Disclaimer: IF YOU ARE LEGALLY UNDERAGE TO VIEW OR READ SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIALS - STOP NOW. THIS SHORT STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT SEXUAL ACTS BETWEEN CONSENTING MALES. ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS WORK OF TOTAL FICTION ARE BETWEEN THE AGES OF 24 - 40 YO.
Story by Avitar avitar_two@hotmail.com Written by Russell S. russells@flash.net
(Preface, from the Avitar story "Man Virgin"):
"You must be new," I casually observed. "Yeah....just joined today....had to leave my last club because some damn faggot was trying to put the make on me!" Dax answered. Just then, Ken strolled past the area on his way to the showers. I would swear the expression on his face was jealousy.
TO FAGGOT, WITH LOVE
I'm James, a divorced father with two teenaged sons, dealing with more than a midlife crisis. After my wife caught me with the kid who mowed our lawn that summer three years ago, I have been coming to terms with a side of myself that I thought was buried so deep it would never surface. But here it is, alive and kicking. I am trying to enjoy life best I can, but things can get out of hand so easy. Like the trouble with Ken. You remember Ken, the 33-year-old virgin who was saving himself because of some unexplainable sense of piety. He was convinced that sex, all sex, outside of marriage was a sin. Unfortunately, he caught me sucking his cock in his sleep and it really messed him up. It messed me up too. I had done something to a guy that didn't want it. I had truly taken advantage of Ken and now I was having to deal with that as well. One thing helping me cope was Dax. But he didn't know it.
Dax showed up at the gym that afternoon, young, blond, an incredible body of hard muscled flesh, lightly dusted with just enough hair to tingle your fingertips. And between his legs, a bulge the size of a softball. He must have been proud, because he made no effort to conceal it. The compression shorts he wore only made it worse. Even the straight guys were doing double takes. I was almost drooling. When he asked me to spot for him, I almost melted. Couldn't he see what he was doing to me? I was sweating for no apparent reason, couldn't speak, and I wasn't sure I could pull the bar off him if he got in trouble or not. I felt weak just being this close to him. Our conversation had started out simple, like any two guys at the gym, only he didn't know I wanted to swallow him whole, dick first. Then he made that comment about "faggots". Why couldn't he have just kicked me in the head? I could only stand there, feeling totally dejected, and I hadn't even made a move on him yet. Even so, I continued to spot for him, which was exercise in itself for me. The weights he used were out of my class, and it was all I could do to help when he needed it. After about an hour or so, he declared himself pumped and in need of a shower. I was all too glad to leave with him to the locker room.
Dax was very outgoing, and seemed to make friends with everybody he came across. People were simply drawn to him because of his good looks, I among them. He stopped three times to talk with three different women on our way to the locker room. I was secretly envious of every one of them, but tried to not let it show. Once we cleared the door to the locker room, he was all mine. Because of the time of day, not too many guys were around, so we had the locker room and showers almost to ourselves. I said a silent prayer of joy when I realized he had been assigned a locker only five down from mine. He continued to jabber the whole time we were stripping down for our showers, just as he had during our workout. "You know, James," he started again, "every gym I have ever gone to always ends up full of faggots. I guess I just can't see them coming." I bit my lip to keep from laughing at his unintended pun, although I wasn't sure he even knew he had said it. Dax continued, "I know I look good, but goddamit, why can't they leave me alone? I'm no cocksucker." I finally got up the nerve to say something in defense of my breed. "Gays are attracted to you the same way you are to beautiful women. Its natural they would find you attractive and want to get to know you." "Natural?!" Dax screamed, "There is nothing natural about two faggots fucking each other!" "Alright, calm down," I said, not wanting to draw any more attention to him. I was having a hard time controlling my temper. Every time he said "faggot" I bristled. During the conversation, I hadn't realized how close to naked he had become. Looking his direction as I pulled off my socks, I suddenly discovered he was standing there in just his support briefs. The white, stretched, material looked almost painted on. In the back, his sculpted ass stood high and firm, his cock and balls softly nestled in a large wad up front. I couldn't take my eyes off him, afraid I'd miss the unveiling of what had to be the perfect cock. Just as he put his thumbs under the waistband, he turned away from me slightly. His package was out of my view, but his gorgeous butt wasn't. As I clumsily continued to undress myself I stared as he maneuvered the tight fabric over his glutes and down his legs. The perfect ass, I thought to myself. And no tan line. I was drooling again thinking of him laying naked in the sun. I knew I had to look away, or risk throwing a rod right in front of him. Forcing my eyes to the interior of my locker, I tried to think of anything else but Dax. His voice broke my concentration. "I better hit the shower, man. Got to get out of here. My girlfriend wants me back by 5:00. It was nice talking to you, James." As I looked back up, the most handsome piece of cockflesh to ever grace a man was staring back at me. Dax just stood there like it was nothing. Six inches soft, cut and thick, set off by the golden glow of his blond bush, this was a trophy penis. And believe me, I wanted it stuffed and mounted. He had to be able to see the desire in my face, hear my heart pounding in my chest, my tongue fighting to escape my mouth for a taste of him. But he just stood there. What the hell do you want, I thought. Then it hit me. I extended my hand, we shook, and he turned toward the shower stalls and walked out of view. I gathered my clothes and gym bag, dressed and left hurriedly. No shower today. I couldn't deal with being this close to him any longer. I had to get out and away to calm down and decide how I was going to handle this.
I didn't see Dax for a couple of weeks. I guess our schedules didn't coincide at the gym. That, at least, gave me some breathing room. On the third week I saw him come into the exercise area, but made no attempt to get his attention. I knew his aversion to gays, and had decided there was no point in getting excited over him, even if he was a God. I certainly didn't want to scare him off from this gym like he had been from the others. That way I could at least continue to look at him. During a short break, I stood looking out the window at the perfect weather we had been having. I had made plans to meet some friends from work for some skiing and camping this weekend at an area lake. I loved to get out of the city, even for a brief period. Lost in my thoughts of getting on the water, I felt a slap on my shoulder. I turned quickly and staring into my eyes was Dax, beautiful as ever. My dick tingled, but I resolved to stay in control this time. "Dax, I haven't seen you around lately," I said innocently, "What's going on?" "Nothing, man," he answered, "just working out early today. I haven't been able to come in as much as I like. My girlfriend, Tina, has me doing all kinds of shit for her. Sometimes she's a real bitch that way." "Then why do you stay with her?" I asked. Dax stood there, the look on his face saying more than he knew. "She's OK, just a little demanding sometimes. Besides, who else would I hook up with?" I'd like to show you, I thought to myself. I'd seen enough couples, gay and straight, to know when things weren't going well. Dax's expression when he talked about Tina gave away the fact he wasn't exactly happy in the relationship, but had no idea what to do about it. She probably had him by the balls, and he knew it. Sex was likely to be the only thing that kept them together. If he would only open up, I could show him the alternatives. Making a quick decision, I looked back at Dax, as he began loading plates onto a bar. "Dax, why don't you come up to the lake with me and some friends this weekend? You need to loosen up a little and take some time away from the city. What do you say?" "Oh, man, that sounds so good. I don't know what Tina wants to do, but I'll change her mind," he responded enthusiastically. I gave him directions to where the group would be staying. He seemed thrilled with the invitation. The weekend was looking even better.
My group had arrived early on Saturday to get things set up at the campground before it got too hot. Besides me, there were two couples, both straight, and a single woman from my office. We had been friends for a long time, and when my marriage broke up, we stayed close. They had no problem with the direction my life had taken, which was probably the reason I kept them as friends. We hit the water around 9:00 a.m. and, as usual, had a ball. The relaxing atmosphere and activity was exactly what I had needed. About one o'clock, I began to wonder whether Dax would show up. I had told the group about him so there would be no surprises. Back at the campground we were sitting around drinking beer and wine, snacking before an early dinner, when a truck pulled up with Dax and a young, thin, woman in it. That had to be Tina, I thought. I was glad to see Dax had decided to come. The pair got out of the truck and walked over to the group sitting around the tents and gear, and I quickly made introductions. Tina seemed pleasant, but I could tell by the way she and Dax interacted, she didn't want to be here. They never touched, never held hands, didn't hardly even look at each other. Dax took the beer he was offered, Tina refusing anything saying she was on a diet. The girl weighed little or nothing now, what could she possibly be trying to lose, I wondered. After about an hour, preparations were started for dinner. While the others worked getting it ready, I persuaded Dax to try the skis. I could tell Tina was upset he actually wanted to do something, but Dax was convinced, and he went into my tent to change into his trunks.
When he emerged, wearing only the tight, red, square-cut suit, everyone's attention was grabbed. That fantastic body, almost naked, outdoors, and he was mine for the next hour or so. The single female of our group, Carol, was standing next to me when Dax came out. Her mouth practically fell open. Leaning close, she whispered, "If you don't get him, I'm trying next." I only grinned at her and told Dax to follow me. As we walked away towards the boat, six pairs of eyes followed us, Tina's mad as hell. Dax and I climbed into the boat, I started it up and we made our way out into the lake. Dax had some experience with skis, so time wasn't wasted teaching him anything. He was having the time of his life, the water, the sunshine, all coming together to make for a wonderful afternoon. He finally began to tire after forty-five minutes, and returned to the boat. We sat, bobbing in the water, just talking. "What am I going to do about Tina?" he asked at one point. "What do you mean?" I said, returning the question. "Oh, James, she is so controlling. She wants to direct my whole life, and I can't stand it anymore. She acts more like my mother than my girlfriend. I don't know what to do." All of a sudden he seemed like a little boy not sure of himself. "Dax, I can't tell you what to do. You and Tina have to work things out for yourselves. Whether that means staying together or breaking up, I don't know. I do know this. She isn't doing you any favors." Dax sat, wondering.
We returned to the dock and made our way back to the campground. When we got there, Carol grabbed my arm. "James, we have to take our car and go back. Bob is having some kind of problem. We don't know what is it, but he is kind of panicky. It could be a heart attack." "Oh, Jesus," I said. "Go, right now. I'll watch the boat and the gear. Let me know something. I've got the phone with me." Five minutes later, Dax, Tina, and I were left to fend for ourselves. The safety of my friend was all I could think about. Tina took this opportunity to make her presence known. "Well, this is great. We drive up here, you leave me sitting with a bunch of strangers, and now even they are gone. Thanks for a wonderful day, Dax," she snarled. Dax stood there, embarrassed by the outburst. I looked toward Tina, barely able to contain my anger. Forcing myself not to yell, I turned to Dax. "Why don't you take Tina home. She's made it quite obvious she doesn't to be here, and I don't want to look at her again. Go on, I'll be alright." Dax looked broken. "I'm sorry, James." He went into the tent and pulled his jeans on over the trunks. As he walked toward the truck, Tina leading the way, he looked back. I waved as he got in on the driver's side, still looking in my direction. In a cloud of dust they pulled away and I could see Tina yelling at him.
About two hours later, sitting alone at the campsight, going over everything that had happened today, I heard in the distance a vehicle approaching. From where the tents were set up, you couldn't see the road for the trees which surrounded the camping area. Not until it pulled right up to my site did I recognize the truck and its occupant. Dax. This time he was alone. I remained in my lawn chair wondering what the hell he had come back for. Dax parked his truck, got out, and walked over to the area and sat down in a second chair, not having said a word. "What are you doing here?" I finally asked. Dax looked up at me. Up till now he had sat with his head down, not really looking at anything. "I took Tina home," he explained. "And?" I prodded. "We had the biggest fucking fight ever. We were yelling and screaming. She was telling me from now on we were going to do what she wanted. I told her she was crazy if she thought I would ever drop my life to live hers. I couldn't take it anymore. I told her to go to hell, that I wouldn't see her again." I sat listening, but not believing. I immediately felt guilty for suggesting to Dax that this girl was no good. That had been a snap judgement made on a first impression. "Dax, you didn't breakup because of what I said, did you?" I asked, thinking to myself I had ruined another young man's life. "No, you were right, James. She used me, she was selfish, she was controlling...She only kept me around because of my looks. She didn't want a man to love, she wanted a man to show off to her friends." Dax looked tired and neglected. I had never seen him this way before. His eyes were getting red and teary. I thought he was going to break down, but he never did. He just sat staring across the open space. "Dax," I questioned, "why did you come back here?" "I wanted to be with you," he said as if I should have known. Now my mind was racing. "What do you mean by that?" I had to ask. "I think you're my friend," he explained, "and I wanted to see you again. I had such a good time this afternoon I wanted to come back here and try again. I like you, James." As I listened to him talk I couldn't help but feel this was leading somewhere, but I couldn't be sure. I couldn't let Dax go on thinking we were just friends when I harbored stronger feelings for him. Feelings that might drive him away when he found out. I had to get this out in the open. He was hurting, but I couldn't lie to him. "Dax, look at me," I said sternly. He looked up into my eyes like a scolded child, half angry and half afraid. "Before this goes any further and you embarrass yourself, you have to know something. I'm gay." I said it; it was out in the open. I was relieved, but afraid he would run to his truck and leave. Instead he just sat there, unchanged. Then he began to smile. Within thirty seconds he was almost laughing. "You think that's funny? Ha, Ha," I said getting a little perturbed. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. You were being so serious," Dax laughed. "Dax, I'm not kidding. I'm gay," I repeated. "I know," he said. "I knew the first day at the gym."
I sat there, stunned into silence. Dax had known this whole time and said nothing. All the comments about faggots and being chased by cocksuckers, and he knew all the time. Now I was becoming defensive. "How the hell did you know?" I asked him. "Who the hell told you? And why didn't you say something sooner?" Dax was loosening up a little bit with this new turn of events. "Give me a beer and I'll tell you," he teased. I tossed him a can from the cooler and took one for myself. He popped it open and downed several large gulps. "Thanks," said Dax. "The first day at the gym I kind of suspected. You paid so much attention to me, just like the faggots had at the last gym." Oh, that word again! He continued. "I wasn't sure. You didn't try to touch me or ask to suck me, so I kind of let it go. But when I left, there was a note stuck on the truck. It said you were a homosexual and couldn't be trusted. I don't know who put it there." Dax didn't know, but I had a pretty good idea. Ken, that bastard, probably thought he could get back at me this way. For someone who claimed to love his fellow man, Ken sure was full of hate. Dax tipped up his beer and polished it off, not five minutes after he started. "Beer, please," he directed, waggling the empty container. "You just had one," I observed. "I know, Mother, now I want another," Dax grinned. I tossed him a second. Like the first, he swallowed half the can after cracking it open. "I hope you're not a mean drunk," I told him, watching as he continued to drain the can. "Oh, no. I'm a pussy-cat," Dax returned. The thoughts of Dax playful and open to suggestion filled my head, the fullness filtering into my dick.
We sat and talked for another hour, at least. Dax consumed two more beers, while I decided to stay sober enough to keep things in perspective. Suddenly the cell phone rang and I remembered Bob and the hospital. I answered quickly and listened to the news. The conversation was brief. "Is everything OK?" Dax asked after I had hung up. "Bob didn't have a heart attack, but they are keeping him in the hospital overnight for observation. They won't be coming back tonight," I said, passing on the good news. It dawned on me then that I would be out here alone all night. That didn't bother me, I had camped solo many times, but the idea of having Dax here started me thinking. I knew I probably shouldn't do it, but the chance had never been better. Now that I knew he was aware of my sexual interests I didn't have any reason not to try something with him. We settled back into the lawn chairs. I decided to try and draw him out, if I could. "Dax," I began the conversation, "why did you stay with Tina so long? If she was such a bitch, why didn't you leave a long time ago?" His answer was exactly what I was probing for. "She was a good fuck," he said casually. "Oh, really?" I continued. "She rode you pretty good, did she?" Dax grinned at my suggestiveness. I decided to go for broke. "Did she ever try to suck that monster cock of yours?" His attitude suddenly changed slightly, like he was angry over some rekindled thought. "That bitch. She'd fuck all night, but she wouldn't go down on me. She said only whores do that shit." "And cocksuckers," I added quickly. Dax looked up at me. His expression was mixed between surprise and lust. I could see his mind working through his beer-clouded eyes. Come on, Dax, I thought, make the next move. "It's been a long time. I knew a guy in college that sucked cock. The little faggot couldn't get enough. We'd line up outside his dorm room and let him have all he wanted." Dax's thoughts trailed off. He was thinking back to college and getting head from another guy. In the dim glow of the gas lantern, I could see the bulge in his jeans begin to expand. He looked up again. "You want it, don't you?" he said quietly, still considering his options. "You want to suck my cock." "I want to do more than that," I replied. "I'm no faggot, I don't do any shit," Dax pointed out. "You don't have to do anything in return," I assured him, "unless you want to." Dax stood up, a little wobbly at first, but gained his balance and walked over to the bushes. I couldn't tell what he was doing until I heard the splatter of urine on the dry ground. I watched his back as he relieved himself. After the flow stopped, he just stood there. He must have held his dick in his hand, probably deciding what to do next. As I stared at his ass and legs covered in the faded denim of his jeans, he began to turn around. As he came into profile, the biggest dick I had ever seen swung around, his hand holding the base, squeezing and pulling on it. "Get over here and suck my dick, faggot." Despite my reluctance to respond to that name, I couldn't help myself now that the chance was here to take him.
I walked over to him at the edge of the campsite. "Let's go into the tent in case anyone is out for a walk," I suggested. He turned toward the tent and began to move that way, leaving his swinging cock extended from his fly. After getting inside and pulling the flaps down, I looked back at Dax, who was laying on the air mattress, still clothed, but with his dick still exposed. "Can I take your clothes off of you?" I asked him, trying to go slow as not to make a suggestion that might scare him off. "Sure. I love to be naked," he confessed. I turned on a small battery lantern giving the tent a soft glow. Starting with his boots, I pulled them off and then his damp socks. He wiggled his freed toes in the air, grinning at me like a kid. "Undo your belt and jeans for me," I instructed, holding his legs by the ankles. When he had them unfastened, I began to pull on both legs. "Raise your ass up a little." He raised about two inches off the mattress, giving me enough slack to pull the material down his thick thighs and calves, then finally off, to be added to the growing pile. I was surprised when I realized he wasn't wearing any underwear. "Sit up and give me your shirt," I said, beginning to unfasten it. With each button, the finely sculpted chest and stomach moved into view. Pulling his arms out of the last article, he laid back onto the mattress. My mouth was getting wet, and my dick harder, as I looked over the perfect body laying before me. The golden hair and muscled frame was more than I had ever imagined having. His cock was incredible. Not only thick and long, but perfectly shaped. No bends or twists, no strange curves, just solid cockflesh, waiting for my mouth. I moved down between his legs, feeling the light hair across his thighs as I contemplated my assault. "Aren't you going to take off your clothes?" Dax asked as I surveyed his cock. Maybe he was more into this than I thought. Standing again, I quickly removed every stitch. "The gym is doing you good, James," Dax complemented. I was surprised at his comment, but said nothing. I kneeled again between his legs and moved in closer. Reaching out, I delicately took hold of his massive dick. It seemed to weigh several pounds in my hand, and felt like silk over steel. Dax had had enough preliminaries. "Suck on it, you faggot," he demanded. I ignored his words, but went to work.
I pulled the hard cylinder away from Dax's stomach and took a hardy lick across the head, concentrating along the ridge. His stomach drew up involuntarily as he sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my taste buds slide across his cock. "God, that feels good," he moaned. I licked again, and immediately a third time back across the other side. Dax was squirming under my attention and I was concerned he was going to blow too soon. I moved down to his hefty balls and started the same procedure. "Oh, yeah, James, suck my balls," Dax hissed. Sucking in one at a time, I alternated back and forth, wetting the skin and hair till it dripped down toward his ass. I couldn't believe how Dax was responding. For somebody that said he didn't like the attention of gays, he sure was enjoying himself with this one. Continuing to wiggle and twist, Dax began to flex his glutes, raising and lowering his midsection in a slow fuck motion. "Get back on my dick, faggot," Dax directed. That was it, I decided. I had him where I wanted him; I was going to make my wishes known, too. "Stop calling me that," I said, raising up from his groin, but continuing to hold his thick meat in my hand. "What?" he asked innocently. "You know what." I replied, "Don't call me faggot." Dax looked into my eyes. I hoped he could see the determination I was trying to show. He only smiled mischievously. "Faggot," he repeated. "Dax..." I started to say. Interrupting me, he said again, "Faggot." "Faggot, faggot, faggot!" I was beginning to feel my temper building. "Stop calling me that!" I yelled. "Why? It doesn't seem to be bothering you that much," Dax said as he thrust his rod into my fist. It was then I realized I had been unconsciously jacking his cock the whole time. My lust was winning the battle against my resolve. "You still want it," Dax observed. Silence. After a few seconds I gave him my answer. "Yes," I admitted quietly. "Then suck my cock," Dax said again, a little more forcefully. Leaning down, I started again, sucking and licking, slicking his beautiful organ with my mouth. Uninhibited now, I let myself worship him, sucking the fleshy tube as deep as I could, nursing like a starving calf. If I was going to have it, I was going to have it all. Dax quickly rose back to the peak as I continued my assault. Each downward movement caused the head to flare even larger, the shaft to stiffen even harder. Dax was whimpering like a puppy at this point and I knew he couldn't be far from cumming. Suddenly, curling upward off the mattress, he grabbed my head and pulled it down as far onto his cock as I could go, and then a little farther. I tried to remain calm as he shot his load into my throat, feeling the pulses of cum running through his cock, swallowing as much as I could under the circumstances. Pushing against the tent floor, I struggled to get off his dick to take a breath, but his strength was overpowering. At the last second he let go and I pulled off, gasping for air, cum dripping from my lips. "Oh, god, James, I'm sorry," Dax said realizing what he had done. "Did I hurt you? Oh, god, I'm so sorry." He continued to apologize again and again. When I regained my breath, I put my hand to his mouth to shut him up a minute. "You didn't hurt me, Dax," I assured him, "but you scared me a little." "It just felt so good, I couldn't help it," he explained. "I never had anyone give head that good," he added. "Not ever. Thank you." I hadn't had anyone thank me for sex in a long time. It felt good to know I had satisfied him. Or had I?
I moved up the air mattress next to Dax and laid down, my arm across his strong chest. He wasn't looking at me now, but didn't seem uncomfortable with me being this close to him after the blowjob. We lay together for about twenty minutes before Dax finally spoke again. "James," he began, then hesitated. "What is it?" I quizzed him. "You didn't cum yet, did you?" Dax asked. His tone sounded like a little boy, embarrassed about what he had done. "No, but that's OK," I said. "I don't expect you to do anything." "That isn't what I was going to say," he corrected me. "Can we, uh, have sex?" I thought a minute about that one. "Dax, we are having sex," I informed him. "No, I mean, can I...you know...fuck you?" he asked softly. This was quite a turn. I never thought he would want to go that far. I also had doubts about my ass being able to accommodate his size. One look into his eyes and back across his hard-packed body convinced me. "You sure as hell can try," I decided. His demeanor changed instantly back into the sex hound he showed himself as earlier. "Let me get ready first," I told him. I stood up and removed a tube of jelly from my pack. Liberally applying the cold jel to my hole and quickly using my fingers in an attempt to open even a little, I thought about the huge penis waiting to enter me. Dax was getting excited again as he watched me work my asshole. After a couple of minutes, I decided I could probably never get it wide enough to take him whole easily anyway, so I handed the tube to Dax and told him to lube up. He awkwardly squeezed out a little goo and smeared it over his cockhead and shaft, the contact with his hand making it inflate even fuller. I laid back and pulled my legs up. My mind was working to control my body as I felt myself tense up. This isn't going to happen if I don't stay calm, I thought to myself. It's going to be either the best, or worst, fuck of my life. "Is it OK?" Dax asked, moving over me. "Go ahead," I signaled. Taking aim, Dax made contact. I instantly felt the heat pushing at my opening, spreading me open, and sliding in a little. Dax pushed harder. My hole resisted. "Fucking tight," he murmured to himself, then pushed again more forcefully. I pushed back this time, hard, and the head of his cock took root up my ass. The only thing I could think of was giving birth in reverse, taking his life inside me. I must have wanted it more than I thought. His insistent thrusts drove his cock in deeper and deeper, but the discomfort never got too bad. He stopped about half way and waited, checking with me to proceed. Nodding my OK, I relaxed my neck and laid my head back onto the air mattress. Closing my eyes to concentrate on the feelings running through my body, I could feel Dax push his way home. "OOOHHHHH..." I moaned, unable to stifle the sounds any longer. I had never been so completely filled in my life. It was fantastic, my hot, full, stretched interior, begging to be fucked. "Oh, Dax," I moaned out, "do it." He moved slightly, then slowly begin to withdraw, the ridge of his cockhead scraping the walls of my ass and setting me on fire. But I wanted this fire to burn forever. About halfway out, Dax reversed course and pushed back in as deep as before. "Jesus Christ, your tight," he panted. He continued his rhythm, gaining momentum with each thrust. I couldn't believe how good he was. His cock was doing things I had only dreamed of, reaching into me, making me feel him, making me want him. "Fuck me, Dax," I said, as much to myself as to him. He was getting faster and more insistent. I opened my eyes at last and saw him looking right back into mine. Had he been watching my reactions to him the whole time, I wondered? My cock was hard and dripping now, rubbing along the groove between Dax's sculpted abs. That sensation alone was getting me close to orgasm. The stimulation was intense, but I wanted to add to it. I reached between us and stroked my cock, slick with the clear liquid Dax had fucked out of me. Within seconds, I was over the top, spewing juice from our necks to our stomachs, without question the best cum I had had in years. Dax plowed on, getting close himself. I reached up around his neck to hang on as he used every ounce of strength to get as deep as he could. All at once, he stopped for a fraction of a second, holding his breath, and I could tell it hit him full force. Again, he stroked in and out, blowing his seed within me. Suddenly his mouth was on me, searching for a kiss to seal us at both ends, and I obliged. This was completely unexpected. I had never thought he would kiss me like that, deep and long, or even at all. Of course, fifteen minutes ago, I wouldn't have guessed he was going to fuck me either. Our lips parted as he came down off his orgasm. We both took a minute to catch our breath, then he slowly pulled out, leaving me with a unique hollow feeling I had not experienced with other men. We didn't say anything else. I don't think there was anything to say. I reached for a towel to clean us up, and we lay together on the mattress, holding each other for several minutes, before sleep took over and our dreams filtered in. About three hours later, I awoke rather sore and chilly. I turned over and reached for him, but Dax wasn't there. Sitting up, I realized he wasn't in the tent. I stepped outside into the darkness, unable to see much, but I could see his truck wasn't there. "Shit," I said aloud, going back to the tent alone for the rest of the night. The next day, I woke, still alone. I waited around the campsite until the others finally showed up to get the gear and boat, then headed home for the rest of the day. I went over in my mind what Dax could be thinking, but I knew the only good way to find out was to ask him.
I saw Dax two days later at the gym. We spied each other from across the room, but after waving to me, he made no attempt to come over to where I was working. I knew I would probably have to make the next move. After fifteen minutes, I was headed back to the locker room, but made a detour toward Dax. He was on the leg press, manipulating over eight hundred pounds with little apparent effort. "Dax, I need to talk to you," I said after he completed his set. He looked at me. I could tell he was confused and a little defensive. "James, I don't think this is a good time," he told me. "I have to think about what I want to say." I nodded and left the workout area, confused myself about what was going on between us.
This same routine continued for almost two weeks. We acknowledged each other, I saw no anger from him, but no desire either. I couldn't believe he didn't feel anything about that night at the campground. I had finally had enough, and waited in the parking lot for him. He walked to his truck, finding me sitting on the tailgate. "Hi," I greeted him. "Hi, James," he returned. Before I could say anything he began the conversation. "I'm sorry for the way I've been lately, but I have a lot of questions about what I want, and about us, and about a whole lot of other stuff." "It's OK," I said. "I have some questions, too. Do you think we could have dinner somewhere and talk? I'm free tonight if you are." "Yeah," he said, smiling for the first time since that night, "I'd like that." We agreed that he would follow me to my place, then we would go together to the restaurant. The dinner was nothing fancy; we wanted to concentrate on what we needed to say to each other rather than on the food. I was finally able to steer the conversation into what we had done at the campground. "Dax, I'm sorry if I did something you didn't really want to do. You had too many beers and I used that to my advantage," I apologized. "No, I knew what I was doing. I wanted to do it," he replied. "If I hadn't you couldn't have made me stay. I really liked it. It's just I had never done any of that stuff before." He reached over and lightly touched my hand, then immediately drew away. I could tell he was thinking about it again. "Let's go home, Dax. I think we need a little more privacy."
Back at my place, we weren't in the door five seconds when I felt his hands on my shoulders as he followed me in. As I emptied my pockets onto the desk, he moved in close behind me. The hard bulge pressed into my butt left no doubt about where we were headed. I took his hand and led him to the bedroom. There were no preliminaries this time. We wanted to fuck and we wanted it right now. After greasing ourselves for the ride, Dax seemed to want to take control. Who was I to argue? Pulling my legs over his shoulders, he moved in and with determination plugged my ass with his exquisite cock. It felt just as good as the first time. Our two-week interval had kept me wanting him, and now I was getting it to my satisfaction. After a couple of minutes of him sawing in and out, in and out, in his steady, controlled rhythm, he reached down suddenly with his hands as he saw me move toward my own dick. Taking a wrist in each hand, he moved my arms over my head, pinning me down. I complied willingly, not knowing where this was going, but eager to see what he did next. As he began to fuck me harder, the feeling grew better and better. I first thought maybe I could cum without even touching my cock, but the exact combination of sensation didn't quite materialize. I was hard as hell and leaking precum like crazy, wetting my stomach where each drop fell. Dax kept moving so that the contact of my cock between our abs was ever changing. First he would press us together hard, squeezing my cock between the layers of flesh, then raise up again, taking the pressure off and leaving me wanting more. This went on and on, teasing me closer and closer, then taking it away. I was dying to cum and tried to pull out of his grasp, but he only held on tighter. There was no way I could over power him. At last, I could tell by his insistent thrusting he was very close. Just like the first time, there was the momentary pause, then the hard, full, deep penetration as he exploded inside me. As he finished his orgasm and slowed to an eventual stop, he looked into my eyes. Still holding my arms over my head and still imbedded up my ass, he leaned down and kissed me lightly. Almost whispering, he asked, "James, do you want to cum now?" I quickly answered in the same soft voice, "More than anything. Please let go and let me cum. I just need to reach my cock, Dax. Just let go." "No," he told me.
I began to wonder what kind of game this was turning into. He continued, "I want to make you cum. I want to make my faggot lover cum for me. Can you cum for me, faggot?" His words were sweet, even though I didn't like to hear them. It was his way of talking to me as a lover. OK, I thought, I can play along this time. "Make me cum, Dax, please," I begged him. "Do what ever you want, just make me cum." He smiled into my face and released his grip on my wrists. At the same time, he began a slow slide down my chest. As he did so, his semi-deflated dick began its torturous withdrawal from my ass, leaving me with that hollow feeling again. He continued down and I begin to sense what he was up to. I grabbed his shoulders and stopped him midway. "Dax," I said, "are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to, you know that." "I know," he said. "I want to try it." I gave in and he slid lower, eventually stopping directly over my wet, hard, cock. Touching me for the first time, he gingerly held my cock at the base between his thumb and two fingers. His eyes were wide and he looked like he was mesmerized. I watched as he slowly poked his tongue out and moved in. About two inches away he hesitated and I thought he was going to back off, but instead touched just the tip to the head of my dick. Holding it there, he began a little flicking motion across the head and slit, running his tongue through the pre-cum. That slight stimulation was good, but it wasn't going to get me off. "Suck on it, Dax," I encouraged him, "Suck my faggot cock." I caught myself just as I said it. I couldn't believe I had just said that word. But it did seem to spur him on. He parted his lips and moved down, taking the head into his mouth. I thought everything was fine, then he bit me. "Dax!" I hollered, "watch your teeth. Go slow." He had pulled off when he heard me shout. He tried again, this time a little better, but still very rough. "Stroke the shaft as you suck me," I instructed. He added an awkward pulling motion as he continued his oral attempt. "Use your tongue more," I said. This was quickly turning into Blowjob 101. He worked up and down, pulling, licking, sucking a little, scraping the ridge with his teeth again and again. It wasn't completely bad, but it was going to be difficult to cum this way. "Dax," I said, "just lick the head and jack me a little harder. Like this." I placed my hand over his and began to stroke myself using him. "Now lick." This combination was much better than before and I began to move in the right direction again. After compensating for the first part I wanted to cum for him just to keep him from being humiliated. And he was getting better. He improvised a little by kissing and sucking just the head every few seconds between hard, wet, licks. I reached the breaking point and let him know. "Dax, this is it. A little more, that's it, that's it. Oh, fuck!" The force of my load caught him by surprise and he moved his head away as I shot my wad in all directions, some still managing to find Dax's cheek. He continued stroking me as shot after shot flew out the end of my dick. Spent, I laid back and caught my breath. Dax stayed low, watching my cock get soft. I reached out and pulled him up the bed to lay beside me. As I drifted toward sleep, I looked at him one more time. He had his eyes open, staring across my chest towards the wall. "Dax, can you promise me one thing? Please don't leave tonight without telling me, OK? You can stay all night if you want," I told him. "I promise," he swore. I fell asleep again, holding Dax, hoping he would still be here in the morning.
In the middle of the night I was awakened by Dax's restlessness. "Dax, what wrong?" I finally asked as he turned over for the hundredth time. "I can't sleep. I can't get these thoughts out of my head," he said, sounding disturbed. I reached over and took his shoulder, pulling him onto his back next to me. I propped myself up on the pillow and ran my hand over his chest and neck. He drew a little closer. "Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking about," I said, trying to draw him out. He laid his head on my chest and began to explain. "I'm so messed up with this. I want to tell you how good you make me feel, but at the same time, I can't stop thinking this isn't right for me. I loved fucking Tina all night long, and I love being with you. But I can't do both. It's tearing me up." After a minute he continued. "James, how did you know? How did you know for sure you were a faggot? I'm so confused I don't know anything anymore. I don't know what I want." I decided to give up trying to correct him on the f-word. I gently stroked his face with the back of my hand. "I think you may be putting too much thought into this. Sex isn't a thing you measure out and decide how best to use it. It's not a one-time choice to be made with no chance to change your mind. I was married for over fifteen years. Now look. I'm a middle aged gay man. But I am happy. You make me happy, Dax." He turned his head and looked up at me. I could still see the confusion in his face. He would eventually have to figure this out for himself, and he knew it. As we continued to lay there, I felt his hands moving slowly towards my groin until his right hand was over my cock, which was rising to the occasion once again. He moved down the bed, and this time without asking, started to lick and nurse my hardening dick. His ministrations were more controlled this time, more sure of what to do. As he stroked the shaft and wet the head with his lips and tongue, he began to talk, at first almost to himself. "You want me to suck your cock, don't you. Take your faggot cock and suck it good. Tell me to suck it. Tell me." "Suck my cock," I urged. "No, I can't," he protested, still licking around the head. "Suck it, Dax," I ordered, realizing his game this time. Again he replied, "No, I don't suck cock. I'm no faggot." "You'll suck this faggot's cock; you want it, now suck it," I ordered again. He was getting into it a little more this time. I was fully hard under his hands and mouth as he worked on my meat, still insisting between licks he was no cocksucker. He was slightly better this time, not once actually biting me. He needed more practice, but we could work on that. "That's it. You wanted a faggot cock to suck, didn't you? Didn't you?!" I asked more sternly. From his moans and slurps, I could tell he was getting off on being forced, even though there was no actual force being applied. Maybe, I thought, this was his way of coping with his feelings towards men or, at least, me. Remarkably, I moved towards orgasm faster this time and was ready to blow after just a few minutes. I let go and felt the ripples move out across my body as Dax sucked me to orgasm, this time not backing off. Some of my load got into his mouth, but I didn't see him spit it out. His hand and chin was dripping with cum, but he made no attempt to clean it off as he continued the oral treatment. After it was over, he moved back up towards me on the bed, wiping the remnants of our love onto the sheets. We held each other again, moving back into sleep. His final words before sleep overtook us this time echoed in my ears and into my dreams. "Good night, faggot. I love you."
In the morning Dax was still there, asleep. At least we didn't have to rush now to go to work. We might even spend the whole weekend together, I thought to myself. I got up and went into the kitchen to start some coffee. Funny, I thought, I don't even know if Dax drinks coffee. As the pot started to fill, I headed back towards the bedroom to see if Dax was still asleep. As I entered the bedroom, the most angelic sight I'd ever seen lay there before me. Dax, apparently still sleeping, had tossed back the covers and lay there naked and about half erect. His muscle tone and tan and blond hair was like something out of a dream. He looked absolutely perfect. The perfect man in my bed. I had to get a picture of this to show him later. Going to the closet, I found my camera and moved back around to the end of the bed. As I stood there trying to frame the shot, his eyes opened and Dax suddenly shot up. "What the fuck are you doing?!" he screamed. "God damn it, you fucking faggot! I should have known what you wanted. You're just like all of them, fuck around with me, then want to show me off to all your faggot-ass friends! No way, James, forget it!" He was up and pulling on his clothes as fast as he could. "Dax, it isn't like that," I tried to tell him. "This is only for you and me. I wanted to show you how beautiful you are." "Fuck you," he said, "I'm leaving. You're just like the rest of them. God damn faggots!" And he was gone.
I sat all day cursing myself for fucking it all up. Dax was gone, and probably never coming back. The whole weekend was hell, as I sat thinking about what could have been and then kicking myself over and over. Damn it, James, I thought, you just can't seem to know when to stop. Every relationship you have ever been in is shot to hell. You couldn't be married, you couldn't handle Ken, and you drove Dax away. Fucking idiot. Monday morning and back to work didn't come soon enough to take my mind off my fucked up life.
The next time I saw Dax was at the gym a week later. He didn't exactly avoid me, but he also made no attempt to acknowledge me. I did catch him looking my way at least twice out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn't find the courage to approach him. I was still feeling sorry for myself, and not trying to patch things back together was my punishment for being such a fuck-up. I eventually lost sight of Dax, who, I'm sure, had left earlier without my noticing. I finished my routine, showered, dressed, and headed to the car to make the lonely trip home and another empty evening. As I approached my car and raised my head up, there he stood, leaning against the driver's door. As beautiful as ever, Dax waited as I walked to the car. My spirits rose slightly as I ran an image through my head of Dax returning to my apartment for another night of lovemaking. At first he looked away like he was trying to ignore me some more. I opened the door and threw in my bag. Turning to him, I broke the uncomfortable silence. "Dax, look, I'm really sorry about what happened. I didn't know it was such a big deal. I'm sorry," I told him. Dax looked me in the eye, then turned away again. When he finally spoke it was low and deliberate, like he wanted to be sure and say the exact words he had practiced on. "James," he began, "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you. When I saw you with the camera all I could think about was seeing my picture plastered all over every faggot hangout in town. I just couldn't let you drag me out like that." "Dax," I repeated, "I'm sorry." "It's not your fault. I just can't handle it right now," he said. "James," he added, "I saw Tina last night. We're back together." Fuck, I thought, he's gone for good. "I won't pretend I understand," I said. "I never could figure out why you were with her in the first place. There has to be someone better out there somewhere." We lapsed back into silence. The longer we stood there the more awkward it became. "Dax, I have to get home," I said. "Maybe I'll see you around the gym." I seated myself behind the wheel and started to close the door. "James," Dax interrupted, holding the door open, "Thanks. This is for you. Don't open it until you get home." He pulled a large manila envelope out of his coat and tossed it into the backseat. Leaning down, he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. Catching himself in a public parking lot again, he quickly stood up and looked around to see if anyone saw us. I didn't care if the whole world was watching. I had touched something inside him, I was sure. My spirits lifted a little bit more with the hope that maybe some day he would knock on my door again and invite himself in.
I couldn't wait to get home and see what he had tossed into the car. I quickly walked up the stairs and had my key ready at the door. Inside, I threw my bag across the room towards the bedroom and reached for the letter opener laying on the desk. Pulling the top open and looking inside, my heart skipped. I reached in and slid out my prize, an 8x10 glossy of Dax, naked and golden, his perfect face and body presented like a present to me to savor on those nights alone. His dick wasn't hard, but the size made up for it. I wondered then who the lucky fucker was that had taken the photo. After drooling over it for several minutes, I noticed near the bottom left corner, almost unseen in the dark margin, an inscription. "To Faggot, With Love". I had touched him, I smiled to myself. And I'd wait as long as it took to touch him again.
THE END
Footnote: This story was made possible by a collaborative effort between two net writers, Avitar and Russell S. We appreciate your comments and suggestions for possible future stories, and you may contact either of us at the following:
Avitar (story line and characters) avitar_two@hotmail.com Russell S. (writing and development) russells@flash.net
Look for other stories by these authors at the Nifty Archive, www.nifty.org.