This is a sexually explicit work of fiction meant for mature readers. Any resemblance between these characters to a living (or dead, I suppose) person is purely coincidental. All rights to this story are retained by the author, who welcomes your comments.
copyright (c) 2002 JRoyale
Three days passed without the invitation appearing in my mail slot before I faced the painful reality -- I'd been snubbed! Just about everybody who was anybody at our plant got an invite to the wedding of the year but I had been quite deliberately, I surmised, excluded from the nuptials. And all because I was openly gay...and the groom was hiding his true sexuality behind a certificate of marriage. At least, that was my belief.
My name is Rex -- yeah, I know, big macho name for a full-time queer -- and I'm thirty-six years old. Never was married, never had a girl friend, never copped a feel and never wanted to. Hell, I've never even seen a pussy up close! I'm into guys one-hundred percent and always have been as far back as I can remember -- back to the sandbox days when little Danny Kreymore and I first showed each other our "pee-pees". Don't quite know how things ended up this way. Last I heard Danny was a stressed-out businessman with a Bible-thumping wife and two kiddies -- both girls -- while I went on to be an insatiable cocksucker! Seems to me like I got the better end of the deal!
Don't get me wrong; my life isn't one continuous string of one-night stands -- anymore. I've had at least three "meaningful" relationships that were great while they lasted, until the spark fizzled out for one reason or another. Usually it was because I got a taste for something fresh and new. My first lover actually caught me in the act with a fifteen-minute fling at a pool party of a mutual friend and raised all kinds of embarrassing hell before tearing away -- and out of my life -- in the supercool Jaguar we'd purchased jointly (and he ended up keeping). There'd have been a hell of a lot less drama if he'd just dropped his trunks and joined us. That kid who had cruised me poolside was nineteen, cute as hell and had lips that went everywhere! I'm sure he'd have had no objections to a three-way in the pool house. Needless to say, it was quite some time before I was invited to any more straight functions.
Not that I try, but I could easily pass in the hetero world. Any degree of those stereotypical gay characteristics are pretty much lost on me. Only reason I can come up with is that in my pre-pubescent, formative years I found myself attracted to all the tough, macho guys -- so naturally that's who I tried to emulate. You'll be more apt to find me in a stadium watching a ball game than in the theatre suffering through opera (although, I confess, my binocs are generally trained on the athlete's jock).
I also spend anywhere from eight to ten hours a week at the gym which is conveniently located en route from work to home base. As well as helping to keep my bod lean and mean, the gym is a great place to cruise the hard bodied eye candy -- especially in the locker room. My lusty eyes never rise above the waist level in the domain of naked male flesh, which has led to some pretty interesting offers. You'd be surprised how many straight married men have no qualms about getting their dick sucked by a macho-looking queer like myself.
I'm exactly six foot tall with short, dark brown hair, hazel eyes and 230 pounds of meaty musculature on my well-kept frame. The back, arms and shoulders are big and strong from the heavy lifting I do twice a week with the help of whatever hunky spotter I can attract. My nicely curved pecs sport a light dusting of hair which travels down the center of my flat belly, leading to the thick nest in my jock. I'm not one of those dudes who snips, trims or shaves. I like having a healthy bush...heck, it helps fill out my already strained pouch...and I know the sex was really, really good when next morning he's picking hairs from between his teeth.
My lower bod's not bad either. With all the squats I do, my ass damned well better look good. Those firm, rounded cheeks of mine pretty well fill out the seat of my pants and have virtually no jiggle when parted by masculine hands. Not that I've ever tried, but I bet I could rip out a tongue -- or a cock -- by flexing those strong butt muscles. Even my legs are adequately beefed up; I'm not one of those dudes who works out only one part of the bod and neglects the other. A total package is what captures the admiring eye. Besides, leg extensions and calf raises leave my eyes free to cruise the gym-buffed studs sweating it out in the pec deck directly across from me. If there's a dude punishing his pecs 'til the damned nipples look they're gonna pop off, I have no other choice but to remain seated working my thighs -- unless I want to get up and have everyone see the semi-hard pressing against the front of my Nike shorts. Lust alone is what created my corded leg muscles, thighs of steel and heavily etched calves.
I'm making myself sound like some kind of ripped bodybuilder, which isn't entirely accurate. I'm not THAT defined! But my physique is damned good for a man of thirty-six and I intend for it to look this hot at forty-six -- even fifty-six, if I can. Pumpin' iron and checking out other muscle jocks is second nature to me and always will be.
Kind of got off track with this story a little by boasting about my eye-catching physical attributes but I thought you should have a mental picture of the kind of guy I am. Anyways, as I was saying, I failed to make the guest list for Shawn Riley's wedding. Shawny was twenty-eight years old and had been working at the plant since he was just a kid of sixteen. He was the part-time office boy gofer until he turned eighteen and then he was moved down to the sweat box with the rest of us manual laborers. The big boss liked the wise-cracking, smart-ass Irish kid, which is the only thing that got him through those first couple of years. But when he was moved into production, the boy turned out to be a hell of a good laborer and managed to keep the crew in good spirits with his dirty jokes and mischievous actions. I swear he must have been voted class clown in high school because the kid was always pulling off one kind of prank or another!
With his easy going, likeable personality it came as no surprise to anyone in the company when Shawn was advanced to a supervisory position a few years back, overseeing the rest of the laborers. And, still, he was well-liked by most everyone, probably because Shawn had no qualms about stripping down to his tank top and toiling right alongside his subordinates to get the job done. By this time I had been promoted to a desk job in administration, but when the going got tough I hung up my dress shirt and flexed some muscle down in the sweat shop along with the others. Not that I was all that dedicated to my fucking employer, mind you. Rather, I'd had a crush on Shawn ever since I first laid eyes on him and secretly hoped that one day I would be the one to "bring him out".
When he first started with the company Shawn was a tall, slim, almost skinny kid with straight, longish chestnut hair parted dead center. He also had an unblemished youthful complexion and the sexiest pair of sky blue eyes framed by long, almost feminine lashes. Those eyes literally twinkled when he smiled, the dimples in his cheeks deepening and his even, pearly white teeth sparkling. Like I said, the kid was reed thin at the beginning so his handsome face was all sharp angles and planes. As the years went by, Shawn filled out quite a bit, but he was one of those guys who would always have a long, cool frame and zero percent body fat. I seriously doubt his waist size increased even one inch, but the hard labor built up his upper body and added some decent musculature to his once scrawny arms. When he'd stop in the air conditioned office at the end of the day in his white tank T-shirt, I appreciatively drank in the perspiration-slicked exposed hard male flesh and the jutting peaks of his dark nipples reacting to the sudden coldness. Glancing my way he would don his street shirt, slowly and deliberately buttoning it up half way while his eyes remained fixed on me before finishing his final business and saying his good nights. The fuck was teasing me, I knew it. And I appreciated it. It was a ritual every day; I eagerly anticipated quitting time knowing full well he'd walk through that door in his T and lock those beautiful blue eyes with mine.
Normally with guys who came on to me in such a fashion, we'd have been locked in the semi-private bathroom at the end of the hall before now, but Shawn was something different. Like I said before, the young buck was a huge jokester; he was quite obviously playing off on whatever it was he'd heard about me. I wasn't all that old that I couldn't see the smirking from the two girls in the office as they watched Shawn's deliberate tough-guy tease of me, the well-renowned semi-macho, yet mucho-salivating "fag".
I wasn't the only one he toyed with; this guy goofed on everybody at one time or another -- and it was all meant to be taken in good, clean-cut fun. Only problem in my case was that the little hunk was turning me on to no end, and there wasn't a fucking thing I dared do about it. I'd spent many a sleepless night plotting alternate strategies to seduce the young stud...and many, many more contemplating if I really should. The sexy stud muffin was fairly vocal in his negativity towards homosexuality (although, like many other straight men I've known, the thought of two women making it together was a turn on), but he never EVER made any personal affronts towards me. Rather, he was fairly respectful, most especially during those rare times we were alone together. In fact, he seemed a trifle sheepish, as though he were nervous and uncomfortable -- or could it be a latent, suppressed desire? With an audience, he always had a wise-crack; alone he was like a shy, little boy. I fell even more in lust with him at those times!
His verbal opinion about "queers", "fags", "fudge-packers" or whatever other terminology he chose to use were always highly exaggerated -- as were the rest of his macho attributes -- which is why my "gaydar" originally set off its alarm. There was SOMETHING about the way he smoked a cigarette that was almost TOO James-Dean-ish, something about his bouncy, stalking walk that was more like a thug from the Lords of Flatbush; something about his otherwise crystal clear, perfect pronunciation which at will was delivered in a deep baritone; something about nearly all his mannerisms with SCREAMED of imitation. It was as though he'd spent his youth observing every macho image that came across his path -- or impressed him from the movie screen -- and made himself a collective parody of all those macho, tough guys. He had the obligatory chain fastened from belt loop to wallet, the worn work boots, faded and deliciously shrunken in all the right places blue jeans and that stunned, almost stupid-looking expression that even further endeared me to him (I imagined that look as I sunk my hard-on deep in his virgin ass). Wondering why he'd practiced his act so close to the point of perfection, I surmised that he was attempting to cover his forbidden interest in male sex.
I'd wanted to test my theory ever since the guy reached the age of consent, but for one reason or another I never took that ultimate plunge. Maybe it was the thought of the unpleasantness which might occur if he should change his mind at the last moment; which means I'd just have to tackle his ass and rape him 'cos I'd be so sexed up after the extensive foreplay. Maybe it was not wanting to create problems at the work place; let's face it....I had a lot of years into this company and a good pension going on. Maybe, and more than likely, I was really getting off on his little flirtations -- the office skin show, the way his hand brushed against mine when he handed me a folder, the way his knee touched mine under the lunch table, spreading those same legs widely apart seated straight across from me at staff meetings while fixing his eyes with mine the entire time or the secret longing emanating from those beautiful puppy-dog eyes as he glared at me. By Jove, I had accepted his studly pussy conquests, of which he loudly boasted (deliberately, I felt, in my presence) just as I grew acclimated to my role in his life, existing just on the outside of his repressed sexuality.
So indeed I was a little surprised -- and more than a little miffed -- when I was excluded from his wedding. I was all right to tease and joke around with, but God forbid he should hazard raising any eyebrows by inviting the gay co-worker he'd known for the past twelve years to share in his big day! Mostly out of embarrassment I avoided revealing Shawn's slight to any of the others, hoping against hope that he wouldn't take it upon himself to reveal his deliberate snub and make me look even more like an asshole than I already felt. During those first few days after the invitations had gone out Shawn could barely bring himself to look me in the eye. I considered cornering him and privately having it out -- at least to gain satisfaction from unveiling his motives. Maybe it wasn't his doing, after all. Maybe his intended bride scratched my name off the guest list. What could they possibly think I would do to mar their wedding? It's not like I'm the type of gay to show up in an evening gown and tiara and blow the father of the bride in the john, for crissakes!! (Perhaps the best man...) Ultimately, I decided that any altercation would appear to be some pathetic plea for inclusion, so I opted to stew in my own self pity and spend the afternoon of Shawn's wedding in the downtown adult cinema sucking as much cock as I could possibly handle (and that's a LOT of cock!). I would wash away my misery in a sea of spent semen -- and hope the bride started her menstrual cycle on the wedding night!
Nothing wrong with some wishful vengeance!
During these last few days just before the weekend when Shawn would become a married man, the stud returned to his playful self around me. Even more so than usual. He was back to wearing his tight, sweat-stained tank top -- only now he didn't even bother to cover up with a dress shirt when he came to our offices. Leaning across the counter on his youthfully muscular forearms, his sultry eyes cast down my body -- brazenly giving me the once-over from head to toe and then back again. Certain the girls were otherwise occupied, he glided his wet tongue along the contour of his pink lips. As much as I wanted to remain angry with him, my cock stirred and thickened in my pants. One of his hands ducked behind the counter as he continued to stare at me through half-mast eyelids, quite obviously groping himself! My legs went weak and mouth went dry; I wanted to leap across that fuckin' counter and nail the stud-muffin right there. In fact, I found myself advancing on the counter...advancing on him! Just when I was within arm's reach of the tall, hot hunk, a shit-eating grin spread across his face -- those devilish dimples deepened and his blue pools sparkled with delight. Straightening, he playfully slapped my left bicep and jovially boasted," How you been doing, buddy?" The spell was broken; he had toyed with me once again!
That wasn't all, though. The next few days were filled with random encounters and deliberate, longing looks from the tease. Passing in the hallway without conversation, he kept his gorgeous eyes trained on mine and muttered "Stud!" as he came abreast of me, continuing on his way without a backwards glance or another word. For the first time in months, he sat right next to me in the cafeteria, deliberately rubbing his jean-clad thigh against mine under the table while conversing with the other workers seated across from us. The younger buck was sending me signals as though he wanted me; knowing the rules of his game didn't make his flirtations any less enjoyable. Quite the opposite: I was becoming hornier and hornier for him! Don't know how much cock-teasing a grown man is supposed to take, but I was well past the breaking point. Had we run into each other in the company bathroom, I think I might very well have overpowered the wise-cracker, ripped open the set of his pants and shoved my leaking cock right up his tight, virgin asshole as he struggled in my strong grip. You see, I decided some time ago that in a battle of brawn I could manage to "take out" the younger buck -- with a little effort, of course. Even job security was no longer an issue; the way this hot fuck had been cajoling me I was pretty self-assured I'd emerge victorious with the human resource review board. Never had I entertained thoughts of man-rape, but years of Shawny toying with my hormones had me over the edge and ready to prove who the real "man" amongst us was.
As luck would have it, I never had to resort to violence; events took quite an unexpected and highly pleasurable turn two short days before the cutie's wedding.
Shawn was less animated than usual on that particular Thursday. We all figured it was a case of nerves, being that his life was about to take a major turn when he uttered those two entrapping words. Everybody tried like hell to lighten his mood, but Shawny was too visibly distracted with his pre-nuptial jitters -- or so we assumed. He was taking the next day off (probably so he could nervously chew his nails in private) so this was the last day we'd spend with Shawn as a single, independent man. He stopped by the office as usual at the end of the day and disappointed me by not even offering his usual shirtless pose. Everybody wished him well; as it turned out, I was the final one to extend congratulations -- me, the one who'd been snubbed!!
He took my extended hand and I gripped his calloused palm tightly -- more tightly than a normal friendly shake, subconsciously exhibiting my superior strength, I guess. Blinking those long lashes, he refocused those smoky blue orbs on my own hazel irises and then looked to my thick, pouting lips. The look was one of unmistakable longing and smoldering desire, as though he were about to lean in to me, plant his lips over mine and initiate a slow, seductive kiss. My cock twitched excitedly at the prospect, even though I was waiting for the typical "Shawn antics" to take over. But in that all too brief moment, so brief that it went unnoticed by everyone in the office, he didn't crack that wise-ass grin or in any way cheapen the moment for me. Rather, he was leaving me with a mental image to more-than-adequately feed my masturbatory fantasies about the two of us.
Leaving the building, my thoughts were all of young Shawn. Another potential lover gone, victim of the straight world's marriage-go-round! I was convinced, now more than ever, that the young man harbored repressed feelings of homosexuality. Damn me straight to hell for not having successfully brought his sleeping sexuality to the boiling point! Or had I? Perhaps his remorse today had nothing to do with the impending nuptials; could there be a sexual war waging within Shawn's trim, desirable body. And might I, the hunkiest gay stud he knew, be at the root of his indecision? Shaking my head, I grinned at my overactive ego. Time to move on; forget about my twelve year obsession and find myself another, more attainable, stud muffin. There are plenty of them with tender, yielding bodies and oozing, suckable cockmeat. Yes indeed, I decided as I crossed the parking lot to my sports car purposely located at a far corner of the lot, while Shawn attended his ritualistic bachelor's party tomorrow night I intended to have a party of my own -- a hot, ball-drenching sex party with every cute thing I could find in attendance.
I was so preoccupied by my own thoughts that at first I failed to notice the blue Dodge 4X4 backed in next to my set of wheels, driver's sides abreast each other. Shawn was slouched low in the seat behind the wheel, one naked arm dangling down outside the window with a lit cigarette pinched between his fingers. With his other hand he was drumming the beat of whatever rock 'n roll song played on the compact disc against the steering wheel, carefully watching my advance. My heart was in my throat. He hadn't parked there this morning. The sexy stud must have claimed this spot only a few minutes before. Quite obviously he was waiting for me.
Swallowing the lump in my suddenly dry throat, I stepped in between both vehicles and halted facing his open window fumbling with my ring of keys for the proper one. He had lost his shirt and was relaxing in his T-tank.
"Thought you would have been long gone by now," I managed to sound nonchalant, as if his being there hadn't fazed me in the least. At first he didn't respond. With those icy cool eyes fixed on me, he slowly brought the cancer stick up to his lips and took a deep drag. Holding the smoke deep in his lungs, he slowly and seductively let it out in a sweet-smelling trail that washed over my face. Expertly flipping the cigarette around on his fingers so that the filter faced away from him he silently offered it to me. Now, I'm only a casual smoker but there was no fucking way I was going to turn down an offer from this young super stud. But instead of taking the butt from him, I leaned in and put my lips on the filter as he held it out for me and took a drag. Our eyes never once broke contact during the exchange, although his widened slightly at my bold move. As I released my stream of smoke, he purposely returned the cigarette to his fine, juicy lips and took the final drag before tossing it to the pavement. My cock was getting awfully hard in my slacks.
"Wanna pick up a six pack?" he asked, those heavy-lashed blue eyes all smoldering sexuality.
"Sounds good. My place?"
He hesitated only for a second or two, but long enough for me to fear the latest game was over. "Your place."
It takes twenty minutes to drive to my town house but, stopping for the beer, we were close to half an hour before pulling into my lot. My fucking cock was throbbing the entire trip. In my wildest dreams I hadn't anticipated the day ending like this! Once inside, Shawn sat his fine ass down on my sofa, popped a beer and proceeded to drain it in a few long swallows. Swiping his lips with the back of his hand, he proceeded to open another while I sat myself down on a nearby easy chair, not even halfway done with my first.
We engaged in a bit of stilted small talk about everything from the job to his impending marriage, although the subject of my nixed invitation never was raised by either of us. After a while the beers helped him to relax and he slowly became the animated young jokester I had come to grow and love. He was pretty impressed with my place and got up to select a CD from my collection and pop it into my player while I went upstairs to slip out of my work clothes. When I returned in a pair of shorts and tank top of my own, the room was filled with a nice jazz melody. He appreciatively took notice of my strong arm muscles, leading into a discussion about weight lifting and body sculpture.
Somewhere around the fourth beer the conversation took a decided turn. Shawn was definitely loosened up, although he didn't look or act like he was loaded. He had his head resting back on the sofa, eyes staring unseeing up at the ceiling and taking in the melody from the stereo. His jean-clad legs were deliciously widespread and his hands were tapping out the tune on his nice thighs. Neither one of us had said a word for a few minutes until Shawn refocused.
"Suck a lot of cock?" He'd finally managed the words he'd been struggling for through all our cheap small talk. He was peering, it seeming, right through me -- uncertain how I might respond.
"Hey, what can I tell ya?" I shrugged dramatically, observing the wheels turning in his mind and secretly pleased he had broken ground. "I know what it takes to get a guy's nuts off."
His mischievous blue eyes twinkled and a broad grin spread across his still-boyish face as he stretched his arms across the back of the sofa. "I just bet you do, you sleazy cocksucker, you." He wore a cocky expression as he tilted his head slightly to the side, eyes squinting almost conspiratorially as he asked, "Ever do anybody on the job?"
I'd had twelve years of learning Shawn's hook and bait routine and wasn't about to let the handsome hunk charm me into any damaging confessions. With a sly smile, I mysteriously replied, "A few."
For a few second there I thought the hottie was going to have a seizure or something. He sat bolt upright at attention, an incredulous look etched across his mug. "NO SHIT! Who?"
Shaking my head, I responded, "No way, dude! I'm not the type to suck and squeal. But let me tell you, you'd soil your undies if you knew about some of the dudes I've done. You've worked right along side some of them." I rather liked the way his jaw sort of dropped; for a change I was the one being the tease.
"Hot fuckin' damn!" he exclaimed, taking another swig of his beer and falling back against the sofa, widespread legs stretched out in front of him. "I thought you were the only queer...I mean, gay guy...I mean, you know what I mean...I thought you were the only one there."
I raised a brow, my memory searching. "Far as I know, I am."
He leaned forward again, that adorably stupid look on his angular face. "Wha........? What the fuck! Are you sayin' you sucked straight cock? HOLY SHIT, MAN!!!"
Boy, was I ever enjoying feeding my bait to this big fish, titillating his imagination with fragments of information. I knew there was a smug, satisfied look about me as I took a little trip down memory lane, one hand tracing a path up and down my big bicep. "Sucked them, ate their holes, drank their cum, took 'em up my ass and sometimes -- not all the time, but sometimes -- got a piece of hairy ass myself!"
The wise-cracking prick was speechless for a change. I'd just recounted everything he probably ever dreamed of doing if he could just break through and completely explore his sexuality. My cards were laid out on the table; I don't know what more of an invitation I could have given him.
A self-satisfied smile played over my lips as I watched his hand absently grope at his stuffed crotch. His words came slowly, almost shyly. "I-I've always wondered what it would be like...to have, you know, another guy....get me off."
I was out of my chair and seated right next to him before poor Shawn had the chance to take another breath. When opportunities like this come knockin', you don't wait around. Sliding my hand under his own, I squeezed the big bulge in the crotch of his pants. Shawny was hard as rock! He tried to move his hand away, but I covered it with my other, forcing him to help me rub the erection burning through the faded denim of his jeans.
Shawny's baby blues were all glazed over, like he'd fallen into a trance and the hot stud broke into a sheen of nervous perspiration. "I-I don't think I sh-should be doing this," he almost whispered, bottom lip quivering excitedly.
"Don't think about what you SHOULD be doing," I selfishly advised. "Think about what you WANT to do -- what you've ALWAYS wanted to do!"
He didn't try to stop me as I fumbled with his zipper and exposed the sweaty white of the young fuck's briefs. Funny, but I had taken him for one of those boxer babes, although I was pleased to see he preferred the firm fit of standard Fruit of the Loom briefs. I wrapped my fingers around his nicely sized package and began massaging him through the thin cotton material. Shawn's hand moved back and forth along my working wrist, almost as if he were jerking off my forearm. Sure wished he had instead decided to do the same inside my heated shorts, because my own big boy was throbbing with pent-up lust and already leaking sizeable amounts of pre-cum.
I had my other hand on his flat lower belly, my fingers slowly trailing the growth of light brown hair that expanded into his jock. Dipping under the hem of his briefs, I reached into the sweaty confines and easily found his cocked young gun. He burned hotly in the grasp of my hand, naked flesh on naked flesh, as I slowly gave him a nice introductory pumping. Yanking down his briefs, I hauled out his silk-covered, cum-filled, sweaty ballbag and roughly kneaded it in the palm of my hand. I stroked him a few more times until I felt a sticky wetness run between the spaces of my busy fingers and saw that his sweet, mushroomed dickhead was heavily oozing stud-juice.
Being the kind of guy who doesn't like to let one dollop of sauce go to waste, I leaned over his steamy crotch and started licking his perfectly shaped crown. After lapping up all the salty pre-cum I ran my tongue all around the thick purple ridge and covered his sensitive cock head with long, dog-like laps. Wanting to really get at him, I tugged the waist of his pants with both hands. Shawny pitched in by raising his butt off the sofa and lent two helping hands in dragging his jeans and briefs down around his ankles. I went to work on his healthy young cock, sucking him deeply into my mouth and riding up and down at least half of his hard length. One hand was wrapped around his thick shaft, feverishly stroking the wet stalk as I fucked him with my sloppy face. Grasping hold of his ball bag and pulling down, I succeeded in forcing his beautiful dick to stand almost perfectly upright. The dude had a great cock, just as I'd always known he would have -- and I wanted to eat every fucking inch of it! Slowly and deliberately, I went down on him. My lips pouched out again and again as I traveled down his wet shaft, swallowing more and more of him until his meat was throbbing way down in my throat and my nose was tickling his ball bag. In this position I couldn't see him, but the load moan which escaped his lips was unmistakable!
I milked him with my hot, deep throat for a long while until I thought I was gonna suffocate on dick. Coming up off of him, I took a look at Shawny as I stroked his sloppy wet beefsteak and nearly blew a load myself. He looked so fuckin' sexy slumped back there in the cushions of the sofa, observing me through heavy eyelids with succulent lower lip jutting out and mouth hanging provocatively open while he clawed at the arm rest with one hand and tugged at his T-shirt with the other. He'd cut off his long hair years ago and now sported that trendy buzz-cut almost down to the scalp along the back and sides and longer on top. Shawny must have had a pretty good stylist, because his was tapered just right so that the fuller, baby-fine hair naturally spiked out on its own accord and literally bounced atop his head when he strutted. He was fond of running his fingers through his top hair, pushing those fly-away strands from his usually sweaty brow. The fine texture of his shiny hair hinted at the unavoidable fact that he'd probably be bald by forty but, even then, I didn't think it would detract from his abundant animal magnetism.
Since it was well past 6 P.M., we were both sporting a bit of bristle on our jawlines. Of the two, I knew mine closely resembled the much-touted five o'clock shadow, whereas Shawn's light-colored facial hair more resembled a pattern of bristles breaking out from under his pink Irish skin. Do I even have to tell you how fuckin' much I wanted to rub my face against his or to feel the bristle of that chin deliciously tickling my ball bag as he sucked my joint? Shawny had one of those "soul patches" -- a manicured rectangular plot of hair right under his chinny-chin-chin that could very well set my nuts a-churning! Dark, sweat-caked tufts of hair poked from under his armpits, looking mighty fetching to my watering mouth, as did the hardened protrusions straining against the tightened cotton stretched across his pectorals.
Despite the more-than-adequate air conditioning, I was hot as a motherfucker and just had to get out of my clothes. Rising from the sofa, I purposely stood before him, pretty much in the playing field demarcated by the stretch of his moderately-hairy thighs. I yanked my shirt up over my head and dropped it to the floor beside me. Then, hooking my thumbs under the sides of my shorts, I slid them down to my feet. Our eyes were locked the entire time, as I realized they had been throughout most of our encounter thus far. Mutual lust was there in both our eyes: his much more challenging; mine, quite frankly, just unable to tear away from his smoky blues. Everyfuckingthing about the real Shawny was one hundred percent improved over my many years of unfulfilled fantasies about him. I was beyond the realms of lust; I was nearing the final stage: ultimate possession.
For the briefest of moments, those long-lashed eyes flicked downward, widened slightly, and then refocused on my hazel orbs. Refraining from a self-satisfied smile at his display of curiosity, I took possession of my leaking joystick and slowly massaged it. Shawn was doing the same, jerking his cock along with me as we remained in a battle of the dueling eyes.
He surprised me by standing right in front of me and pulling off his white T. I reached out and grasped one elongated nipple and twisted it between thumb and index finger, watching the appreciative reaction from the stud. There was lots more I wanted to do, like taking Shawn in my arms and embracing him tightly as our mouths worked over each others necks, throats, chins and mouths. But, somehow, I managed to remain focused and not risk going too far and losing him at this crucial point. Resistance was hard as hell when he bent over in front of me, face mere inches from my straining cock, and unlaced his workboots, kicking them and his remaining clothing off and out of the way. We were standing stark naked, facing one another, stroking our blazing cocks.
I dropped to my knees in front of him, planting a series of tiny tongue kisses on his flat lower belly before attacking the musky-scented man sex rising from his hairy groin. Angling my head, I ran my thick lower lip along the side of his shaft, opening my yapper as I neared the blunt tip. My swollen tongue rolled up and teased the mass of nerves gathered at the base of his mushroomed head, then washed over his cock slit, which had begun oozing clear pre-cum once again. There was no stopping his flow this time around so I opened wide and swallowed him, inch after tasty inch, until he was engulfed in my face. My cheeks were hollowed as I manipulated his straight tool with every cocksucking technique I'd perfected throughout my thirty-six years. When I started bobbing back and forth -- swallowing, releasing, swallowing, releasing, gulping, sucking, licking, tonguing -- he placed one stray hand on my solid shoulder and kneaded my muscular mass with his long, calloused fingers. I took him all the way down to the hairy root and back out to drooling cock-head again and again, twisting my head as I approached him from a variety of different angles, and toyed with his dangling sac. Glancing up at him, I observed Shawn's head tilted back, eyes closed and tongue working his quivering lips -- fully enjoying my heartfelt blow job. His thighs were shaky, too, and I feared the cute stud might lose his balance if I kept on sucking his rod the way I was.
Managing to tear my mouth away form his cock, I pumped the saliva-soaked length, staring straight into his deep slit while I jerked my own curved hard on. Coaxing another wave of ball juice from those big nuts, I watched as it swelled from his cock lips and gathered into a long string hanging from his helmet. Diving in, I took the falling pre-cum drop onto my tongue and covered his dick head with my wet lips again -- hungry for more tastes of his man cream. Of all the guy's I'd ever coveted in my entire life, Shawny was the one I'd wanted most and now that I finally had him I intended to make it an affair to remember forever and ever. Beads of sweat soaked his hair as I speeded up the pleasure dial, jouncing up and down on his strained cock with renewed fervor. I was holding him around the backs of his hairy thighs now while my own cock was excitedly bobbing up and down with a slutty will of its own. All kinds of sloppy, slurping sounds were coming from my mouth and drool freely leaked from the corners. I was cock crazed and recklessly anxious to swallow his entire load!
Mythological speaking, it was as though I'd sucked the strength right out of Samson because all of a sudden Shawny's legs buckled and he fell back onto the sofa. Instinctively, he grabbed hold of his big man dick and continued jerking it off while he looked across at me through the widened span of his thighs. Watching Shawny jack off was a total fuckin' turn on for me and I just knew I was causing one hell of a pre-cum stain on my wall to wall carpeting. Like some kind of love-struck pup, I crawled across that carpet on my knees until I was right up there centered between the spread of his legs. With short, quick strokes I lapped at his swollen bulb while the groom-to-be beat his engorged slab of prime natural beef.
His little ass was moving all around on the edge of my sofa, leading me to fear that the stud was at risk of losing it fast. Wrapping my fist around his own, I halted him in mid-stroke. The heavily-breathing cock tease looked at my quizzically.
"Ever have anybody eat out your hole, man?" I asked in my deepest, most macho voice. "Not just lick it -- but really eat it out! A wiggly, wet tongue slathering around your ass lips, slipping through that tight clam and sliding around inside of you?"
"No! Never!" he replied huskily, then, "Awwwwwwwwwwww. sheeeeeeeeeee-it!" as he began raising his own legs. I took him by the ankles and lifted them until they were bent far back. Shawny was a quick learner; he reached around his wide-spread thighs and took hold of himself by the back of the knees, splaying his tight, cute butt out into the open for me. Shawn had some nice ass on him! Although he appeared kind of flat in the bootie while clothed, he actually had a sweet, pear-shaped butt. You know, the kind that is long and trim but flares out at the base rounding up into the cleft -- so curved and tight. Laying prone and spread-eagled like this, the pink flesh of his buttocks was taut, the trail of sweat-soaked hair parted and clinging to his skin to either side of that deep cleft -- -his wrinkled pucker invitingly exposed. I took one long swipe up his shit ditch and the stud automatically shivered. Planting my hands on his tightened glutes, I went to town licking the sweaty muskiness of his tasty trench, the tip of my tongue lingering every now and then on the wrinkled folds of his manhole.
Shawny was moaning and groaning and making all kinds of sex sounds, leading me to believe no one had ever sampled his candy box before. Proceeding to literally wash out his nicely deep ditch, I wallowed in the tart taste of his raunchy male sweat, fermenting all day in the seat of his pants in the unbearably hot warehouse. Zeroing in on his pursed pucker, I teased the hot hole with my tickling tongue and, when I felt him push against me, slipped through those tender petals. Wriggling my mouth muscle between his grasping ass lips, I slithered far past his tight sphincter and ate him from the inside out.
I must have entertained myself chowing down on virgin man hole for a good half an hour, listening to his ewwww's and arrrrgggghhhh's and feeling him thrashing around on the sofa while his ass got eaten out. Pre-cum was pouring from his lustily beating cock, leaking down the shaft, alongside his tightened ball bag and oozing through his balls-to-ass corridor, providing me with a tasty tongue lube. And I could have gone on tonguing his ass all night if he hadn't uttered those unexpected words.
Bucking up against my face, effectively impaling himself on my stabbing tongue, the overheated hunk roared, "FUCK ME, MAXEY! I WANT YOU TO FUCK MY ASS!!! WANT TO FEEL YOUR FAT DICK WAY UP THERE INSIDE ME!!!!!"
Damned if I was going to question his decision. Actually I'd kind of seen this thing played out in an entirely different way -- with me climbing up there in his lap and bouncing up and down on HIS cock -- but this was a whole hell of a lot better! Straight, uncharted, tight ass -- two days away from his wedding -- was I going to argue? Would you? I was up there pressing my fat cockhead to his wet ass lips before you could say "straight men DO!" (Well, maybe not so straight -- remember I 'd always thought he was suppressing. He sure wasn't suppressing anything anymore!) His asshole was so wet from the long tongue lashing I'd given him, and my cock was so slick from all my pre-cum that I slipped fairly easily into him. Shawn let out a wild howl and his eyes practically bugged out of his head! He grabbed handfuls of couch cushion and lurched against me, unintentionally burying half my cock up his awesomely tight hole. He roared and bellowed, and I thrust -- embedding my entire sex tool inside of him. He was wailing like a stuck pig but he wasn't making a move to stop me, so I proceeded to royally fuck him.
My cock plunged in and out of his straight chute, banging the living daylights out of him. If Shawn had expected a slow, comfortable screw he was sadly mistaken. I was taking him on the ride of his life, one he'd always remember -- would most surely remember up there at the altar with a sore asshole. He was food for the eyes as well as the cock, thrashing his head from side to side, gnashing his teeth together and intermittently shouting, "MOTHERFUCKER! FUCK THAT ASS!!! FUCK IT HARDER!!!! FFFFFFUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!"
I was coursing over his prostate and slamming well up into his guts and the guy was loving every moment of it! Rivulets of perspiration brought on by my heated exertions rained down on him, collecting with his own abundant sweat. Shawn's hair was a soaked mess and, collectively we were drenching my sofa with man sweat.
My full length relentlessly plowed his sweet cherry. Each time my balls smacked against his pretty butt, I released a heavy grunt of my own. It was hard to believe I actually had my dick buried all the way up inside Shawn, the young man I'd watched mature from the age of sixteen. They say good things come to the man who patiently waits, and sure enough I was sowing the seeds of my diligence.
His shit chute was so fucking tight and I was so fucking horny that I lost all control when he started hammering my chest with his fists and yanking on my man tits. I plunged deep into his guts and exploded inside him. Shawn's face took on an incredulous look when he realized I was splashing my cum load against the steamy walls of his colon. I blew off at least seven massive loads until my fat dick was swimming in a sea of my own jizz within his rectal cavity. Shawn was jack-hammering his angry cock, his fist flying up and down the slick, engorged shaft. I could feel his body tightening and knew he was real close. Yanking my dick from his hole, I dropped to my knees and stuffed my face with his hot, throbbing cock. Shawn dug his hands in my hair, as if I needed any help going down on him. The young stud was in a frenzy, his tight muscles visibly flexing and his entire body thrashing about as his heavy breathing grew more frantic. With a heart-felt squeal, he thrust his narrow hips up against me, fucking my mouth furiously. I thought the guy would surely rocket through my ceiling, so intense was the force of his orgasm. He exploded like an uncapped oil strike into my greedy gullet, shooting massive blasts of hot semen down my throat. I sucked and sucked, running my tongue all over his pulsating rod, draining his balls of every last drop of tasty Shawn-juice.
I was still licking and sucking on his joint long after the sexy stud had been totally spent; my hungry eyes appreciative of the after-sex aura that emanated from the hunk. A devil-may-care smile spread across his face as he watched me clean up his still-hard prick.
"You crazy cocksucker, you," he laughed.
Giving him a wink, I took my mouth off his cock and replied, "You're welcome, buddy. Anytime."
Shawny smiled widely again and then peeled his perspiration-soaked body off the sofa. Gathering up his clothes strewn about the room, Shawn dressed while I sat back and watched him cover up that long, lanky body -- committing all of him to memory. When he'd finished he came over to me and extended his hand, assisting me off the floor. Looking me deeply in the eyes for a moment, he took me into his arms and held me in a strong, manly embrace while he whispered hotly into my ear, "That was better than I ever fuckin' thought it would be."
I was a little surprised when he asked me to walk him out to his truck, but I complied. My hands were on the ledge of his open window as Shawn slipped his key into the ignition and started the engine. Leaning back in the seat with one hand on the wheel he groped his crotch and looked at me with that shit-eating grin etched across his handsome face. With mischievously twinkling eyes, he teased, "I've got something for you, big guy."
I smiled crookedly, wanting to reach out right there in the parking lot and handle his piece. "Come back inside."
He grinned even wider and then leaned across to fish something out of the glove compartment. Handing me the pale lavendar envelope, the sexy devil drawled, "Hope you're not doing anything Saturday night."
It was my invitation to his wedding!
"Wanted to personally deliver this one myself," he went on. "Don't worry. I forged your acceptance already."
This time I was the one beaming from ear to ear. The tease had gotten me once again.