licked every inch, back and front, and then he came to the place where the helmet head emerged from the retracted foreskin. Salty, pungent, unmistakably male, that taste, and Caleb lapped greedily, concentrating in the one area as if it was a salt lick, until he felt Alex's hands forcefully pulling the cheeks of his rear end apart.
The tongue, when it found the spot, the softest, most private place on Caleb's body, changed everything. Wet, soft, textured, it touched down gently on Caleb's virginal orifice and that connection blew away all thoughts, all notions of what Caleb had once believed sex to be about. His body shimmered into life, into pure sensation, and his penis lurched in its furry nest. The deepest sigh of contentment issued from his lips, and then all was forgotten. The troubles of the world, the troubles of his life, everything. He couldn't even spare a thought for the huge, hard penis of Alex, so close to his face, so close to his lips. It went unattended. The muscles in Caleb's body fell slack, releasing all tension. Little waves, little lapping waves, liquid caresses, tingling and awakening something that had long lain dormant, something Caleb never knew was inside of him. The sharp hairs of the man's beard and mustache scratching against the tender skin of his nether parts only heightened the effect.
Gently, tenderly, thoroughly, the tongue lapped at him, teasing him open. Caleb's head lay sweetly on its side, resting on Alex's lower belly, rising and falling with his breaths, inches from his towering manhood. The man scent, ever present, washed over his nostrils, lulled him into a deeper state, along with the rhythmic waves of the tongue on his flowering orifice. Slowly, steadily he felt himself opening wider, accepting, welcoming, and it was no shock, not even a surprise when the thick tongue had teased the passage open enough to burrow inside. Caleb gave a breathy grunt. He wiggled his fanny closer so the tongue could bury itself deeper. Alex's hands remained firmly gripped to his bottom, keeping the cheeks well apart for maximum access to that place that had for so long escaped the attentions of men.
Lost in the waves of liquid sensation in his bottom, so skillfully administered by his conquering hero, Caleb barely noticed the rising sensations in his penis. It was stiff, growing stiffer, and it reached the stage of being painful, so tight and tense did it become, and then Caleb felt himself at the very cusp, at the very pinnacle of a needful reaction. His hips sparked into life. A few short, frantic thrusts, the delicate glans of his penis grinding into the coarse hairs of his lover's chest, and he exploded, straight into the maddening nest of fur and then across the hard, rippling flesh of Alex's upper belly. The force of his release wrung every drop from his young testicles, his nether flesh clamping onto the invading tongue like some squelchy sea creature strangling its prey.
The tension in Caleb's body subsided, but the tongue did not. It burrowed deeper inside and found a gentle rhythm, sometimes simply penetrating, sometimes pausing to tease and loosen specific muscles that surrounded it. The urgent need of release had passed and now Caleb could savor the lovely wet feelings as his body fell again into a state of deep relaxation. He lost track of time. His mind was free, and passed in and out of conscious thought. He felt safe and loved, and he didn't want it to ever stop. But eventually that tense feeling began to return. His penis again stiffened to the point of pain, and there was soreness there, too, for Caleb's penis hadn't been particularly active in recent days, and two orgasms, one soon after the other, and yet another erection on top of that were perhaps more than it was prepared to bargain with, but inside of him the feelings were welling up like an incoming tide. But then Alex's tongue pulled out and he pushed Caleb gently forward.
"You taste so sweet," Alex said.
"You too."
"Do you like what I'm doing to you?"
"Yes."
It came out as a breathy moan, the affirmation, and then Alex pulled him back onto his tongue. Alex was more ardent now, the tongue more forceful. Caleb's entrance was being worked over like salt water taffy, pulled and stretched and smeared, and yet it was still soothing, still somehow relaxing. His head again fell onto Alex's hairy body, and his mind went to that nebulous place of bliss. It seemed hours and hours that the tongue worked inside of him, and it was selfish but he didn't want it to stop, and Alex didn't seem to be interested in stopping, either. He grew ever more forceful, the tongue punching in and out, and the heat inside now scorching, and several times Caleb's penis grew so tight that he thought he would explode again. His back side was alive with feeling, wet and a little sloppy, and Caleb felt this growing need for the tongue to reach further inside of him. It started with a tickle and grew into an itch, and the tongue couldn't reach it and all at once Caleb realized what would.
He pulled away and turned around, and hopped back on, and just like that he was straddling Alex's immense body. Caleb pushed the giant cock back so that it was upright, and tried to sit on it.
"I'm too big," Alex warned.
"Please," Caleb whimpered.
"You'll hurt yourself."
"I need to try."
A quick motion. Alex stretched out his arm and reached for the drawer to the night stand next to the bed. A few moments later his slimy fingers were pushing into Caleb's anus. Cold and globby, the stuff adhered to Caleb's entrance, coated a few inches into his passage. Then Alex rubbed some of it onto himself.
"When it starts to hurt, you must stop," Alex said, in a stern tone.
"Okay."
Caleb took hold of the slippery beast and held it upright again, and then attempted to sit on it, as if that was all it would take, but it was like trying to fit a fire hydrant into a shot glass. To make matters worse, Alex was so long that there was no question of really squatting down on it. Caleb's legs were not even halfway bent when the cock head made contact with his opening. He pushed his body down as best he could, pressing as hard as he dared, but nothing happened, only the dull pain of too much pressure. Yet his hips were moving, almost gyrating, and the feeling of the head of that big battering ram against him sent him into shivers of excitement. He moved his body up and down in small motions, careful to keep Alex against his entrance. The cock rubbed and smeared his anus, and that felt good, and so he satisfied himself in this way for many minutes. And then, suddenly, the moment felt right. He knew not why, he knew not how, but he did know when to press himself down again, with some force, and the mighty cock head popped inside of him.
Pain. Sharp pain. Alex told him to stop. But he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. He moved gently up and down, refusing to relinquish his progress, yet unable to tolerate the uncomfortable stretching when he was still, despite the fact that the shaft of the cock beneath the head was even wider. He was rocking his body down on it, easing down in millimeter increments, and the stretching was outrageously uncomfortable, and his own penis had wilted down to nothing, yet there was an intense need inside that told him it would all be worth it, and Alex had been so generous with him already, and there was that to account for, too. Alex was not idle, but caressing his bottom and lower back, and Caleb felt warmer in his heart than he had in many years, and gritting his teeth, he bore down on the huge thing until he felt the hairs on Alex's balls tickling his fanny, and the immense pain, he thought, must be similar to what women feel when they give birth.
It was a stretching pain, a feeling of being so overstuffed that he might actually burst open, and if he thought about it too long he would be frightened, but his mind was not in command. His body was in command. Caleb did not rise up and free himself of the invading monster but waited out the breathtaking pain and convulsions until he could almost bear it, and then he started to move. Slowly up a few inches, then quickly back down, that was his rhythm, and it was all his legs were capable of, it was all his bottom could stand, and it was enough. Alex was groaning, deeper than ever, a low, rumbling body quake of noise, and he lifted himself up a bit and pulled Caleb down a bit until they could kiss, and his tongue exploded into the boy's mouth and his hot hands were all over Caleb's body. He pulled up even further, until he was sitting, and he pulled Caleb on to him, and then their bodies were as one, connected in every way.
Locked in this intense embrace, movement was restricted. Caleb's legs were wrapped around Alex's waist and he could gain little purchase with them, but they rocked themselves together and there was some movement and there was friction. Alex's hand snaked between their tightly pressed bodies and found Caleb's soft penis, tiny and retracted inside of itself, as if it was frightened. But the touches brought it roaring back to life. Never before had Caleb becoming erect so quickly, so intensely, but that was not all, for Alex had begun to thrust up into him, more gently than he desired, despite the potential for pain.
"Fuck me," Caleb whimpered.
Faster than it takes to tell, Alex took action. Caleb was flipped onto his back, and his legs were pushed back so far that his knees were at his ears, and never once did the giant cock slip out of his passage. Alex, grunting like a grizzly bear, pushed in and out, ever faster, ever deeper, and it was way too much. Caleb didn't even have time to grab his penis before he started to cum, and it was the most powerful release of his life, and his lungs released too, hoarse shouts of intense pleasure and pain, and he thought Alex would devour his lips, he was being kissed so hard, and the big man suddenly stopped pushing, but a little whimper from him escaped into Caleb's mouth and the mountainous body quaked with what Caleb knew to be release.
They were cumming together, Alex inside of him, he onto his belly, and nothing could ever be so perfect, so heavenly again. It was more than a revelation for the sweet, wild boy. His heart was thundering with passion, with love, just as surely as his penis thundered in such astonishing triumph, and everything about his body and Alex's body, and their bodies as they functioned together, felt right.
Their kisses grew slower and gentler, and Alex slowly disengaged himself from Caleb's body. The young man could feel the air that rushed in to fill the space Alex's cock had relinquished. He lowered his legs and Alex snuggled up beside him, and then they kissed again, for a long time, grateful, loving kisses. Alex pulled back after a while, and they just looked at each other's faces, up close in the moonlight.
"Will you spend the night?" Alex said.
"Yes."
But Caleb wasn't sure he would sleep. He hadn't slept in a bed with another person since he was a child, and didn't know if he would be comfortable with it. And his mind was full, reliving moments that had just happened, and alive with the possibilities of moments that were maybe yet to come. They were on their sides, facing each other, the lights from the city below still casting that comforting glow, and they held each other for a long time. Alex's breaths became slower and deeper, and soon he slipped into a light snore, and somehow that was comforting, too. Before he knew anything more, Caleb went under, and he slept like a baby. A baby with dreams of far horizons, sunflowers and love.
Sometime in the night he awoke. He had turned in his sleep, and he now lay facing the same direction as Alex. The big man was close to him, and his arm was draped over Caleb's upper body. Alex generated a lot of body heat. Maybe it was because he was so hairy. Maybe it was because he was so big. Caleb stirred a little, and that is when he became conscious of the huge and apparently very erect appendage that pressed against his bottom and ran up a considerable distance up his back. But Alex was asleep. Hard and hard asleep. It made sense, but it was frustrating. Caleb wiggled his fanny against the monster, then reached behind himself and petted it. That did something. Alex stopped snoring and his fingers moved lightly over Caleb's chest.
He spit into his hand, but it did little. Alex was too big to lubricate that way. But Caleb was determined. He lined it up as best he could. He pushed himself back, hard. He was still a little wet down there. The cock head popped inside, and he was surprised at the sudden pain. He thought that would be gone after the first time. He pushed anyway, but there was no progress. Then he felt the big man stretching toward the night stand and heard that funny sound when he squeezed out the slick stuff. Alex pulled out and then put some of the globby liquid inside. And he fiddled with himself, and Caleb hoped that meant he was putting it on his penis, too. A lot of it. He reached back to tell, and yes, slick as a slug. Alex helped him guide it in. It really hurt, that same over-stretched feeling. But life was full of pain, and rarely did pain bring such pleasure with it.
Alex pushed forward while he pushed back. Caleb knew the deal was done when he felt the scratchy hairs of Alex on his tender bottom. A feeling of pain and contentment. A feeling of being stretched for a good reason. He began to rock back and forth, began a slow ride. Alex's fingers were playing with his nipples. Alex was gentle. For a long time he didn't move at all, just let Caleb take as much as he could, at his own pace. But it did the trick.
"I'm not going to last," Alex said.
"Fuck me," Caleb said.
And then Alex wasn't so gentle. His thrusts were deep and fast. He was grunting. He was softly pinching Caleb's tits. The speed, the depth built toward a conclusion, and the pain was greater but so was the need to spend. Caleb grabbed his penis. A couple of strokes and he was there, exploding onto the bed, and Alex rode him hard until he stiffened and shuddered with his own release. A release that went deep inside of Caleb, just like he wanted, to join the release from before, and Caleb felt so happy that a man like Alex had blessed him with his seed twice.
Before the giant thing had even softened and withdrawn, Alex was snoring again. It was very warm and sticky everywhere, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was Alex's arm over his body and Alex's sperm swimming inside of him. He drifted off again and slept as easily as before.
The sun was high over the city when he woke again. Alex wasn't there, but he could hear the sound of a shower running, somewhere. The sun warmed the bed but Caleb thought Alex had left some warmth behind, too. He felt relaxed enough to fall asleep again, and almost did, but Alex appeared. He was wrapped in a white towel, and in the light of day he was even more magnificent to look upon than he had been in the night. His skin wasn't really dark, but in contrast with the bright white towel it looked so. Olive tinted skin. Caleb knew that was what you would call that tone. The contrast between his skin and the black, plentiful body hair was also striking.
"Sleepy head," Alex said, with a bright smile.
"What time is it?"
"Nearly noon. I didn't want to wake you. You looked like an angel."
"You have an accent!" Caleb said.
"Yes, little one, I do. Didn't you notice last night?"
"No! I guess my mind was on other things. What is your accent?"
"I am Greek. My family immigrated when I was ten."
"Wow. That must have been a culture shock."
"A little."
"You look Greek, now that I think about it."
"That's what people tell me. Are you hungry?"
Caleb shrugged.
"Well I am. Why don't you hop in the shower while I order breakfast?"
"Sounds like a plan!"
When Caleb came out again, there was a table trolley set with silverware and silver service plates. Alex was still in his towel, and Caleb thought that was funny. He wondered what the server had thought of such a sight.
"All ready. But why did you dress? I was hoping to see you in your towel."
"I could change."
"No, no. We'll save that for later. Let's eat."
Alex was already pulling the lid off of the service plates when Caleb sat down. There were scrambled eggs, sausages and potatoes, which Alex proceeded to pile onto his plate and Caleb's. It didn't take long before he was eating, but Caleb only picked at his food. He was still in awe of Alex, and his heart and stomach were aflutter. The big man was looking at him with a funny expression.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay, but don't hesitate on my account."
"It's not that."
Alex nodded and continued to eat, and when he was done, he eyed what was left on Caleb's plate with some longing.
"You want mine?" Caleb said.
"I really shouldn't."
"Don't hesitate on my account!"
A big smile spread across Alex's face.
"You really don't mind?"
"No! Be yourself."
That was all it took. Alex moved the full plate to himself and proceeded to devour its contents. When he was done, he pushed it away and wiped his mouth.
"So do you have any plans today, Caleb? Will you spend the day with me?"
"Aren't you sick of me yet?"
"Not even close! I want to see you in that towel."
"Want me to change?"
"Not yet. I wanted to ask you about last night. I got the impression that you weren't too experienced."
"No," Caleb said. "It was my first time."
"But how did you do it? I don't want to be a pig, but I'm really not built for first timers."
"You're huge! I don't know. I guess I just wanted it really badly. I'm not hurt but I am sore."
"That's to be expected," Alex said. "But you should have told me."
"Words didn't seem to matter."
"No," Alex agreed. "Last night was magical. What a gift to have been your first!"
"I never felt like that before," Caleb said. "I mean the way I feel when I'm with you. You're the only person I ever really wanted to sleep with."
"Come now!"
"No, it's true," Caleb said. "Well, mostly."
He giggled.
"I'm honored," Alex said.
Throughout this conversation, Caleb was trying to focus on Alex's words, but his eyes kept roaming over the large man's body. Hungrily roaming. He liked what Alex was saying but he was eager to move things along, to coax Alex into taking him again. It got to be too much. He finally told Alex that he would be right back, and excused himself to the bathroom. Inside it, he quickly stripped off, and wrapped himself in a towel. When he returned, Alex let out an appreciative whistle.
"Beautiful," he said.
Alex rose from his chair and they met in the middle of the room, where Alex leaned down for a kiss. Caleb surrendered his mouth and raked his fingers through the thick fur at Alex's chest. The kiss was transporting, but not as transporting as the kisses from the night before. Caleb was very eager. An almost greedy desire filled him with uncharacteristic impatience. His hand soon strayed lower, then lower still. He tore away his towel and Alex's towel, too, then went straight for the huge, burgeoning organ. His hands ran down the length of Alex's body as he lowered himself onto bended knees, coming face to face with the object of his desire. The big man's fingers laced into his hair and he gave a great sigh when Caleb's mouth touched down on him.
Caleb licked and caressed, licked and slobbered, but try as he might, he couldn't get much of it inside. They were mismatched. It was an impossible fit. But Caleb was eager to taste of Alex's seed. It became a challenge and a goal, but he just couldn't get much friction or rhythm going with the huge thing, and eventually Alex lifted him up again.
"I want to taste you so bad," the boy whimpered.
"That will come."
And then Alex quickly scooped Caleb up into his arms. Across the room they went, and they fell on the bed together, kissing the whole way, and Alex was on top of him, and he wanted Alex inside his butt even more than he wanted to taste him. Caleb wriggled and writhed, and snatched at Alex's cock, and the big man flipped him onto his belly like he was a feather. Even as Alex reached for the night stand, Caleb was wiggling his fanny against the cock, spurring the big man on. Before he knew it Alex smacked a handful of lube between his cheeks and started pushing the monster cock inside.
It hurt. Oh, did it hurt. Caleb was very sore and his body had retracted from its stretching the night before. But this time Alex was insistent. He pushed in slowly but with a sure force that overpowered the resistant muscles. It was not long before Caleb could feel the wiry crotch hairs against his smooth bottom. It itched and tickled, but the feelings were insignificant compared to the intense feeling of being stuffed to the limits of endurance. Would it ever be easy with a man built like Alex? Caleb thought not.
Alex covered him. Someone looking from behind wouldn't have seen Caleb's body at all. But that person would have known what was going on. It was the way Alex moved, that back and forth rhythm, the great muscles of the buttocks outlined with strain as he pushed in and pulled back, ever harder, ever deeper. He grunted as an angry bull grunts, through his nostrils. Caleb wasn't silent either, but moaned as demurely as he could. At some point it got easier. Caleb's muscles gave up the fight. And then it felt much, much better. The young man moved his legs further apart and hunched up his buttocks, making his body a saddle for Alex to ride.
The stretching, the grinding, that wonderful feeling when the friction reverberated at a certain spot inside of him. Caleb was barely aware of his own penis. He knew it was hard because he could feel it against the bed. He knew it was dripping because it felt moist and sticky. But these thoughts were fleeting. It was like his penis was beside the point. Unimportant. So very different from when he masturbated. So very different from that need to relieve himself. This was a need to share himself, to make himself a vessel for another man's pleasure and to soak up the pleasure that this particular man gave so effortlessly.
It hit him quite suddenly when he ejaculated. His penis, sandwiched between his body and the bed, spit and throbbed ferociously. It kind of hurt. It kind of felt like his best orgasm ever. A gift that Alex alone could give. The man was riding him pretty hard, riding him through the shock waves in his penis and anus, and he just kept spurting. He heard a strangled cry from behind, and then Alex slammed into him a final time and went still. In his mind, Caleb saw the giant cock inside of him, anointing his insides with gushers of fresh seed, and he was well and truly satisfied. Contentment washed over the boy and his mind drifted to sweet places he'd never seen with his eyes.
For a long while Alex was still. His cock stayed buried inside and he seemed reluctant to withdraw it. When he finally disengaged himself, he fell to the bed beside Caleb. He gave the boy a tender kiss and then lay back for a few minutes with his eyes closed. All that needed to be said had been expressed in their lovemaking. It gave Caleb an opportunity to watch him as he pleased. Mostly, he looked at Alex's face. A long, powerful face with a strong, straight nose, high cheekbones, and a square jaw whose lines were evident even under his black, close cropped beard. The lashes were black and thick, the lips not overfull but of precise outline. Everything about that face was hard and handsome, as if it was made to be sculpted. But the expression, in slumber, was serene, almost vulnerable. Caleb's heart burned with love.
Alex's great chest rose and fell at a slower pace. The man was falling asleep. For an instant Caleb thought he should leave. He had to work the next morning. His butt was very sore, and his penis only slightly less so. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he snuggled in close to Alex, and the heat from the big man's body lulled Caleb into a deep relaxation. His eyelids slowly fluttered down, and then he fell into a world of happy dreams.