Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones 2 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have comments send them to winarch47@yahoo.com
Sarge was a bit timid, but I knew that a hard cock is a good cure for timidity. Like his father he was uncut. His cock was a little longer and thinner than his father's tool. I licked his foreskin, and his cock began to inflate. As soon as the tip of his foreskin began to open, I caressed it with my tongue. I tasted a drip of precum. I wrapped my lips around the foreskin and pushed it back, exposing his entire cock head. When I caressed his knob with my tongue, Sarge moaned.
Sarge was built like his father and had a missing link aura. He looked crude, but cock was delicate and responded to every movement of my lips and tongue. They don't teach classes in cock interpretation, but I had a good idea of what Sarge was thinking and feeling. He was moving away from the world of every day worries and concerns. He was entering a world where his sole concern was to drain his seed into a warm, tight space. Somehow in the great scheme of evolution, it didn't matter if your cock was in a vagina, ass or mouth.
Connecting with a new man is always stressful. I sensed I was draining the his stress through his erect cock. He relaxed. I stood and he dropped to his knees. He was a good cock sucker, gentle but enthusiastic.
"Am I doing it right?" he asked.
"Oh yes, it's good," I replied. "I have to apologize to you in advance. I like cocks and you have a beauty. I love the stuff that drools and spurts from a cock. I'm happy sucking a draining cock. I confess, I'm not very kissy-kissy. Some guys like that and it takes a while for me to get into that," I said.
"That's fine with me," Sarge said.
"There is one exception. If your mouth is full of sperm, I get romantic. Sperm is sperm even if it's used."
"You've taken used semen?" he asked.
"Are you shocked?" I asked.
"I'm turned on," he said. "Bubba said you like to be fucked?"
I smiled. "I get the feeling your conversation with your dad got pretty detailed," I said.
"Technically Bubba's my uncle. His older brother got a girl in trouble. He was in the army and was killed in an accident. The girl was from a good family, and they hushed it up. Bubba said he was the father, so he raised me as his own. I look more like Bubba than his brother," he explained. "I couldn't have had a better father."
I got Sarge to fuck me. I had a sense that if he did me, he would be more willing to let me visit the insides of his ass. He was born to fuck a man. It was a perfect fit for me and for him. His cock was a little thinner than Bubba's and it went deep easily. I don't think he knew what to expect. My ass molded to his cock and the tight, warm contact with his cock surprised him. My sphincter gripped his cock, and his cock knew exactly what to do.
After five minutes he moaned, "I'm getting close!"
"Go as deep as you can and fill me up!" I said. Sarge had an extended climax. He was shivering and moaning for the first ten ejaculations. Eventually he calmed down.
"What do I do now?" he asked.
I squeezed my sphincter. I think he had another ejaculation. "Just pull out slowly. I will squeeze my ass and milk any remaining cum from your cock."
"Will it drool out?" he asked.
"My ass might dribble some," I said. "Some guys like to push it back in with their cocks. Some lick it up."
He pulled out slowly and pushed in again. I think he had a final ejaculation as he did. Sarge wanted me to fuck him. I told him I wanted fuck him to an orgasm, and since that he had already unloaded, it would be better to do it another day. He wanted more, but he knew I was right.
I wondered how long it would take him to call me. We had a major car accident in front of my office and rammed into the office two days later. No one from the office was involved, except to help the people in the car. That was good since the car burst into flame after they got the last people out.
The car had rammed the copy writers' office. The sprinkler system worked, but the windows blew out and it was a mess of water and soot. Tomas Everett, the president of the firm's father was an insurance broker, so the fire was just an inconvenience for us. Insurance agents were on the scene and hour later, with a building contractor.
I saw Sarge at work. Things were under of control. There were no serious injuries but quite a bit of hysteria. My best proofreader, Mrs. Dilbert had seen the accident. Mrs. Dilbert was both a terror and a blessing. She thought that a misplaced comma was a crime requiring the death penalty, but there had never been a grammatical mistake in anything sent from the office. She saw the entire accident and remembered every detail. The police loved her. A camera on a nearby building confirmed her account.
One of the guys in the rescue squad was taking pictures. I recognized him a Pete Peters, a free-lance photographer who often did work for the paper. He asked the president if he could document the damage in the building. Thomas told me to go along with him. Peter had been two years behind me in high school.
He wasn't impressive looking. That was ideal for a photographer. He faded into the background. He had experience of documenting fires for the newspaper and for insurance companies. He made sure to document the damage to expensive equipment, as well as structural damage.
When we were alone, he said in a whisper, "Sarge told me you had a good time the other night."
"I hadn't seen him since school," I said.
"I run in to him once and a while. It's nice when we do. He said he learned a lot from you," Peter said. "It's nice to broaden your horizons. We're in a rut here."
"Are you interested in broadening your horizons?" I asked. He nodded. "I can't promise I could get you out of the rut, but I might be able to stretch it wider." Peter smiled and went on taking photographs.
"Since this is a private business, I need to show you prints in case there are things that are confidential. Is there a good time for you to check them?" he asked. I told him I would be at home that evening. He seemed to know where I lived.
He arrived at eight with his laptop. I offered him coffee and looked over his photos. The photographs were beautifully composed and clear pictures of the damage. Nothing problematic was shown. Some PR agencies have spies for their competitors proposals. We have never had a problem since we pay well and recognize talent when we find it.
We talked a while and I finally told him that I assumed he was here for more than having me check the photos.
"I'm usually a careful guy, and I know I'm not everyone's type. I like to be able to leave without any embarrassment," Peter said.
"I'm a believer in no-fault sex. If things go well, that's great. If things don't work out, that's life." I said.
"Sarge and his pals are the only real sex I've had. It's all sucking, but no swallowing," he said. "Sarge told me you are more experienced. I would like that. I did take a single spurt from his cock once."
"Was that, okay?" I asked.
"I was surprised, but somehow I seem to think about it a lot," he said.
Nature took its course and ten minutes later we were naked in my bedroom. Peter had a gymnast's body, with a hairy chest. His cock looked oversized for his body. He was pale, but had a beautiful, oversized pink cock head and hairy balls.
Pete did not play hard to get. I almost got whiplash his cock got so hard when my tongue first caressed his knob. He was desperate to get fucked. I suggested that he sit on my erect tool. That gave him control. I told him I am not into other men's pain, and I loose me erection if I hurt a guy.
I told him there might an uncomfortable spot when my knob met his sphincter. I explained a tight sphincter is good once I'm in deep. Pete was a good sport and careful. He bounced some and I popped deeper into him. A little later the magic began. I don't think Pete knew what a prostate felt like when a hard cock rammed it. For a few seconds I thought he would pass out from the pleasure.
Pete also had good stamina. I told him that I was getting close and asked if he wanted me to christen him or did he want a close friend to breed him.
"Can I take your load and tell guys I'm still a virgin?" he asked.
"I've known some guys who claimed to be virgin for years," I said. He laughed and I shot off. A second later I felt him twitching as he shot off. After the ejaculations stopped, we rested. My soft cock was still in his ass. I squeezed my sphincter and he moaned.
"Damn, that's beautiful," he whispered.
"It will be better when an old friend's cock is spurting in you." I said. "I'm pulling out. Squeeze your ass to milk the last drops of man seed." He did as I asked, dressed and went home. He had discovered a new world of sexual pleasure. Over the next few days, I realized Gay men in my hometown had sex life, but they were isolated from anyone other than their closest friends. They thought they were alone and were unaware of the rest of the gay community.
Back at the office I had the copywriters and Mrs. Dilbert sharing my office. I, like everyone else in the office, was frightened and intimidated by her. I thought that having the office burned out by an exploding car would bother her. She was unflappable. For her the day before had been a good day, except for the fire and explosion. There was work to be done, the events of the day before were just a petty inconvenience. She was helpful, sensible and a problem solver.
The professional cleaners were at work, and a company called Pronto Construction was preparing to get to work. The construction superintendent, Bob Roberts, introduced himself to me. He wanted to know what level of inconvenience was acceptable to me since I was in the office next to the damaged area. While I had many meetings, I could schedule them in the president's conference room.
He said if any of his men made inappropriate comments, report it to him, and he would solve the problem. Foul language was not allowed, but sometime was a problem. Mrs. Dilbert said she understood that, but if someone indulged it in there had better be some fucking blood. Bob burst into laughter and then said, "I fully understand that Ma'am."
Pronto Construction had a good relationship with the Building Inspector's office, and Bob had an even better relationship with the Building Inspector. Bob discovered a major problem after clearing the debris from the office. The fire had been hottest at the exterior wall. The fire got into the duct on the edge of the room and damaged three floor joists. He immediately added temporary support to hold the upper floor in place. The repair work required welding and it was wisest to do that when the offices were empty.
They had to turn off the fire alarm system during the welding, I was going to be there to reassure the president the building did not burn down during the process. I was pretty sure Bob wasn't going to let that happen, but presidents are presidents.
I was surprised to find that Bubba Sanborn was the head welder. He obviously knew Bob and was the man he called for complex problems. I seemed like a complicated job to me, but Bubba seemed to have no problem with that. The work took six hours, but it caused minimal mess and no fire alarms went off.
All the workers left except for Bob and Bubba. They were chatting, and then came over to me. "We'll get the testing people over here on Monday to make sure the connections are solid," Bubba said. "I've checked them twice, but they use a scanner to check the areas I can't see." He leaned closer to me, and whispered, "Bob and I are old pals. I told him we had a little fun. He's up for it."
"He's a good friend?" I asked.
"We've been playing since high school," he replied. "Can we come by your place?"
"We all need a good shower I think," I said. I locked up the office and went to my place. Bubba and Bob arrived ten minutes later. We almost didn't fit in the shower. Bubba and Bob were big men. Bob was a white haired, slightly shorter version of Bubba. His cock looked thicker and shorter than Bubba's tool. We didn't talk much, but our cocks did all the communication we needed.
I tend to get the ball rolling sexually, but Bob mouth enveloped my cock making conversation unnecessary. My cock liked that a lot. A few minutes later, he looked up at me. "You're ready, aren't you?" he asked.
"Shit, my cock has given away my secrets again," I replied. "I take it you have no problem with cock drool?"
Bob stood. "Bubba says you like the cream, and you like to take it in your back door?" Bob asked.
"That right," I said.
"I want to fuck you too," Bubba said.
"You know what his means?" I asked. They looked puzzled. "One of you gets to fuck me. The other gets to fuck me using his buddy's cum as lube." Both men smiled.
They were big men, and I am smaller, but they were careful. The didn't want to brake me. We used lube generously and Bob got in deep quickly. After ten minutes he asked, "You really want me to unload in you?" I told him yes. He was already ejaculating. When he pulled out, Bubba entered. His cock was bigger than Bob's, but Bob had a massive orgasm and that provided extra lubricant. Bubba had a massive orgasm five minutes later.
When Bubba pulled out Bob re-entered me. No one said it, but Bob wanted to feel Bubba's cum against his cock. I had a feeling Bubba and Bob were not just casual playmates. When Bob shot off a second time, I shot off and Bubba was able to take my load. I had a feeling that neither man admitted those feelings, and that both men were better about expressive their feelings with sperm rather than in words. We showered again and they went home. It was a good night for all of us.
I had a business trip to meet with a potential new client in Philadelphia. Mrs. Dilbert took over the construction supervision. It turned out that her late husband had been a carpenter, so she knew about construction. She also got along with Bob, and baked cookies for the workmen.
In Philadelphia I was doing research on a large tech company that was looking for a new, fresh PR consultant. The founder of the company had very public marital problems and it needed to focus public attention on its core business, not the founder's poor taste in women. I had a chance to call an old college friend, Larry. Larry was now moving up the corporate ladder in a major bank. Larry was handsome, well dressed and very self-assured.
Larry always had admirers and he was sexually generous. That was exciting to me when I was a nineteen-year-old all but virgin. He had an older friend who guided his career. He always tended to meet older men who could help him professionally.
We reconnected and the sex was almost as good as it had been. Larry didn't shoot off. He told he it was nice to be with a guy who he didn't have to please. Apparently, he was saving his load for special friend he was meeting later. With me it was plain old sex. Larry was smart and handsome. For him sex was an extra tool he used to get ahead.
When I got home, I realized that my new, older friends were not steppingstones for advancement. While we all used each other to get off, it was for mutual enjoyment not to gain some sort of advantage. I never thought of sex as a 50/50 situation. It was balanced but varied. I never kept score. Sometimes you give more and sometimes you get more than the man you are with.
Back at the office, Pronto Construction was true to its name. They were fast. They charged top dollar to get the job done quickly. A burned-out part of our office was not part of our corporate image. Being damaged in an accident was one thing. Entering our office past fire damage for months was another.
A few weeks after the building was finished, I ran into Bob at a hardware store. In the parking lot he mentioned he would like to get together again. I asked if he had some spare time now. He said he would like that, but he was meeting a friend in a park. I asked if his friend might like to see my apartment. Bob though his friend would like that.
A half hour later Bob and his friend were at my door. The friend was Wallace Farmer, the music director of a local choral society. Wallace was a hyper-active effeminate type man who could work miracles with his singers. Everyone assumed he was gay but there wasn't a whiff of gossip or rumor about him.