Always happy to receive comments or chat: banana-dino@hotmail.co.uk
Dave had finished early; I heard the clatter of his boots on the wooden stairs and looked across at the clock next to my bed; it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. There was a creak on the landing before he opened the door.
"All right, mate? Nice early finish for you," I said.
Dave carefully put his canvas roll of chef's knives on the dressing table. "Yeah, we only had four tables in. Fucking dead."
Dave was 22, my height, with a round, friendly face. He had a slight limp - the result of an accident in a truck which had resulted in his leaving the army two years ago. I liked his South London accent and cropped, blond hair, and the blond hairs on his muscular arms. He ripped open the jacket of his chef's whites with a popping sound. "Got most of the parfaits finished off for Saturday, though, but Derek's still being an arsehole about it." He balled up the jacket and threw it into the corner of his side of our room, where it joined the pile of dirty washing accumulated at the foot of his single bed. "What you watching?" He nodded towards the TV at the end of my bed.
"Nothing really." I shrugged. I was already in bed with a book, and the TV had only been on as a casual distraction. Dave peeled off his T-shirt and raised it to his face.
"Fucking hell; this is rank, mate. I been sweating like a rapist tonight." He raised an enquiring eyebrow. I raised one hand and he threw it over to me.
Although Dave didn't get off on sweat, he got off on the fact that I did. It gave him a genuine erotic charge to know that I would be wanking while I breathed in the scent of his perspiration; I've still got a text he sent me with a blurry shot of the crotch of his chef's trousers, bulging grotesquely to one side, and the message STIFF AND SWEATY FOR UR MOUTH. He must have taken the picture covertly while he was working in the kitchen, waiting for service to end so that he could come back to the staff quarters and get sorted out. He called it 'getting sorted out'.
"You going to sort me out, then?" he had asked in a challenging tone the first night, after we had discussed wanking and blow-jobs. "Fucking hell, you've got me rock-hard," he had said, pulling back the duvet to show me his hard-on. He grabbed his cock through his briefs and waggled it at me accusingly.
"What you complaining about?" I asked. "So I've given you a hard-on; life's a bitch." My own cock was pulsing and my heart was hammering so hard that I could barely speak.
Dave had shrugged and smiled. "Well, you got me hard: you going to sort me out, then?" His fingers moved to the end of his cock and started delicately rotating around his helmet while he looked at me, and there had been a moment's pause before I slid out of my bed and walked across the room to his.
Dave's grey T-shirt was warm and felt slightly moist in my hand. I sniffed gingerly. It smelt of kitchen; food and fat. I shifted it and sniffed again. Now I could smell Dave; the slightly soapy, lanolin smell of his spine and shoulders. I shook out the T-shirt; the armpits were dark grey and damp. I sniffed and breathed in the smell of his sweat: animal and spicy. "Fucking nice," I muttered. Dave grinned and sat down on his bed to unlace his boots. "You fucking pervert." He shook his head reprovingly. He kicked his boots under the bed and stood up. I could see the line of his hard cock through the cotton of his chef's trousers. He stretched and stood with his hands clasped behind his head.
"Tell you what; if you like sweat, you should have a whiff of this," he said invitingly, sniffing gingerly at his armpit. "Fucking rank, mate." Dave dropped one hand to pinch and rub at his swollen cock through his trousers. I pushed back the duvet and walked across until I was so close that I could smell Dave's body. My cock was fully hard, and Dave flicked it playfully with his fingers a couple of times. "You dirty fuck," he murmured softly.
I bent my head. The light brown hair in his armpit was whorled and darkened with sweat. It smelt of yeast and bacon, cumin and a sour scent of male. I sniffed and licked at his sticky armpit, holding his warm, lean body by the hips. "That's it, you fucking dirty cunt," he hissed, "you fucking lick it, you sick bastard." He shifted slightly and I felt his fingers on the back of my head, forcing my head into his armpit. I moaned.
"You dirty fucking scrote," Dave breathed. "You fucking love it, don't you?" I nodded vigorously. "What else do you want, then?"
"I want to lick your bollocks," I murmured into his armpit. I licked my lips and tasted the salt from his sweat smeared across my mouth and chin.
"Go on, then," he lowered his arms, blocking access to his pit, and gripped my shoulders; gently but insistently pushing me to my knees in front of him. His cock was jutting out through the thin checked cotton at his crotch. I raised a hand and traced my fingers along its length, and then down again to its base and between his legs. I could feel Dave's balls through the moist, warm cotton between his legs, and he shifted his position slightly, feet a little farther apart. I rubbed them with two fingers.
"Go on, you cunt," he said, "I want you licking them." I unzipped Dave's fly and pried out his cock. It was straining at the fly of a pair of shabby black trunks, and I could smell the sour, rubbery smell of his prick as I bent to kiss its moist tip. Dave's cock was pale and slender, with a long, wrinkled foreskin; I slid it back to reveal a bright pink helmet glossy and slick with pre-cum. As I slid it forward again the viscous liquid pooled and beaded at the tip of his foreskin for me to lick. Dave's firm hands forced my mouth down onto his cock until my nose was practically buried in the tight curls of dark blond pubes at its base, then released me to slide my lips back up its length. I frantically tugged his trousers and trunks down to his ankles and ran one hand up his hard calf muscles to grip his arse, his cock sliding back into my mouth as I did so. Dave pumped my head back and forth along his cock a few times before twining his fingers into my hair and pulling me up to my feet. He pulled my head back and began to worry at my Adam's apple with his teeth and lips. "You're a sexy bastard, do you know that?" he muttered, moving his mouth up to nip at my earlobe. "Fucking sexy bastard." He bit my chin gently. "Get down and lick my nuts." He shook my head by the hair and I obediently sank to my knees again.
He wasn't always the dominant one, Dave and I switched roles all the time: two days previously I had delivered a slow, sweaty afternoon fuck, him gripping the headboard, ankles resting on my shoulders. It was almost silent except that I made him beg for every inch of my cock. The occasional creak of bedsprings was punctuated by him pleading for me to get deeper inside him in a hoarse whisper ("Please... just another inch. Slip another inch of cock inside my arse. Please, sir, give me more of your cock. Ah... thank you. Thank you, sir. Please fuck me harder, fuck it deep, right up inside me; I'm begging you... oh, Jesus... give me more cock up my arse.") I would slip my broad cock slightly further inside his tight, slippery ring and make him whimper with pain as I casually twisted his nipple, pinched between my fingernails.
As I moved my mouth towards Dave's balls he hitched his stiff cock to one side, giving me access to his nuts. He had huge, pendulous bollocks that smelt of sweat, raw leather and yeast. I loved bathing them with long, luxurious strokes of my tongue, or sucking them into my mouth and hearing him hiss with pleasure.
I lapped frantically at his balls, sliding one finger up behind them towards his arse-crack along the hard, hairy bulge of his perineum. His fingers plucked at my hair, nails scratching up and down with a soft rasping noise at the stubble where my neck was shaved. While I licked, my finger tickled and worried between his legs, sliding closer along the warm cleft towards his arse. Dave shifted again, legs further apart, so that I had to bend lower to kiss and suck at his hairy nuts. My finger crept further, into a crack hot and moist with perspiration, and Dave breathed out sharply.
I explored upwards, sliding my finger up between his legs towards his ring, but was prevented by Dave tugging at my hair and pulling me upwards. "Get on the bed," he ordered. I obeyed with alacrity, my cock rearing upwards as I lay on my back. Dave lowered himself over me so that we were in a fair approximation of a 69, him squatting over my face, facing my cock. He moved lower; I could see his balls, still glistening with my saliva, inches from my face. "Lick them," he said.
I arched my back and raised my head, lapping at his swinging nuts with the tip of my tongue. Dave grunted and moved slightly forward. I felt his fingers on my chest and a moment later a sting of pain as he flicked my right nipple hard. I flinched, and Dave said softly, "Oh, you like that, then?" My left nipple got the next one, then a couple more to the right; my nipples immediately became hard and erect, which made it hurt even more as he continued. I carried on licking, moving my strokes up towards Dave's perineum, tickling the coiled hairs on his taint and bollocks with my tongue. He carried on flicking, occasionally tempering his assault on my stiff nipples by pinching them gently, or lightly running his fingers over their sensitive tips.
I could smell Dave's arse now; not shit, but a sour, vegetal smell. Dark blond, wispy hair grew all over his arse, and as he shifted position I could see hairs plastered to the sweaty lining towards his ringpiece. Suddenly he moved forward onto his knees, sitting astride my chest with his arse in my face. I felt his hand on my cock, then fumbling with my balls; he gripped my ball-sack tight in one hand.
"Fucking get your tongue up there," Dave suddenly announced in a confident voice. "I want you rimming my arse."
"No... please..." I whimpered. Dave chuckled and hefted my bollocks in his hand, then squeezed them cruelly. My back arched and I gasped from the discomfort. He tugged at my scrotum insistently. "Rim my sweaty arse, or I'll tear your fucking balls off." Dave said menacingly.
I licked gingerly at his perineum and he lowered his arse towards my mouth. My tongue bathed his arse with broad strokes, tasting his bitter, salty arse-sweat. I raised my arms and gently pulled his arse-cheeks apart so that I could get right into his crack, running my tongue over his wrinkled ring-piece. Dave moaned and pulled hard at my balls. "You cunt... ah! Keep fucking doing that until I tell you to stop..."
I obliged, running my tongue over his ring again and again, worrying at it and forcing into it with my tip, probing with my tongue into the hot, smooth crack where his flesh yielded. His grip on my balls never slackened, and I felt a rhythmic pelvic movement that told me he was wanking himself off while I rimmed him. "Fucking that's it," he muttered, "fucking get your tongue right up there..." He ground his arse into my face, forcing his wet arse down onto my stiff tongue so that I was practically tongue-fucking him. I felt his ring expand, and drove my tongue in between the warm silky flesh of his arse-lips. Suddenly he quivered and I heard a familiar grunt of release as he squirted warm spunk over my belly. His grip loosened on my nuts, and I felt him relax.
Dave fed me his spunk off his fingers, scooping it off my belly and loins before it cooled, and dripping creamy gobs of his cum into my eager mouth. "That's right, you fucking dirty little slut; swallow every drop of it," he muttered into my ear while I licked the stickiness off his palm. He sat up on the bed and casually ran a finger over my cock, stroking my helmet before bringing his finger to his lips and sucking off my pre-cum. "Tell you what, mate; you stand up and I'll sort you out." He shrugged. "Only fair, isn't it?"
Always happy to receive comments or chat: banana-dino@hotmail.co.uk